17 hours ago
Friday, February 13, 2009
Bed of Angels- Poetry & Prose
An 'Angel' delivery arrived this afternoon via the post and my hubby who lives to check the mail box, brought it up to me and I could tell what it was by the crinkling noise it made as he walked up the stairs, and then I ripped it open, boy did she tape that good! Evidently my friend Gen says that must be a 'male' thing (puns, sorry)...
After reading today's My Mommy Said post about hers arriving yesterday, and my excitement for her was intense, and then I got one too...better than winning the lotto, well I do not buy tickets so of course I will not ever win that one, but a friendship lotto is the best any whooooo!
Debra @ Well Behaved Women Rarely Make History, pays close attention to detail, because Mommy's booty was elaborate and pretty, but I am not into pink...mine had oranges and blues...how cool is it to have someone really listen to what we say on this blogsphere...
I love it Debra, I absolutely love it! Here is where I wore it tonight while I was on top of my game with my poetry at the South Jersey Open Mic...inspired by my blogsphere pals (every darn one of you YES) I wrote this on the way there, and it got rave reviews, so here is to you big caring heart 'Angels' out there... (PS I wear a size 8" bracelet and a long necklace...the big bone type since I was born)
Bed of Angels
Last night I dreamt about you, and
a smoke filled room of strangers
We all shared a hot pot full of laughter
Old things they seemed were turning new
Blood is thicker than waters running deep
Friendships become the bridges we cross
Long dusty roads one has traveled
thin painted and fast memory lanes
Sons and mounds of sorrow
sent us packing up Mid-west paths
Once I drove through Ohio;
if I had known I was welcome
would have stopped for the night...
Gazed at September mountains, rivers and grey skies
Washington rains dried my eyes
Now we scatter love on North winds
Wipe feet on snowy winter grass
Thoughts will always be faced to the South
The day is coming...trials and stray bullets
Will knock us off this ledge
Where a bed of Angels await
spiraling down through orange and pink mist
sheets of soft memories we rest
Until then remember the mommies
All the teachers and preachers
Sweet faces of their children, and
the roads where angels still tread
Last night I dreamt about you
Placing a heart about my head
We then walked along rivers of reflection
Hand in hand...no words ever needed to be said...
E Stelling, 2/13/09