Poem: Floating Free

Floating Free

Floating down the river,

Far from city sounds,

Crickets, frogs and owls,

The only noise around,

Dip your oar, then once again,

Move with practiced ease,

Slide along with gliding strokes,

Coast beneath the bending trees,

Linger in a shadowed cove,

See the moon rise high,

Breathe in stars and crisp night air,

See trout and bass swim by,

Peaceful place, peaceful thoughts,

Far from stress and strife,

Forget tonight that woes exist,

That worries come with life,

Floating down the river,

Far from city sounds,

Hope can rise so far from shore,

So far from your front door,

Hold that forevermore.

Fountain Pen Wisdom

Fountain Pen Wisdom

If we both talk at once

Then what do we hear?

I know we aren’t friends,

But will you still share your crayons?

If we’re in the same canoe with one oar,

Is it better to take turns rowing or let one person do all the work?

Fable: A Tale of Two Cats

 A Tale of Two Cats

Once upon a time there was a house where two people lived, but they are inconsequential to this story.  This story is about two cats, Hubert and Henry, who resided there and established the tone and tenor of the abode.  Hubert and Henry didn’t want to live together, had not chosen to share the space and found no common ground to forge a friendship.  Sharing anything was unthinkable.  Hubert slept on the green couch in the living room.  Henry curled up on the blue leather couch in the den.  Hubert ate in the morning, Henry at night.  Hubert liked to sit with the lady of the house and Henry kept to himself.  If the two cats passed in the hallway it generally included some hissing and growling before they separated.  There was no room for compromise, concession or cooperation.  

When a mouse found his way in through a small opening in the crawl space, Henry dispatched with it in short order.  Hubert feigned indifference and boredom.  As the days wore on, the mice invasion increased and Henry was unable to catch them all.  Unwilling to ask for help, the problem grew.  Hubert looked the other way.  

But then the problem started to affect them both.  The mice began to eat the cats’ food right out of their bowls.  Their very sustenance was being taken out from under their noses by the pesky intruders.  But the cats refused to join forces.  The growling and hissing increased, the hunger set in, but still no concession.  

Toward the end, the cats had grown quite thin and spent most of their days languishing on their separate couches dreaming in fits about tuna and chicken flavored cat food. Would they ever join together to work for the common good?

Extend a paw in friendship today 

and tomorrow your burdens will lighten.

Just an Old Vase

I have a vase that belonged to my mother.  There is nothing particularly special about the vase, except that it belonged to her.  It's kind of a nondescript green color with 1950's styling. 

After my mother’s death in 1997, my siblings and I sorted through her belongings and each took a few small mementos.  I ended up with the vase.  I remember mom cutting flowers from her garden and filling the vase with tulips or roses or lilies of the valley.  She loved flowers and spent a lot of time out in the garden.  It offered her a brief respite from raising five children and running a busy household.  

Now I have the vase and use it quite often, filling it with hydrangeas or fresh cut flowers from the market.  I think of her every time I pull it off the shelf like I did yesterday.  

Yesterday was my birthday.  My mother gave birth to me in 1953.  I received flowers as a gift so it gave me the perfect opportunity to use the vase. 

It’s the little things in life, isn’t it?  The things that connect the past to the present, that keep us rooted to the ground - the things that keep memories alive and allow us to create new memories using old objects – objects like an old vase that will be cherished always. 

Harmonic Moment

I went to Staples Office Supply Store today to do some copying.  As I walked across the parking lot, I heard the distinct sound of a harmonica.  Turning,  I saw a little girl happily playing a tune while walking beside her mother.  It made me smile.

Once inside, I went to the copy center and discussed my order with an employee.  Suddenly, the simple harmonic strains filled the open space of the store.  People turned and smiled as they walked about looking for toner, paper, envelopes, etc.  The employee at the copy center looked at me and said, "It's unusual to hear music in here. It's an unexpected sound."

I thought to myself that an 'unexpected sound' was probably a really good thing.  I hope the little girl keeps playing.  We need more unexpected music in the world.

Poem: Light Spirit

  Light Spirit

Spinnin' ‘round,

Holdin' tight,

Peals of laughter,

Sheer delight,

Happy vibes
In the air,

Spirits light,
No worldly cares,

Childhood frozen

For a day,

Treasured time,

Time for play,

Simple fun,

Simply the best,

So much time

For all the rest,

Growing up can wait a day,

Or even longer some might say,

 

Enjoying this

Is just

Enough for now.

Photo and Poetry by Rita Bourland © 2011

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Poem: What Snakes Really Do

 

What Snakes Really Do

When I visit the zoo

 and look through the glass,

I imagine the snakes

 alert in the grass,

they silently coil

and wait on their prey;

they sit without moving

 most of the day,

but just when you think

 they’ve fallen asleep,

they’ll spring from their perch

and make a quick leap,

they’ll snatch up their prey,

and swallow it whole,

then slither away

 to hide in their hole,

I like to imagine

 what snakes really do;

It’s not all that scary

‘cause they’re in the zoo.

True Story: Case Closed

 Case Closed

Living in a big city presents a unique set of problems. There are ongoing issues of traffic, noise, road construction, detours, and people behaving badly.  It’s hard to feel empowered to impact any of these.
 

When I started hearing a constant noise every time I stepped foot in our backyard, I didn’t immediately feel like I could do anything about it.  I did the initial cursory walk through the neighborhood to see if I could find the source, but to no avail.  It was a high-pitched noise, sort of like a low decibel tornado warning.  It started really getting under my skin and inside my head.  My husband could hear it too.
 

I did a drive-around about a week ago, but couldn’t find the source.  I told myself that even if I found the source, it would be difficult to negotiate a fix to the problem.  
 

Tonight, when my husband got home from work, he said we should get on our bikes and try to pinpoint the offensive noise.  We rode through the neighborhood with our ears cocked.  We wound past houses and condos, eventually weaving between office buildings.  We ventured onto a busier street, and still following our ears, pulled between two restaurants.  Feeling a rush of adrenaline, we realized the noise had reached its loudest peak and we had found the culprit.  

The squeal was emanating from what looked to be the hood vent fan on top of the Poong Mei Korean/Asian Bistro, almost a mile from our house.  I asked my husband to watch the bikes and I went inside.  A lovely Korean woman approached the counter.  It was 4:00 in the afternoon and she and a gentleman (probably around 40 years old) were the only people in the restaurant.  To kill time while I considered my options, I asked about their carry-out menu and then she told me about the special discount nights the owner planned each week.  When she made the comment about the owner, she pointed to the gentleman sitting at the back table.  I made a quick decision and asked if I could speak to him.  I explained the noise problem and asked him if he would accompany me outside so he could hear the offending noise for himself.  I tried to be incredibly polite.  He looked at me a bit bemused (can you blame him) and followed me outside.  
 

My husband was waiting with the bikes, so we all walked over to the side of the building and I pointed out the problem and explained that we could hear it very far away.
 

Now, here comes the best part.  He was incredibly kind and apologetic.  He got on his cell phone and called his maintenance person and told me they would look into it tomorrow.  He said that it may have saved him from having a more serious problem down the road.  We thanked him profusely for taking action and for listening to our concerns. 
 

We rode away with great satisfaction, knowing we had actually made the city a few decibels quieter.  How empowering!  We also found our new favorite restaurant.  How can we not frequent a place with such an incredibly nice owner?  
 

If you live in Columbus, OH, please go to the Poong Mei Korean/Asian Bistro on Reed Road. Any owner of an establishment who conducts himself in such a civilized manner deserves the highest recommendation. 
 

Big cities aren't so bad after all. 

Poem: I Wish I Could Recall

My father passed away when I was 23 and he was 63.  
He was a wise man.  

I wish he had been around much longer.

Why do I remember

Such a thing?

The way he sat

By my side,

Homework on my mind,

Math problems due,

But he would talk

About bigger things,

Moral things,

Historical things,

I feigned interest

Truth be told,

Politely commenting,

Smiling, remarking,

Secretly wishing

The lecture would end,

I wish I could recall

One word,

One snippet of wisdom

From then,

To guide me now,

Had I known

He’d only be alive

‘Til I was 23,

I would have

Recorded, remembered,

Listed his words,

Yet who I am,

 How I act,

What I speak,

And how I live,

Are all an extension of him,

I live his words,

At least

I hope I do,

I miss you dad.