Written for RDP, where sgeoil asks us
to get creative with the word ‘squint’.
Thanks, Heather! Here’s my take.
Tag: aging
Tea And AARP
Written for Cinquain Poetry Prompt #21.
Our inspiration word is “pain”. I have
written a Mirror Cinquain, a 10-line,
single stanza poem with a syllable pattern
of 2 – 4 – 6 – 8 – 2 – 2 – 8 – 6 – 4 – 2.
The Bank
Our gracious host, Rochelle, encourages us
to be creative by writing a story in 100 words
or less using the photo prompt below. This is
Friday Fictioneers. Here’s where the photo took me.
Forever
Written for Shweta’s Saturday Six Word Story
Prompt #151 – including the word ‘grow’.
Here’s where the prompt word took me.
September Song
This week at Glyn Wilton’s Mixed Music Bag,
he’s asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month.
Here’s my September artist and his song.
The Fundamental Things
Our gracious host, Rochelle, at Friday Fictioneers
asks us to use the photo below as inspiration
to write creatively in 100 words or less while
making every word count. This is my story.
Passage Of Time
This week in Glyn Wilton’s Mixed Music Bag,
“The Last Days”, he’s asking us to write about
a song which mentions the current month.
Here’s my featured May artist and his song.
Making The Climb: An Ovi
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge #96.
This week’s inspiration word is
“strength”. Keeping with the year’s
theme of positivity, this is my Ovi.
The Facade
Written for OLWG #406.
The three prompts are shown below.
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction;
it is not about me and my husband.
The only parallel is the death of my
husband’s identical twin on April 2, 2024.
This is a look at what might have been.
Forever You ~ A Quadrille
Written for d’Verse Poets Q213 – With A Little Help – where Lisa has
offered as inspiration the prompt word “with”. Here is my quadrille.
The Water’s Edge
Written for dVerse Poets By The Beautiful Sea.
This is one of my reworked pieces from 2022.
How I long to walk to the water’s edge,
to dip my toes and cool my burning feet.
There are times I think if I could just reach the water
all my pain would wash away.
Where are the days when I skipped along the shore
collecting shells and rocks and starfish?
My body would bake in the brilliant sun as I danced
like a gazelle from one end of the beach to the other.
I’d look back in amazement wondering how I walked that far.
Sometimes I would catch my reflection in the water
and see that young woman, vibrant and alive.
Hair of burnished gold, skin smooth and lustrous,
deeply tanned, and eyes as green as the ocean itself.
I smile at her but she does not smile back.
Perhaps she knows the hurt that lies ahead
and is already grieving.
I desperately want to be free from these chains of pain
but the key has long been buried in the sand.
I reach for it and again it eludes me.
Where is that young, desirable woman? Where did she go?
If you see her walking by the water’s edge, please send her home.
I have much to tell her. My heart is strong and my lust for life
and love has not diminished. Only my muscles fail me.
How I long to walk to the water’s edge, but my tired
and failing limbs will not support me. Oh, how they mock me!
Will someone carry me to the water’s edge?
How I long to walk there once again.
NAR©2022
From Concert for George, this is Sam Brown et al with “Horse To The Water” by George Harrison
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Memories of Me
Written for dVerse Quadrille Monday #206.
Our prompt word is ‘bend; here is my poem.
I long to be myself again,
before the pain began.
Now wistfully staring at
old photos
of a younger me,
lithe with slender arms
and shapely legs
which once did bend
with graceful ease.
Dancing dreams fill my nights;
I want to sleep forever.
NAR©2024
This is “Pretty Ballerina” by The Left Banke
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Look At Yourself: An Ovi
Ronovan has created for us the Ovi Poetry Challenge 51:
our inspiration is the word ‘steps’. Here is my ovi.
as seen at Poetics at dVerse
No time for speculation
Just truthful examination
To reach an evaluation
Which step I will take next
At times my body fails me
I’m an old and twisted tree
And my eyes can plainly see
Limitations in my way
Scans with the neurologist
Jabs from my orthopedist
Prescriptions at the pharmacist
One damn step at a time
When I look inside myself
I see I’m sitting on a shelf
I may need a little help
Sometimes the climb is steep
Keep up with the marching band
Reaching for an outstretched hand
To gently lift me when I land
Stumbling at the bottom step
NAR©2024
This is “Look At Yourself” by Uriah Heep
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Slipping Away: An Ovi Poem
Written for Ovi Poetry Challenge 46
where “helpless” is our inspiration
I am a lot of different things
A new set of violin strings
The blackbird in your tree that sings
Isn’t making music great?
I can make a five course meal
Fish off a boat with rod and reel
Tell that jerk just how I feel
I wear a lot of different hats
Sometimes I walk along the brink
I will never let myself sink
My cheeks are rosy, in the pink
I’m feeling happy today
BUT there are times I feel crummy
With butterflies in my tummy
And my brain is gooey gummy
As they say, it happens
When it rains my joints get sore
And I just want to yell, No More
Leave me alone and slam the door
Those are things that get me down
Some nights I can’t get to sleep
Dark fears into my head will creep
Being pulled down by waters deep
It can be rather frightening
Every day I’m getting older
The weather feels a bit colder
Where’s that woman who was bolder
I feel her slipping away
I have great fears I must confess
I don’t want to be someone’s mess
I never thought I’d be helpless
Please won’t you stay for a while?
NAR©2024
This is “You’ve Got A Friend” by Carole King
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Dem Bones
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge
is challenging us to write a
Six Sentence Story using
the word “kick”. I threw in 8 other
prompts I had in my back pocket;
this is my response.
Last week I had my bi-weekly (every two weeks) session with my pain management doctor; I always get a perverse kick out of the term ‘pain management’ and feel like I need to say something witty and clever (sarcastic) about it to the insentient people who work there, hereafter referred to as ‘the staff’.
“You know, the term ‘pain management‘ is all well and good however I’m really here in search of ‘pain termination‘”, I mention to the front desk receptionist who is characteristically unresponsive; my darling, unceasingly patient husband stands to the side with a sheepish yet accepting half-smile on his face (sometimes accompanied by a masterful eye-roll) knowing all to well there are times I cannot or simply will not control my Sicilian forked tongue, being the perspicacious and savvy sort that I am.
My doctor’s office is in a building with other doctors so there’s always a soft parade of wheelchairs and people with canes, crutches, walkers or other means of physical assistance going into the various offices; many have spouses/friends/caregivers accompanying them with dogeared paperbacks, sudoku puzzles or endlessly-beeping cell phones except for my husband and me who both have appointments with the same doctor for ‘management’ of our pain, he at 11:00 and me at 11:20, and so we accompany and entertain each other.
A key is needed to unlock the door to the ‘Guest Restrooms’ which are located near the elevators; this is a major inconvenience and I have issues with this arrangement since there’s not one but two ‘Staff Only’ restrooms in the doctor’s office which screams HYPOCRISY considering the patients are the ones who would benefit from having a restroom nearby and because the ‘staff’ sometimes uses the ‘guest’ restroom when they have their own damn restrooms (but we can’t use theirs), and since no one is actually resting in the ‘restroom’, let’s drop the euphemism and call it what it is – a toilet, FFS!
I persevere and consider the walk to the ‘Guest Restroom’ part of my daily exercise but rest assured – I am seething inside and secretly hope there’s a member of the ‘staff’ in the ‘Guest Restroom’ who might accidentally trip over someone’s cane; there are a lot of canes at ‘pain management’.
Speaking of canes, I bring along my bold new walking stick; I don’t always need it but I think it makes me look erudite, sophisticated and elegant in a nonchalant sort of way, even though my knees are barking like angry junkyard dogs; looking good is half the battle.
NAR©2024
From 1940, this is Fats Waller with “Dem Dry Bones”
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
Forever Dream
It’s time once again for The Unicorn Challenge;
this is my 250 word response to the photo below.
“Tell me again, Tom.”
“It was a glorious day, greener than Killarney in spring. We were out for a stroll, the leaves sparkling with dew. You looked so beautiful, Maggie, you made my heart skip a beat. Bluer eyes than I’d ever seen and hair the aroma of fresh peaches. We stopped and I picked a wildflower. I don’t know how you did it but you twisted the stem and made a ring. That was the day we became ‘engaged’. You said we needed to walk under the branch that stretched out over the path to make it official. I held your hand and we walked to the middle of the little bridge. We stood there and I knew from that moment on we would always be together. That’s where I kissed you for the first time. We were very daring, you being an older woman and all. I was 11 and you were 13 but we knew then we were made for each other.”
“It’s exactly as I remember. Tell me more, Tom. Put your arm around me. I’m so very cold.”
“Do you recollect the day we walked into the woods and discovered that cabin? I called it a ‘dilapidated shack’; you said it was “our dream’. We fixed that place up good, filling it with dreams. We raised our family there and welcomed our grandkids. Now our grands are getting married. Three generations of dreams, Maggie. Maggie? Oh, my sweetest love. Sleep now and dream forever.”
NAR©2024
100 Words
This is “A Kiss To Build A Dream On” by Louis Armstrong
This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.
SEPTEMBER SONG
The events of 911 are on all our minds today.
I have chosen to repost a piece I wrote in 2020,
not about what happened on that horrendous day,
not about hate and violence
but a reflection on a simpler time,
a more peaceful time.
I hope it relaxes your mind and
soothes your heart and soul.
❤︎
When I was younger I remember my grandparents dancing in the living room to some of their favorite ballads: “I’ll Be With You In Apple Blossom Time”, “As Time Goes By”, “I’ll Be Seeing You”, “You Belong To Me”. They would drink a glass or two of sherry and talk about “the good old days” and how quickly the years pass. There was one song in particular that always made them somewhat melancholy. They’d sit side by side near the fireplace just listening to the words and holding each other close:
“When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame
One hasn’t got time for the waiting game”
I was just a kid and I couldn’t understand why a song about weather and time made them sad. That’s the way it is with kids; time means nothing. If someone is 25-years-old, that’s practically ancient! We’d watch shows like “Father Knows Best” and “The Donna Reed Show”; the actors were probably 40-years-old, if that, but they looked decrepit to us. The concept of aging was nonexistent.
❖❖❖❖
You blink your eyes once and you’re suddenly in high school. Then before you know it you’re married with kids of your own. Wait a gosh darn minute! When did that happen? Funny how time has a way of creeping up on you. One day you’re sledding down a giant snow-covered hill and the next you’re taking your own kids sledding down that same hill.
Your little Katie with a head-full of golden curls is now a teenager and you hear yourself saying the exact same things your parents said to you. And now your parents are the ones sitting by the fireplace listening to “September Song”.
Then one morning you wake up and it’s Katie’s wedding day. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and your wife says how dashing you look, still so handsome in your tuxedo and you tell her she’s radiant in her gown, always the prettiest girl in the room. And in each other’s eyes it’s the truth; you haven’t changed a bit since your own wedding day.
You think about your grandparents, gone for a long time now, and you remember the call you got from your mother last week:
“Oh, dear, your dad and I are just heartbroken over this
but we aren’t going to be able to make the trip
up to Vermont for Katie’s wedding.
Lord knows, we hate to miss it but we’ll be there in spirit.
Please give our sweet Katie-Girl all our love.“
You understand; they’re 80-something and don’t get around like they used to. It’s a long trip from Florida to Vermont and they can’t handle the cold weather. Still, you feel very sad knowing they’ll miss their first grandchild’s wedding day.
❖❖❖❖
What a beautiful bride Katie was! Doesn’t her wedding photo look lovely on the mantle next to yours and your parents and your grandparents? Now it’s just the two of you in that old, empty house. Once upon a time, when you and your brothers and sisters were kids, the house was filled with your laughter. But wait – it’s suddenly not so empty and quiet anymore. Where’s all that noise coming from? You take a peek around the corner; there are your grand kids in the living room near the Christmas tree. There’s some rock and roll song on the record player, the 12-year-old twins are playing “Yahtzee” and your 15-year-old granddaughter is furtively sharing a sweet kiss with her boyfriend under the mistletoe.
“C’mon, kids!” Katie calls out from the front hallway. “Your dad’s got the car all packed up and it’s time to go. Say goodbye to Grams and Gramps.” And she gives you both a kiss on the cheek promising to call soon.
❖❖❖❖
It seems like just yesterday but you realize eight years have gone by since you left Vermont and retired to Florida. You think about playing golf but your rotator cuff has been hurting a lot lately and your wife isn’t quite ready to hit the links so soon after her hip replacement. Well, let’s not think about that now. There will be plenty of days for golf. So you pour yourself another cup of coffee and work on a crossword puzzle while your wife knits a blanket for Katie’s grand-baby – your very first great-grandchild.
Now in the evenings you sip sherry in the living room. “There’s nothing good on tv these days. How about we listen to some music? Well, look what I found!” and you blow the dust off an old forgotten record laying on the shelf.
“What memories that song brings back!” And you sit holding hands, gazing at faded family wedding photos on the mantle, listening to Sinatra sing:
“Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December
But the days grow short when you reach September”
And you give your wife a hug and a gentle kiss on the forehead.
NAR © 2020
| It was my great honor and thrill back in 2020 to be asked to narrate a few of my stories on the BBC radio show called Upload; this was one of those stories. I hope you enjoyed reading it today. |
WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND
WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND
Children are a blessing, a fact no one is denying.
They come into our quiet lives all wrinkly and a-crying.
Parenthood’s a heavy task you never learned in school
And if you think it’s easy then you’re just a God-damn fool.
You take them home as newborns not knowing what to do.
Warm their bottles, wash their clothes and clean up all their poo.
Those little babes can tire you out and run you in the ground
And when bedtime rolls around you pray their sleep is sound.
You do the very best you can to teach them right from wrong
And feed them milk and vegetables to grow up big and strong.
Some kids are such a pleasure, they warm their mother’s hearts.
All they do is such a joy; you can’t even smell their farts!
They do their chores, their homework, too, and never answer back
And when it’s time to go to bed they jump right in the sack.
Then there are the nasty ones who don’t do what they’re taught.
Like Harry Potter’s nemesis they act like Lord Voldemort.
They’re mean to all the other kids like a dog without its bone,
A bunch of little shits who make life miserable at home.
They say that kids learn from their folks to live a proper life
So try to fill your child’s world with happiness, not strife.
And don’t forget in sixty years-time, give a year or two
It’s your kids who’ll be feeding you and cleaning up your poo!
NAR © 2021
The Elephant's Trunk 