Remembering Mom

 Friday May 3 marked the anniversary of Mom’s departure from the planet in 2021.  I have trouble registering that three years have passed.  I often think "oh, I should call Mama.” or “I should tell Mom about that.”  My dead family don’t seem so distant as I think would be true and yet I know they are no longer here.  I sometimes wonder if I am unfeeling because I do not ‘miss them’ more.  Indeed a puzzle.  Mama’s voice continues to be present—I have many recordings of her on my phone and videos taken of her telling stories or singing songs or laughing.  One or another of my siblings will occasionally surface some new piece of her writing from a keepsake box or packet of letters. Now that am an elder myself I feel the constant nudge to bring those pieces of ‘her’ to the surface so that others can share.   This blog is my ‘memory box’ for whatever those items might be.  I hope it outlives me and lets Mom’s voice linger through more years than I am able to insure.  

Poem From An Old Notebook    (transcribed 11-17)

I sorted through old dreams the other day
Wishes I had laid away,
Wrapped in resignation, tied with prayer,
Put aside, though once they seemed so fair.
It's easier to see them now as past
Unmarked by how I held them fast
And fiercely tried to make them all come true
Their promise now I can subdue.
But you, oh God, you saw them too,
And what I could not know, you knew,
The grace or pain, my gain, or lack,
I learn anew to let them be
And yet once more leave them with thee.

The river proceeds with single purpose- moving on!
One might wish to learn the secret of determination
From such quiet water here, soon to be transformed
And forced to leap against rocks and varied banks.
Undaunted, it will carry on to bring the surf the mountain's kiss
Gentle now but in its depths a heart not meant to sleep.
It has a rendezvous to keep.

August 2017
Written at Brian & Donna's place- 'on the river'.

At Four AM- October 99

Venus
Hangs in the morning sky
thrilling the drowsy eye
that lets lingering go of sleep.
Closing lids suspect the dawn
Struggle to open again upon 
That gathered gleam that ends the night.
It's there!
Kindling dreams 
in the clear morning air.

revision of 11-5-2000

August Morning 8-14

The deck is cool today.
The sun seems busy elsewhere.
So coffee is my 
Companion at the table, 
And I leave the door 
A bit ajar to 
Accommodate the cat.

Outside, the breeze is playing
Hide and seek among the leaves
Where squirrels play.
They sometimes seem to say
"You come too!".

a most recent work from the pen of
G.B.P. She's got bits and pieces in the 
hopper, so check back.

A new poem from Mom

A simple addiction

Coffee is such a bad habit.
The color poses as appetizing
Even with cream and sugar for some.
A wake up choice for early morning
Or lagging lunch.
Perhaps dessert will be
the perfect touch
At dinner's end
With brandy added
Or Irish cream.
Somewhere in the world
A small bean grows
And, harvested,
becomes your drug 

Geraldine B Porter
4-6-14

Lemon Meringue

Lemon Meringue

 

               Awakens a memory as bright

 

                   as yellow and white

 

walls, and flowers, and 

flowers on the dresses  

that I wore when I was young.

Delicious is  only a word, until  

it bursts from an oven

 

And comes to rest in remembrance

On my tongue.

 

                                 GBP    612/ll