Haiku Horizons, Circles

 http://youtu.be/QwOO4mjNw3U

Seasons pass, birds fly,

twinkling hues, circle of stars

A gift for your Soul.

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Love circles me, you

deep in swollen pink velvet

blush with pride, equals.

 

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Haiku Horizons, Train

Wedding of dreams, love

Pearl white, dress, train trailing hope

Amid sun burst clouds.

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Train of thought, jumbled

dementia holds, gnarly grip

blank eyes staring back.

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Shove, push, jump, screaming
Train tracks, easy vehicles
Self-harm, blood, guts, death.


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FWF Kellie Elmore

Annie looked beautiful when we first landed in the Caribbean for our honeymoon. We did nothing but eat and drink, and relax in the sun. I had worked 80 hour weeks back home, this was heaven.

We went snorkeling in the afternoon to see  glowing yellow and orange striped fish, in the aqua water. The only decision we had been what to order at the swim-up bar in the pool, a lime drenched mojito or a sweet mai thai served with a wedge of pineapple and a fake red cherry.

Dinner was late and I ordered a bottle of champagne and we ate roasted vegetables,  chicken with spices and loaves of thick, crusty bread. There was dancing so we decided to join other people.  Annie wore a bright flowered dress and soon after Annie suggested we go for a swim, we both loved water, especially Annie. We raced into the water, holding hands.

I admit I wasn’t as good as a swimmer as she was, I loved watching her as she laughed and I could see her head, like the flash of an automatic camera, her blond hair in the warm waves, happy she was having fun.

After about twenty minutes I called to her to come back in, I was getting tired of waiting and started yelling for her to come back, I still heard her laughter but it wasn’t funny anymore to me. “Annie, come in,” I shouted as I was approaching the shore.

Scuba diver. Found at Plongée sous-marine & ob...

Scuba diver. Found at Plongée sous-marine & obt’d Image:Plongeur bouteilles.jpg id’d there as (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

As I sat on the sand, I saw other tourists looking puzzled and  they pointed first to me, then to Annie. The tide was getting rough.  I kept yelling over to her but she would wave and keep going.

I talked to the people on the shore and told them my story. Someone went inside for help, I was getting nervous. The manager offered the use of his own boat and lifeguard. I knew Annie would be mad but I was so worried that they raced into the water on their boat, if she ran into trouble or was possibly sick.

I sat on the beach, like a statue, rocking back and forth. I could not stop crying. Someone offered a blanket, another endless cups of strong black coffee. I saw the coast guard and his team looking with flood lights.  A whole day went by. Finally, the coast guard said they would have to end the search. Someone had called the police as well as emergency vehicles. I was so weak from crying and not sleeping, I could barely speak.

“I’m sorry Sir, there is no body in that water.” We searched everywhere, scuba divers with advanced equipment came and we found nothing. She was not on the property at all, last night we did not let anyone in or out of our community and she definitely is not in the water. I’m so sorry, Sir.”said the head of police.

Finally, I let out a blood curdling scream, “she’s out there, you have to find her” but they shook their heads firmly. Later, everyone walked me to our room and the manager unlocked the door. I looked around, inside, there was not a single item of Annie’s, not her clothing, her make up, her tooth-brush, nothing of hers was there. I saw them look at each other, frowning.

“What did you do to her?” I screamed to the hotel and the police. She WAS here, ask anyone, at dinner, at the scuba diving lessons.” They started to cuff my hands.

“We did, Sir, we did that last night, there never was anyone with you named Annie, you arrived alone checked into this room alone and stayed by yourself. We even called the airlines and you were flying alone there was not an Ann or Annie on the flight.”

I fought with them, I told them she HAD been here but they insisted on taking me to the hospital to get checked out. “But what about Annie? I sobbed. “Perhaps she is waiting for you at the hospital” one police offer said, they gave me a shot and I let them take me, to see Annie, so that they would believe me.

I’m still at a hospital, a different one. Here they also said Annie was not real, over and over again. They call me delusional but even now, after all these months I know that Annie had been with me, for real, even if she had only been in my mind.

That counts, right?

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia

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Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore: sweet – lavender – flute – heir – willow – bask (use one word or all)

English: House in Pamington House at Pamington...

English: House in Pamington House at Pamington viewed through a weeping willow tree. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sweet Angelina,

I feel like I have lost a part of myself since I had to leave to get back to the military. I miss holding you in my arms and stroking your hair that smells like lavender. Now, every time I smell lavender I think of you, of your beautiful porcelain skin, of your delicate fingers wearing the engagement ring I bought for you, and most of all, your stunning beauty.

If not for the war, you know we would be married now but of course it will have to wait until I return. Promise me you will wait for me, my love, because I cannot imagine my life without you. I know we talked about different venues for a wedding but all I want is for you to be happy. Whatever will make you happy will make me happy, so choose the things you want. You know me, darling, I would be happy if it was a garden party with you and our families by our sides, a flute playing classical music in the background as the sun basked in our glory, your long red hair, hanging loosely down your back, soft and silky.

After we say our vows and before the celebration begins I want to take your hand, for just a moment, to our special place where we first fell in love. We looked into each others eyes and we knew then something special was happening. Do you know what place I’m talking about?  Near the stream in the back of the house, underneath the weeping willow tree. That tree that hid us from the rest of the world, our own perfect secret, a love we didn’t have to share just yet. It was the beginning, the sweet unknown, that tingling sensation, of something yet to come, and the promise of our future.

I miss you, my love and hope to see you very soon.

Yours,

Stephan

Where The Sun Rises

Galilee

Image by Florian Seiffert (F*) via Flickr

Right now as I am about to go to sleep there are people waking up all over the world starting their day. The earth continues to spin, bringing me soft cotton blankets and images of sleeping baby lambs. On the other side of the world, in Israel, people are waking up with the energy of a newly performed puppet show for grinning children.

There, old women with white hair put red and blue carpets outside their apartment windows and beat the rugs rhythmically with a broom. That same sound would wake me up in the morning when we visited. Plumes of dust would escape the beaten rugs and disappear into the blue sky like magic.  Once awake, I would tiptoe to the living room window to see the stray kittens and cats on the ground floor crying out, begging for food. I would slip behind my step-grandmother’s back and throw bits of chicken or bread out the window every day. I knew I wasn’t supposed to do that but that was not going to stop me. I would do the same thing today.

There is a main street in the city, Dizengoff Street, that is filled with shops of all kinds and numerous outdoor café houses all in a row. It was a tradition after an afternoon nap to pick a place and have coffee and cake, or in my case, iced chocolate and cake. There was never a question if we would go, but rather where we should go. The one that had the deep chocolate fudge cake or the one that had lemon meringue tarts? Where could we get orchestra seats, a front row table, to watch other people go by. Everyone knew each other back then and it always felt like we were being welcomed back home. My mother was the star, the queen from America; often, people would recognize my mother and come over to say hello and join us as they smoked cigarettes, one after the other.

I felt safest here, walking alone at night with yellow globes of lit lamps along the street and a steady stream of people cheerfully talking near me. I did not fear missiles or bombs or terrorism. I had little more to do than try to avoid eating some of my step-grandmother’s moldy cheese. She would keep little squares of cheese and cut the mold off and say the rest was fine; she did this with all her food. She would hold on to tiny bits and pieces of food in her refrigerator and never throw them away. I tried to stay away from the her home-made dark tuna salad that reminded me of cat food.

During the early morning we would go to a beautiful pool club that was next to the ocean. The pool water was bright, glimmering blue, sunlight crystals sparkling on top of the water like freshly polished diamonds. People would play beach tennis on the beach; the hot sand only a few seconds away. The tide was strong, pulling, pulling, like repetitive pain. The current could go from challenging to dangerous in a split second. Lifeguards blew their whistles here too.

My mother would hold my hand as a child and take me from store to store to find American Cheese and Nestle’s Quik for my milk, I was always a fussy eater. Once we found corn flakes in a tiny store no bigger than a closet and that was a major triumph. On every street corner there were at least one or two vendors selling freshly squeezed orange juice or grapefruit juice. We always stopped for a glass as we walked on the steaming pavement under the blazing sun. I can almost taste the fresh orange essence dancing on my tongue.

In three days my friend’s son is getting married in a forest in Israel. Two interwoven trees, black and white, were beautifully hand drawn on the invitation. I wish my whole family could have been there but it is a long way from home and very expensive. I imagine the happy couple, friends and family, dancing joyfully. I imagine endless platters of food: vegetarian only: hummus with pita, salad, platters of eggplant drizzled with olive oil, home-baked goods and people cheering and celebrating into the wee hours of the morning. Dogs and children playing on the forest floor making happy sounds, babies gurgling with delight.

I need to go back with my husband for a visit. I would like to return to a place where I have a lot of colorful memories from. I would also like to take my mother back to her home. She wouldn’t need to find me chocolate milk or cheese; it’s my turn, this time I would take care of her.

Congratulations Daniel and Nora!

Dedicated to my Mom.

Driving Down A Dark Highway

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Image via Wikipedia

It was just a split second but  while I was driving, I totally wanted to pull a “Thelma and Louise.” Not out of excitement or adventure but out of despair. It really only takes that long to off yourself and the passenger beside you. The conscious part of me was saying “no” but the other part of me was just saying “what the hell?” I wanted to end the misery in my life and let go but I didn’t.

I am at an all time low so anything after this should theoretically get better. But, there is no guarantee; we could keep going down to a depth we had no idea existed. It still wasn’t an excuse to swing wide on a dark highway at night, put my foot down, accelerate and disappear. That’s not the way to go, to give up, to not fight the good fight to be alive when so many others are dying. You deserve to have a life, a happy one.

During that long stretch on the black highway I keep my brights on to keep going. Continuing to drive was automatic, I followed the white lines of the curves ahead slowly and steadily. When two cars came in front of me I was grateful. I never liked driving at night, I have no choice now. I don’t have a choice in a lot of things but that is still much better than some. After arriving back to where we are staying temporarily, I pulled my dog close to me and nuzzled into her neck. Her black and white paws, with tan freckles, reached my shoulders and she hugged me, she knew.

I washed some blueberries that I bought at the store today, fresh blueberries, with the varying shades of bluebirds. Other than fruit cups in fake silver bowls in diners, I hadn’t had fresh fruit in a long time.  I put them on the middle of the bed, on the white blanket, and liked the contrast. I fed a few to my dog who chewed them with utter joy.

I followed the noise to loud music and saw there was a wedding. I saw the bride, dressed in white with silver trim posing for pictures with her sisters and mother.  I wasn’t jealous since I had been a bride too many years ago but I was definitely envious. She was young and this was the start of her life; she looked so happy and everyone around her was giggling and shrieking in high pitch voices. Seeing a bride, my parents used to tell me, “brings good luck” so I lingered and watched from behind a corner.

Everyone is allowed a dark day once in a while. You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t experience them. We all need to cling to the hope that tomorrow or the next day WILL be better. Suicide is not the answer. Hold on, hold on tight, cling to your own precious life. On this National Suicide Day, take it from me. DON’T DO IT.  If you need help, call somebody, anybody, the Suicide Prevention Center or a really good friend and pray for strength to hold on. Promise me, you will hold on tight.

Haiku Heights

Apple heart

Image by Mammaoca2008 via Flickr

ALONE:

The unspoken word

We are homeless in our town

An empty bird nest

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FANTASY:

Dresden, blue and white

I dream of a country home

Beside a green lake

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Autumn:

Soaked and cold and wet

A sniff of crisp, red apple

Seasons are changing

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WEDDING:

Country music sounds

Radiate joy, a pink rose

Clap your hands with love

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MEMORY:

My blonde, baby girl

Velvet, gold curls down her back

Sleeping with the moon

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If I Could Relive One Day of My Past

I Do

Felicia Was Not A Runaway Bride.

My wedding day. I was so excited that day that I didn’t have time to relax and enjoy the event and the delicious food that everyone raved about. I love weddings and any happy occasions. I would have taken a longer look into my parents’ eyes, I would have circulated more and thanked every single person that came to my wedding, in honor of our celebration. I would have most definitely changed the cake since it had no flavor and it was only after the fact they told us the pastry chef didn’t come in that day. 22 years later I look back and wish I had bitched about it!!  I would definitely have kept my white sneakers on because it delighted my happy feet and my guests. I would want the day to have been in slow motion because there are not many days to celebrate such utter joy.

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