Monthly Archives: October 2013

A Ghoul’s Lament

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This past week, writing has been daunting,

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Leaving me scorned by the mighty pen,

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Floating unanchored,

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As if a branch of skills is screaming for attention.

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The haunting question remains: how does one not use the blood of blogging as a distraction from the longer pieces that are boiling through my brain, begging for mercy to be written.

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Without discipline for simultaneous both, I’ll end up a speechless ghoul.

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A telltale, but fading heart,

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In the sad, sad life of a writer.

October Blues

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In the lap of luxury, or possibly the loneliest lull,

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On a day of dual clouds and a single sundog,

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I contemplate the meeting of heaven on earth,

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The sheer beauty of it all.

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                                                And I think to myself, ‘What a wonderful world.’

October Blush

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Where the sun in clouds meets the moon in sky,

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And mix once more in water,,

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As the broomstick of Wicked Winter winds down the hours,

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  I navigate the awe of Fall.   And oh what a ride it is.

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Pondering the speed of seasons, Mother Earth blushes.

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                         Time ticks away like an old fashioned double bell alarm clock.  I think,                                            Whew!  Hang on and Tick Tock!’

Before you know it, before you imagine it will happen to you, it will most assuredly be.            And nothing is a better reminder of the fleet of life than the colorful days of autumn.

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The Long Shadows

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There is a sweet sadness at this time of year,

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Fractured signs of it everywhere.

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Illustrating that fall gets woven from threads of late summer,

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A time of covered legs and long shadows,

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A footprint of summer passing by.

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Cooler nights, shorter days, feathery gold and crisp blue,

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Ominous big bird skies.

We, the creatures, prepare to hunker down.  But first, like most New Yorker’s, I’m very busy in the Fall, like going back to school with great enthusiasm, goals of many to be accomplished.                                                                          As we wind toward the reality of darkness and the cold, I gravitate to the shelter of lovers of life, men and women for all seasons, good books in front of fireplaces, delicious theater, heavier food and cashmere clothing, the tools that say to Old Man Winter, ‘Bring it on, it’s all good to me.  I’m just grateful to be here.’

Crossing The Hudson

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After three quiet evenings in the country, we crossed the George Washington Bridge on Monday afternoon.  Usually we’re on it in the dark of night.  By day, it’s a river of industry flowing into the life of NYC.IMG_6091

This new building is right at the entrance, covered in a skin of clouds.

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The view out the sunroof, when I noticed, among other amusements, the meal related trucks.

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A transporter’s ad for the appetizers it carries,

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The main course brought to us by Bumble Bee,

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Baci chocolates for dessert,

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Stacked chairs on a new car carrier, sans cars,

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One of a few horse trailers going to New York.  Go figure.

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By the time we hit the West Side Highway, we were no longer quiet country folks but had joined the excitement and the speed, while counting our blessings for the green peace of Sullivan County and the bustling energy of our beloved city.  It may seem insane to those that live elsewhere, but this place inspires me to no end.

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I sometimes wonder if I will ever tire of it, but so far,                                                                                              it feeds my heart and soul, coming and going.