Posts tagged: heart

No Curtain Call?

LIFE’S PLAY

BY

PAT ENGEBRECHT

curtain opening

 

WE CHOOSE OUR CAST

OR DO WE?

PREORDAINED? OR PLANNED?

 

THE MASKS WE WEAR

WOMEN SHARE

          SEEKING AND WITHDRAWING

Thespian masks

      DAUGHTER CAME, DANCED A WHILE.

               LIFE’S  LIGHTS DIMMED

DARKNESS SWIRLED, SHE

DISAPPEARED

LEAVING MISTY BROTHERS

    TO DANCE HER SONG.

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GRAND CHILDREN PLAY THEIR PART

               WARMING MY HEART

         I FADE AS THEY COME INTO FOCUS

Poo hugging copyThe trips on the beach at sunset

HUSBAND LOVES…I GLOW

WITH TIME WE GROW

             EVER CLOSER

man woman embracing

 

 

jazz_art_painting__music__musical_instruments__abs_abstract_art__abstract__d313714df186e298c5c2dbc9b1567843

    THE DRUMMING GROWS

   LOUDER…FASTER

     THE COFFEE SIMMERS

           THE LIGHTS GROW DIMMER

  THE CURTAIN CLOSES…SILENCE

NO APPLAUSE, NO CURTAIN CALLS. 

 

stage_curtainsappaluse

                                                                     ONLY SILENCE

 

 

LIFE AFTER DEATH

NATURAL GARDERN

COMMEMORATION 

By Pat Engebrecht

In the early morning hours

When the sun’s rays are low

 Slanting through the bower

  Reflecting dawn’s golden glow.

I think of you.

In the quiet awakening of the day

I sit  on the garden bench

Alone with you in my special way

Of remembering.  I feel your presence

In my heart. 

 The spider’s weaving of the night

Catches dew in gossamer threads

Reflecting in those early rays

The sight of you.  Our love spreads

Warming  me through and through.

Life’s promises we shared

The Laughter and the tears.

These memories

Grow sweeter with the passing years

    As you live in the garden of my heart. 

Ode to LauraJo

ODE TO LAURAJO

By

Pat Engebrecht

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Born on the season’s cusp
Eyes yellow-green
The color of summer days.

Hair.  Tendrils of curls
Touched by the sun,
 Shimmering corn silk
As the season ripened.

Thunder storms echoed warnings.
Brushed aside,
Taking life in stride.

Music and dance,
Living in a trance of normalcy.
The days shortened
With winnings and songs.

The darkness cast shadows denied.
On strength and talent
Relied.

Somewhere deep
The monster grew
Eating away the heart
That was you.

You battled fiercely,
A fire-spitting dragon.
Cried to the Gods…

But the demon kept dragging
You down into its den of destruction
Until there was no resurrection.

I believe in the depth of my heart
It did not get your soul. 

CLICHES/SAYINGS FOR OLD FOLKS

THIS AND THAT 

The following information was gleaned from the internet and who knows, there may be a kernel of truth in it.  At any rate I found the possibilities suggested here to be entertaining, if not factual.

Cliche: A phrase or opinion that is overused and lacks “original” thought.“You don’t miss the water ‘till the well runs dry.”

Interesting.  Maybe it’s because I’m’ OLD that I pause when I hear some of these sayings. I’ve begun to wonder just where they originated.  Recently I received an e mail that educated me on some of the more interesting origins.  It was taken from a webpage:  DateHookup.com  I share this information.

My older sister is always saying that she has “never had a pot to piss in.”  Of course I know that she is discussing her “worldly wealth” not the ownership of a POT.

What I have learned, (never too old): The beginning of this saying was “piss poor.”  Where did this saying come from?  In the old days urine was used to tan animal skins, so poor families used to all pee in a pot and sell it to the tannery, thus, “piss poor.”

$pot to pissNow you might think they were the poorest of the poor…WRONG!  The really poor folk couldn’t afford to buy the pot!  They didn’t have a “pot to piss in” and were the “bottom of the totem pole.”

Most poor folks had dirt floors…”Dirt poor” but the rich folks had slate floors, “slippery when wet.” Solved by spreading straw on the floor.  Adding straw throughout the winter was necessary, but it would slip outside when the door was opened.  Solution?  A piece of wood was placed in the doorway, hence a “Thresh hold.

Why is June the most popular month to get married?  In the 1500’s May was the month most people took their YEARLY bath and they still smelled pretty good by June…not great mind you, thus the custom of carrying a bouquet when getting married to hide the bride’s body odor.Roses

And that bath?  Baths were taken in a large tub filled with water heated on the stove…and…well, the man of the house got first bath, then the sons, then the wife, then the children in order of age. (At least my sisters and I drew straws so that I, the youngest, wasn’t always last. I’m old but I wasn’t born in the 1500’s.) The very last to get their bath was the babies, hence the saying, “Don’t throw the baby out with the bath water.” old-wash-tub-galvanized-metal-washtub-original-vintage-Wheeling-label-Laurel-Leaf-Farm-item-no-k72971-2

In those early days some area houses had “thatched roofs,” thick straw piled high with only strips of wood as a framework to hold the straw.  The roof was the only place for animals to sleep warm, thus the cats, even dogs, (not sure how the dogs got on the roof?) and other small animals like mice (bugs) lived in the roof. When it rained, the straw would become slippery and sometimes the animals would fall off the cats and dogsroof, hence…“its raining cats and dogs.

And, that’s not all…the small animals and bugs often fell through the roof which really messed up your bed.  So–the “four–poster bed with a canopy” was born.

Food: Ah, we’ve all seen movies of the big pot hanging in the fire.  Since meat was scarce, the stew usually consisted of mostly vegetables.  The leftovers were kept in the pot and new items were added as available which meant some of the food had been there for sometime.  Hence the rhyme: “peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold, peas porridge in the pot nine days old.”  Sometimes they could obtain pork which made the meal special.  When visitors came over, they hung up their bacon to show off.  It was a sign of wealth that a man could Man baconbring home the bacon.”  They would cut off a little to share with guests and would all sit around and “chew the fat.”

The wealthy often had plates and mugs of pewter.  High acid food leached lead into the food causing lead poisoning, death.  For over 400 years tomatoes were thought to be tomatopoisonous.

Bread was divided according to status.  Workers got the burnt bottom of the loaf, the family the middle, the guest got the top.  Hence, “Upper Crust.”

DEATH: In the taverns whiskey and ale were served in Pewter/lead mugs. Imbibers were often knocked out for a couple of days.  Passerbys would find them along the road, mistake them for dead and prepare them for burial.  The family would lay them out on the table for a couple of days, gather around drinking and eating waiting to see if they would wake up.  Hence, “Holding a wake.body wake

Burial ground in England became scarce.  Coffins were dug up,   the bones went to a “bone house” and the grave reused.  In one out of twenty-five graves the coffins were found to have scratch marks, evidence that people were being buried alive.  A cautionary routine was initiated.  A string was tied to the wrist of the corpse, fed through the coffin up through the soil and tied to a bell.  A person was assigned to sit in the graveyard for wake upthe night “The graveyard shift” to listen for the bell.  Someone “saved by the bell” was considered a, “Dead ringer.”

And now you know (a little bit more anyway.) Country of origin for these sayings? England.

Do You Believe? Life after Death

image001Do You Believe?

Death.  The final exit?  A gateway to a different existence?   Heaven/hell?  Choices.  How do we come to our beliefs?

  A STORY

A tragic accident.  A couple in their prime of life caught in a traffic jam, waiting.  A large truck slams into their car driving them into a truck ahead which rebounds backwards. Their car crushed from front and rear.  Instant death.  A young son recently married, future grandchildren unborn.  Fate?  We mourn.

Our relationship was not perfect.  Disagreements, times of avoidance yet there was this energy between us.  She was young enough to be my daughter, was a dynamo of energy raising funds for needy children, veterans, planning parties, cooking dinners, learning Bridge.  A world traveler from the jungles of Guatemala, France on a bike, cross country skiing in the Alps.  Made friends around the world.

He was a man of the world, An advertising giant.  A sportsman in golf, tennis…you name it.  Handsome, of course, joined her in matrimony and helped her raise a young boy from a previous union.  He retired early, became a child’s advocate and joined her on the Board of the Children’s’ Academy.  Dead?  Can’t be.

Here, and then gone.  Their friends gather.  We all look around expecting to see them in their varied activities.

“I need a sign!”  Her close friend cries, “To know you are OK.  Feathers!” We both collected feathers she explained. “It’s gotta be big for me to believe!”  The days went by.  A trip on their boat away from the happening.

“You won’t believe.”  Her awe still a whisper in disbelief.   “We docked, climbed down from the deck walking through a park area.  I stopped, caught my breath, disbelieving.  There in a large circle were feathers…lots and lots of feathers all stuck into the ground.  My husband couldn’t believe it either.”

Pink SpoonbillAnother friend.  “I’ve been looking for a pink feather from our native Spoonbills.  After two years, no luck.  Today, I found two beautiful pink feathers.”

My particular sharing with this friend was heart-shaped stones.  I would find them along the river bed or digging in the garden and would put them aside awaiting my return to our southern community to give them to her.

Heart_shaped_stone_by_antigravity22

It was the day of her community memorial service.  A busy day, no time to take my usual stroll along the boardwalk into the community salt flats.  I hurried along the boulevard and the next thing I knew I had turned onto the boardwalk.  It was early morning, the sun filtering through the pines.  My heart slowed taking in the leaves glistening with due, the mangrove roots poking their way through the mud and then I stopped, breath paused in disbelief.  There, caught in a spider web were several long needles from the pines above…their design? A perfect heart lit by a slanting sun ray, the web heart swaying gently in the breeze.  I believe.

 

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Life Interrupted

Were they laughing and talking?
Planning or arguing
When death snatched them from this world?

Denial echoes within me.
No! No! It cannot be.  A mistake.  We
Can not accept this deed of fate.                                                                                                                                                                This young couple gone?  Wrong!  Wrong?

Too young.  Too young, so much to do.
Children from the Academy, her shadow fading.
His brother breathing deep.  Disbelief…Life?

Don’t go!  Don’t go! I cry.
We have fences to mend, words to deny,
Hugs to be given, but…why?  Why?

Pickled beets on my shelf
Cards  unshuffled on the table.
I’ve heard Death is our shadow
The moment we’re born.

Fate is a hunter, we pause, we mourn
But give thanks for our very brief
Moment in time
When our love entwined.
Divine?
 

 

 

Past and Present

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The past is with us always.  We are today what we have experienced in our lives:  love, hate, joy, grief.  This original song sung by LauraJo during her ten-year battle with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) echoes her message of thanks for all those who loved and reached out to her.  Her love is evident, her message, We are not alone. 

The CD can be purchased through createspace.com/2024149.  Go to www.patengebrecht.com for reviews of the book, When Love Is Not Enough Chronicles of LauraJo , her personal story of her struggles with this tragic disease.

 

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