the-smiling-pony.deviantart.com
.
I wonder ~ wonder
why others are so different
.
parents don’t “fire” * them
.
===========================
* Defining “fired” I as a child believed:
For me, as a child, being “fired” meant
that my parents would not love me
and keep me. I didn’t know what would
happen…maybe disown me, not speak to me.
Maybe even send me away…
I realize as an adult, that I didn’t fear my
parents … I was just puzzled.
.
I never thought of this as abuse. I didn’t know
what abuse was as a sheltered child. It was
not discussed except for the uncles mentioning the
razor strap that still hung on the bathroom door in
the house they grew up in.
The mystery was to me, why I could see other
families that were so different, so open,
lots of conversations, arguing, even disappointing
their parents… or disgracing as my parents would
have called some behavior.
Family behavior as I saw and read about puzzled
me. A real mystery as to why other families
were forgiving. My family rigid and high
expectations. I don’t know where I got
the idea a child could be “fired”…. I carried
the idea into adulthood. A mystery to me.
.
Friends,
I realized after posting the haiku that it
probably didn’t make any sense to anyone but me !
Thank you for visiting my blog and “liking” and
commenting on my posts.
Peace
Siggi
© 2011 Watercolor on YUPO…Sigrid Saradunn
.
.
What gets my heart beating
…. knowing the day is full
of surprises, or not.
.
.
Three nights I go to sleep
knowing when the sun rises
off a painting I will go.
It will be either one of the
nine to throw away
or the one A-HA painting
that keeps the muse flowing.
.
.
My blood keeps flowing
as the words flow out
of my pudgy fingers
from my aging mind …
got to get them all out …
but the void fills again at
night…with more to write
and lots to say.
.
.
My muzzles have died,
I have no fears any more.
I live to say what I need
to say, to paint what I need
to record.
I’ve lived long enough
to be a problem to my kids.
Wish I could be here
in the end … to see them
figure out who that woman
they called MuM
really was.
.
You are among toads
Bird’s Eye View of Dutch Tulip Fields…peterjsullivan.wordpress.com
.
Tulips
The first flower
I recognized by name
as a child; the first flower
I look for in the spring.
My oldest forty plus
years…yellow/ red
still blooms.
.
The rainbow
of colors, endless colors
… I long to see huge fields of tulips
of every color and color combination.
Plain and fringed, soft pastels
or bright as a box of crayons.
Earthly fireworks.
.
Photos can’t possibly
do the huge fields justice.
I must see for myself.
.
Tulips
as far as the eye can see…
if they were resilient as the sea,
I’d love to lay in the middle of a field
looking up to the sky through their
petals translucent and velvety
at the same time.
.
A patchwork quilt
from Mother Nature.
Heaven scented.
.
I’ve not had the blessing
to know til today that some
have a scent…my new quest
to grow the scented blossoms
to remember with hope
when snow is deep
and the air is frigid.
.
Fields of tulips
as far as the eye can see.
In my dreams I can “swim”,
roll around, in the glorious
blossoms… for in my dreams
they’ll pop back up
unharmed.
.
Tulips
The first flower
I look for every spring.
The flowers I dream of in
deep of winter’s snow.
Glorious spring tulips.
Springs sign of
JOY !!
.
.
You are among toads
siggiofmaine 