Musings on a Sunday morning~

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Opportunity or Fantasy

When something ends a bit badly,

It isn’t always a mistake,

Sometimes, we are reckless with our lives

And don’t think things through enough

Before acting upon our thoughts,

We often must pick through a lot

Of fool’s gold before a rare diamond is

Revealed. —J. E. Cook ©2017

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Bounty in the Countryside

 

Driving past the sage colored pastures

With cows gently grazing on the bounty,

Puffs of cotton clouds fill the pastel blue

Skies,

Old stone houses of varying sizes

Create a magical neighborhood among this

Countryside area of farmland,

One guest cottage with its own little

Garden patch calls to me,

It is quite a distance from the main house

On this farm,

Entering the cozy front room through

the turquoise door,

The hardwood floors shine back at me,

Light streams through the big window across

From the stone fireplace,

I quickly walk through and take in the cozy

Spaces

as I approach the back door,

And go out to see the flowering apple trees

The vibrant leaves fluttering in the breeze,

One picnic table by a small goldfish pond

And a dog napping in the sun,

I hear the murmur of the cows in the distance

As I am greeted with a basket of cheese, wine,

French bread and tart berries gave to me

By a familiar woman in white

with a quilt over one

Arm,

She hands the nurturing gift to me as she puts

The worn quilt over the rough boards on the tabletop,

The clouds seem to be following her to me,

we take our seats across from each other

And unpack the bounty in unison

to enjoy together,

In the afternoon sun with touches of shade

Now and then,

The hint of what will come causes us to toast

To this beautiful day on the farm.  J. E. Cook ©2017

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What are the ridiculous myths in life?

 

Philosophy teachers lecturing about Plato to us

In college,

Believing that every person on Earth has

Another half, they must find to complete

them,

And they will fulfill all the needs of each other

After they fuse together to become one unit

Of love and happily ever after,

sharing

Vows to cherish until they part because death

Has arrived,

But never is a long time to consider

And vow to each other with promises to keep

attached

Until one dies.   J. E. Cook ©2017

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Remembering what You were like

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With me, you were often a different person…

 

Curled inside the new

quilt your mother made us

Feeling the warmth, it provides me

I love that feeling of the cool denim hugging

My naked body,

The blue lining keeping in the inner heat,

Our wedding anniversary of one year has

Arrived and gone,

You have been away for a while on business

In New Orleans,

I missed you so much,

But your phone calls kept me grounded

Here

I shiver and pick at a loose thread hanging

From the quilt’s corner.

You join me under it and many others

like it,

Glad to have you back inside with me,

I cuddle close to your muscled chest

Warm suntanned skin, as fresh balsam scents

with vanilla

are mixed into our shared air,

I rise to kiss your sultry closed mouth,

Our lovemaking begins,

A pin in the fabric pricks my tender skin

Along my inner arm,

I’m snagged by it and a trail of red

Smears me as I move with you,

This not being the first time your mother

Forgot a pin or lost one,

Your lips touch the wounded spot

And everything is better and forgotten

As you keep kissing my skin

Moving upward

To my breasts and lingering there

For several moments,

I’m drowning in your passion,

A devotion that I never considered

An accident,

It was what I once wished for

However, the price became too high

And it had so many strings attached to it,

Ones that were hidden and often dormant

Until they were unleashed by something

Unexpected and unwanted. –J. E. Cook ©2017

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My Beloved One

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I remember many shared seconds, minutes, and hours

Between us,

Some so very special and others too intense with violence,

You came into my life after I cast a wish in desperation,

I thought you were my granted remedy to life’s

Classification of love,

Those first months were full of it,

You seemed strong and well healed,

Like you overcame all your life’s disappointments, trials,

And countless teases filled with scorn.

We grew together and shared our closest thoughts,

The outside world crept in on us,

We were unable to keep the gate locked and sealed,

Your anger over not being in control,

Consumed and punished your soul,

Our joyous dances were tarnished and battered,

I couldn’t comfort you enough to make you forget,

Your past was defining you once more,

Our dual carriageway became more difficult to navigate,

You took with greed and stopped sharing or giving,

Now you are at rest it appears,

Making me a widow; something I thought about often.

 

Some days I still recall you as my head pounds

With pain reminding of your numerous punches

In that one place,

Recalling your muscular knees digging into my narrow shoulders

As you sat on my hurting chest,

Me sinking further into the quilts crafted by your

Mother’s blind hand,

Blackness occurring,

My breath slowing and pausing,

Hearing background noise mingled with familiar voices,

A slight imbalance,

Enough to gain a bit of control,

Then standing by the dark window,

Screaming so loud as my lungs would allow,

Feeling the swelling and bruising of my face,

Seeing you inches from me,

Gawking and shaking,

Turning and fleeing,

Those are not memories, I wish to recall now,

Only the sweet times that we had and captured,

I will still protect those as I thought you once did,

You will never read this,

I am compelled to release it,

My misery is over and you have gone into eternity,

I don’t know if you will be granted that next life.

I always loved you and I am told by your mother

How sorry you were for what you did to us,

I couldn’t live with you anymore,

My daughter’s protection is always my charted purpose,

I will shield her from you as she saved me from

Your aspiration to make me your dead target.

Your slamming hands created some permanent nerve damage,

However, your fate has ended our suffering now.

You are my beloved, and always will be because I forgive you,

As I keep recalling one scene from our shared past,

Opening the door, finding you on the enclosed porch

Appearing to be sleeping with several electrical cords

Entwined and wrapped around your neck tucked inside

Your dusty work jacket as your eyes opened to meet mine

In the dim morning light streaming in through those porch

Windows as tears rolled down your whiskered covered

Cheeks,

Those eyes blood laced and tired,

You tried to hang yourself in our tiny garage along the alley,

But the beam broke under your weight not allowing you

To complete your yearning that early morning.

You destroyed us as they craved for it,

Demolished the trust, our loyalty, and our love

With your growing hatred,

You were ailing,

Me—a woman that was beaten down and belittled,

I couldn’t think straight anymore,

I anticipated peace and justice and found none,

Just like you inside your head suffering,

Your single focus ending this torment,

Mine was still seeking peace and something for my child,

Something that you could not give either one of us,

Hope keeps me going,

We felt a kinship at our beginning and built on it,

I broke my own rule to be with you,

My beloved, I want you to be at peace now,

Even though, I am not sure that will be possible

After all, you did here on our planet Earth. –J. E. Cook ©2017

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Death by Devastating Causes

Lawrence Cook

ST. PARIS – Lawrence E. “Frosty” Cook, 57, of Saint Paris, passed away on Friday, February 3, 2017. A gathering of friends and family will be held from 1 to 4 p.m. on Saturday, February 11, 2017 in the Evans-Purk Building, 115 S. Church St., Saint Paris. ATKINS-SHIVELY FUNERAL HOME, St. Paris, is serving the family.

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Speculating about how things might change

or twist into something so precarious…

 

Down to the final switch of fate,

 

Under the eaves of sturdy beams of trust

 

Where Ivy leaves cling to the walls of timeless flights,

With their own iron grip,

 

Never letting go…of their perilous sights and inner perceptions.

 

Flowing ever so wildly, like the steam from a cooling expressway.

 

Bleeding the dawn until dusk separates the distances.

 

Idling freely among the breezes and cloud torrents,

 

Perspiring amidst the opinions and judgements of others,

 

Preferably, living from one day to the next one,

 

If only these ideas could be unabridged and complete…

 

Not caught in dreams of a woman from your past.

 

Often, continually searching for those lost sensations,

While being in the world as something that might be

compared to confinement with no custody.

 

Then, you are taken away to the holes of hell,

Leaving the pits of deceit behind upon exit.

Shrunken memories become the spoken word,

Serving no real purpose.

 

Yet, faces, they reenter and they go…

Like subtle apparitions arriving so similar to

ghostly mirror images on a surface of a frozen lake.

These somewhat fickle beings become the trend,

Inside the minds that are

never letting go…

Honestly, time doesn’t heal all,

Not the things that never happened, or the things that did.

What is left behind becomes the fog of oneself?

Time,

Is so relentless,

Thoughts are garbled,

Can one honestly, think about their early years

As this insatiable insanity continues to fester,

Longing for a time in the past,

But, there is no future.

These tangles of yearning,

Caused the original darkness where you

Adapted to your inner sanctum

Where loving, hating, and everywhere between…

Caused the cursing, the changing emotions, and

Many hardened thoughts.

 

I am wearing a flowing scarf of strangling tensions,

With the past that has grown tired of the aggressive belligerent,

Tugging,

Of never letting go…

Until you are gone.

–J. E. Cook ©2017 (In memory of Lawrence E. Cook)

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