Aftermath

Aftermath

The sun came out
Three days vanquished by the blizzard
But today it reigned
Bold and bright
Turning the sky turquoise
Making the snow too bright
More than white

I squinted against the glare
Out upon the strange landscape of my yard
Sorting mentally through the mysteries
Where did the woodpile vanish
What was that small bump
Where was the shovel last seen

The dogs in jubilation
Explored the drifts
No sense of trepidation
While turning each pile of snow
Into a game of king of the hill

The cats more timidly
Tried vainly
To left all four feet at once
Then rolled in the powdery stuff
As if all along it had been their goal
To clean their coats

The sun
Despite the temperature
Set out to melt the icicles
Which defied gravity
Precariously clinging to the eaves
In all manner of strange angles

The driveway shoveled
I sat in the studio
Basking in the sun through windows
The radiated warmth chasing the remaining chill
From my rooms and my bones
To long it has been
Since I lingered in a sunspot
Tea and pen
Cats and dogs arrayed
All grateful for today
When the winter sun won
How soon we forget the storm

(c) J. Binford-Bell, January 2008

See The Cerebral Jukebox for other Poetry Wednesday Posts here on Blogger.

Of Snow and Cats

Of snow and cats

Snow
Strange stuff
Who would have thought it up
Rain
Rain I understand
Even sleet
Oh, so logical sleet
But snow?
Such fluff

Like cats
Strange beasts
cats
They purr
What other animal purrs
And meow in cat
Is actually two words
Dogs are logical
Cats
So surreal

Cat on lap
In front of the ire
Huge goose feather
Flakes of snow
Falling outside the window
I find myself studying
The snowy white fur upon my cats face
Most complex
So intricately patterned
Like a flake
of snow

Just for show?
The snow
Each flake unique
or with a purpose unknown
Strange whorls of hair
each part of the cat's puss
With its own unique pattern
Little recessed cone
surround a whisker
Each a different length

I get Adam and Eve
The chicken and the egg
But snow
A cat's purr
It's fur
These are mysteries
to contemplate
Before the fire
On a quiet snowy night

Me
Ow
Two words
Of course
snow
but
one

(c) Jacqui Binford-Bell 2007

Friendshift

There is a lot of drama going on over in Y!360. It all has to do they say about friendships formed on there and supposed fear of losing that as they move away. I grew up as a US Air Force officer's brat and learned early about friends that come and go. The following is the poem I was inspired to write about friendshifts.

Friendshifts

It was El Paso and her name
Was Janet Bender
My first forever and ever girlfriend
But at eight
Forever is a very, very,
Very long time

Her father got a job in Lancaster
My family moved to Albuquerque
For ages we wrote
By post
Requiring stationery and stamps
Through her family's divorce
My mother's cancer
She got married
I went to college
I wrote papers and not letters
She bought diapers and not stamps

In college there were two Barbaras
A Dorothy, a Julie and a Penny
Roommates and friends to study with
Walk to classes and talk of boys
Then President Kennedy was assassinated
They continued to talk of boys
I shifted to talk of war
They got married
I moved to DC to march
Against Vietnam

We wrote and called infrequently
They talked of crabgrass and diaper rash
I ranted about the Chicago Eight
The Kent State Ten
Bragged about having my telephone
Bugged
I think they bugged out
Maybe me
We suddenly had nothing in common
They were registered Republicans
I wanted Nixon Impeached

There are a whole list of others
Friends I identify with an age
We met
We bonded
At sit-ins on the Washington Monument
In consciousness raising groups
Protests against the death of the mini-skirt
In favor of the Equal Rights Movement
Make war for peace
Then later in T-groups and est

We were all moving so fast
One cause to the next
At the time it seemed
They chose to stop
I did not want to be
Held back

Then as if our paths
Were elliptical
We re-met
Here and there an old almost forgotten friend
Stopping in the middle of the mall
After a 12-Step group
To talk of old times
Compare notes
Friends come
Friends go
Some go only to return
When we are least expecting them

Wave goodbye it is time to go
Like musical chairs
Friends shift
Until again
We hug hello
If it is meant
To be

Jacqui Binford-Bell, October 30, 2007

The Internet has freed us up to make and break friendships so much faster. Are they less intense? More a sign of the times in our lives or less.

My Special Place

Whether you Multiply, BlogSpot, 360 or Xanga you understand what it means to have a safe space to unburden yourself, express yourself, vent, whine, crow, or just post silly stuff.

We are all very different people and we are not likely to find everything we want at the same spot in Blog land. Yes we all met on Y!360. Some just stumbled into there, some deliberately came, some got forced there by family and friends. We have all been more or less happy, sought our own comfort level. And now change is being forced upon us or at least it seems as if it has been forced upon us.

I wrote the following poem before all this hubbub. I wrote it after I opened my Blogger site. I wrote it after I realized that Mash was about as far from what I wanted as FaceBook.

Blogging in view of others is a bit foreign for me even after a year.I used to fill hand bound journals year after year. I have boxes of them. Want to know what my thoughts were in 1965. Give me a moment and I can find that for you.

My Special Place

A new blog
Spot
Built on lessons
Learned
From before

And yet
Strange
Seemingly empty
Like the pages
Of a journal
But somehow
Welcoming

After working
So hard
To fill friends
List
Find
Blogs to visit

Then knowing
It wasn't
My aim
I wanted
This emptiness

Weeks
Of blogs
Without comment
Knowing
It is for me
I blog

This
Special
Empty place
A depository
For my
Thoughts

September 2007

And on a lighter note this little poem written from my cubicle at the fair.

The Borg

Don't look now
The Borg have arrived
People everywhere
With Bionic
Ear implants

Battery chargers
On their waists
BlackBerry command center
Permanently attached
To their hands
Borgs
Coming and Going
Communicating to
The hive
Tuned out
Dialed in
Not here

Outer space
Ether nerds
Who wants to be
So connected
To the mother ship
Beam me up

October 2007

Hope you are all where you want to be. And remember to always give yourself permission to change your mind. But don't let anyone change it for you. I just bought the most beautiful, totally empty journal to write poetry in.