If out of nowhere you smell chicken soup
do you conjure up the memory of someone trying to make you feel better?
If you lay on the grass,
do you see your childhood friends beside you, giggling as a puppy licks your toes?
If you hear the coo of the mourning dove
are you transported back into the bed at your grandparent’s house laying peacefully under the quilted covers?
When you see a child squeal with happiness
are you remembering unwrapping your stuffed purple and pink cow that special Christmas Eve?
Memories are precious
Our goal is to have many more good ones than bad.
via Conjure
image from Pixabay
I love works of art. Possibly because I’m not very good at it.
Yes, I know the basics but, for some reason, I never seem to buy the right canvas. (wink)
We all know of Vermeer’s “Girl with the Pearl Earring.” But today, I discovered one of his works that I don’t remember seeing before and,
Wowzer!
I insist that you meet Vermeer’s “The Girl with the Red Hat” –
the hat, fuzzy and soft enough to feel
the lighting, impeccable
the cloak, smooth and silky beneath your fingers
her moist lips ready to speak
her eyes searching to know you.
I won’t give up painting on canvas but, for now, I’ll stick to painting words.
image source
Simplify your life. Don’t wear clothes.
No more mall dressing rooms.
No more decisions on style and color
No more grimaces when you don’t like what you see in the mirror
No more confinement
Instead of clothes
wear a smile
wear your heart on your sleeve
wear invisible jewelry that sparkles and shines
wear yourself
and dance knowing everyone is probably watching
That’s okay
They are waiting to grow into their skin so they can be like you
image credit
via Simplify
Befuddled, bewildered and baffled am I
to think that my house cannot live in the sky
I’d open my windows each morning at dawn
and wave to the birds as they proudly flap on
I’d puff up the clouds that create my front yard
and bend my own rainbow to hang as my guard
At night I would juggle and play with the stars
then tuck them in safely in soft layered jars
Now, as i look up, I don’t understand
why my house it must always be glued to the land.
image credit
via Bewildered
We were born. We didn’t have a choice.
We didn’t enroll for this class called “LIFE.”
Why would we ever want to “unenroll”?
We might miss something unexpected, something better.
Yes, some days all the hallways are the same.
They lead to the same old classroom,
the same old teachers.
Pencils get dull.
The roof leaks.
Trash cans get filled. Emptied.
But then on the big cork board in the hallway, we see something new.
So even as we sneeze through the dusty air,
step over the nails,
hold our hands over our ears as the hammers pound
and the saws whiz
there’s a new spring in our step.
Something better is coming.
image credit
via Enroll
WE CAN ALL GET ALONG
Come in the house, little mouse
I have a muffin just for you
it’s made with chocolate drops
and lollipops
quite yummy once you chew
Come in the house little cat
and be nice to little mouse
get to know her
you’ll adore her
besides, it is MY house
Come in the house, little fox
lick the ice cream I have made
It’s purple pink
and good, I think
It’s served with lemonade
Come in the house, little bunny
don’t be scared of little fox
have good sense
and confidence
and listen when he talks
Now, isn’t this just lovely
how we all can get along?
it doesn’t take
much food to make
to know we all belong.
© C. Dennis-Willingham
Edited version of my WIP children’s book
image by Pixabay
via Permit
(Just ask how long it took me to choose font colors)
image created by picmonkey.com (I didn’t know it could do that!)
via Creature
She never gets tired of the sympathy visits.
The hugs, the tsk tsks,
the chorus’ of “oh, you poor dear”
So what she broke a bone?
It’s not like her heart lay open – split in the middle like a bagel ready for toasting.
I know she smiles when her visitors leave
How she says, “that’s better” while stuffing bon-bons in her cheeks.
Then another knock on the door and her face turns solemn again.
What a sham by a scam artist!
Doesn’t she know that people have real worries to contend with?
I can’t sympathize with the plight of an artificial pansy.
“All things are relative,” you say?
Well, I’m glad she’s not related to me.
image credit
via Sympathize
Carolyn Dennis-Willingham 