Where it belongs


Head In the Clouds by Miruna Ivanescu

Where it belongs,
By Annette Marie Hyder

right up there with the birds and with the rain
before it even falls.

It’s hard to get your head out of the clouds
if that’s where it intrinsically belongs.

Forgiveness Finds Me

By Annette Marie Hyder

Forgiveness finds me
For you
Has been seeking me out
Hard on the scent of my betrayal
Like a hound you set on me
Faithful and undeterred
Forgiveness followed me
Saw through my every ruse and trick
And me
Thinking I am a clever fox
Running
Doubling back and hiding my tracks
Crossing the most barren land
And the greenest flecked bog
To shake you
Here you are anyway with your
Hands on me soothing my ruffled pride
That wouldn’t let me see
How fine your fingers
Combing out the brambles would feel to me
And forgiveness, your faithful hound
Has been shut outside the door
Because we don’t need him anymore.

Weltanschauung


Photo of Marilyn Monroe by André de Dienes


This world surely shapes us
By Annette Marie Hyder

as do our senses.
What manner of creature we?
If we could not hear, or taste,
or smell, or see?

Thundercloud Day

By Annette Marie Hyder
(earlier today)

Godiva sleeps curled up like a doughnut of cute.
The slow back and forth sandpaper sound
of her kitty snores
on a thundercloud day and the way
that my daughter’s fingers tap her keyboard
like a fast rain shower
are cozy sounds that make me smile as I write.

Sunday Things: Seventeen

When my daughter, Jasmine Rain, was born, my mom planted a jasmine bush in her back yard. I wish we could all have a tree, a bush, a plant of some kind planted for us when we are born. I think it would create a connection to the earth, to the world around, above and below us — with a sense of ourselves in between and touching both clouds and roots simultaneously — that we don’t see very often.

That bush has perfumed the air and delighted the eye for 17 years now. It weathered Hurricane Charley that came through in 2004. My mom had to rebuild her home but the jasmine stood out of the direct path of the storm and roots clutching earth for all they were worth it stayed put. It is an everyday bouquet and thriving reminder for my mom of her granddaughter so many miles away but always in her thoughts. I like that very much.

It was my daughter’s birthday this weekend and as she turned 17, I know it may sound silly to you but, I was wishing her eponymous plant happy birthday too.

Here is a link to a poem that I wrote that describes, in a small way how I feel about this
beautiful girl who continues to inspire delight and joy in my every day
of being privileged to be her mother:
Jasmine Rain’s Poem

As I commented to a friend, I do have other poems I’ve written for Jasmine. But this is one I am
“allowed” to share with the world. it is a funny thing, she likes to
keep the poems I write for her for herself and prefers that no one else
gets to see them.
She has also claimed poems that were not even written for her, asked if she could have them. What is a mother to say to such a request? Of course I give them to her.

I wish for my daughter the strength of her namesake’s roots, gifts like that of its blossoming, and happiness like that of its thriving.

Wine aged by the sea

Calling all sommeliers! Check this out from NewsDaily:

“CHARLESTON, S.C. (AP) — A California winery on Tuesday recovered four
cases of Cabernet Sauvignon that were submerged in Charleston Harbor
three months ago in the first phase of an experiment to determine the
effect of ocean aging on wine.

Divers recovered four yellow steel cages containing the
wine that was put in 60 feet of water back in February by the Mira
Winery of St. Helena, Calif.

Jim “Bear” Dyke Jr., the Charleston resident who owns the winery, says the wine will now be sampled and chemically analyzed.

Later this year, he said, more wine will be submerged
in the harbor for twice as long as the winery continues to experiment
with ocean aging.” Read the entire story here.


Image via Etsy.com

Glinkle and Clink
By Annette Marie Hyder

The tinkle and plink you hear
is the glinkle and clink
of mermaids
toasting and drinking
a case of fine wine
left at the bottom of the sea.
Surely, they told each other
when they swam up on it,
This offering is for we three!

And the wine that got hauled
to land after that
was not as it appeared to be.
Those bottles were filled right up to the top,
when they opened them back on the shore,
with tears from the mermaids
which they cried upon seeing

that the fine wine was no more.

Commonplace beauty


Image via AlaskaFreezeFrame on Pinterest

For Granted
By Annette Marie Hyder

They grow everywhere in Florida
chorus lines of guitar necks with velvet frets
wearing Marilyn skirts forever rising in an attitude
of windblown that lifts and flips
the crinkled silk they wear.
They get drunk on rain
their soaked heads nodding
in color so lavish it seems like an affectation.
They lean casually after the storms, their skirts spread
to dry in the sun, pink and packing a Ru Paulian surprise
and so soft, so sweet, so ballerina even
in their yellows, reds and blues, their oranges and whites.

We wore them casually in our hair
tucked them, like petaled pencils,
behind our ears in absentminded fashion
heaped them on top of dressers in bowls of water
and in our bath
floated them like candles
burning with color instead of flame.
We substituted them as umbrellas
in our fancy drinks
scented our lips with hibiscus
(a fantasy accord) in doing so
and carried petal promises
to each others lips when we kissed.
We took our waving sea of every day, everywhere hibiscus
for granted. We loved its beauty even while looking elsewhere
for new visual delights. And as is the case
in so many instances of this kind
have only come to appreciate our common place
once it is left behind.