Cracked Pot – Repost

Thought this one was appropriate to repost with yet another blast of snow forecasted for Western New York tonight and tomorrow; and, also, as I sink further into the sweet lunacy that seems to be unavoidable as I finish a second novel.  Apologies for my absence from your blogs – hopefully, soon I will have more free time and mind-energy! Thank you for your patience.

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

English Robin Copyright by DM Denton

Looking for a little relief.

The pot is cracked from the cold,
the lavender scented like summer;
spring bulbs show impatience
while knowing they must wait.





img002©Artwork, writing and photography unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

The Appearance of Autumn

To follow on from the previous post and Martin’s poem …

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

The summer looking more like autumn; hardly a reason to be sad, the Golden Rod as bright and breezy as ever were Buttercups and Daisies.



donatellasmallest©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Cracked Pot

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

Copyright 2013 by DM Denton

Looking for a little relief.

The pot is cracked from the cold,
the lavender scented like summer;
spring bulbs show impatience
while knowing they must wait.





img002©Artwork, writing and photography unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

A Home for Oscar

What was your story before it became mine? Before each appearance out of the woods surrounding the yard where I also prowled, feeding the birds you glanced at with respect and filling the little shell-shaped birdbath that had become your drinking habit. A rainless summer offered a bed of last year’s leaves for afternoon naps, the sundial surrounded by withering sedum and aging lavender a place to sit, wash your gray but youthful face, and wonder if I would leave you food before I disappeared. You entered further and further into my hospitality, trusting the door would stay open for leaving.
I wasn’t convinced that food was all you came for. Yet so many nights I shut you out—yes, tried to forget how lonely it was for you, how frightening, and what harm would come to you,  and that, like other strays, I would never touch you and, eventually, never see you again.
Where was your heart before it won mine, broken or unclaimed? Either way I understood how love’s absence encouraged you to wander my way, the moment your eyes revealed their gentle blue, pleading but not too much. Do you need a home? I asked expecting you would tell me. Your words were incomprehensible but understood; your patience was more certain than mine, your answer waiting for mine.
A necessary moment of capture: you panicked, were wild and confused, the door closed on the life you may or may not have chosen. Soon you were stilled into acceptance and readiness; you let me stroke your ears and rub your nose, although not to make it easy to put you in a cage.
How soon you forgave me. How quickly you were family, another lad to watch grow and learn—a teacher, too: soft, pure, playful, and ever insistent that I should be so.

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Memories Made Gently

Painting by my mom, June

Strolling through summer

with no end in sight,

memories made gently,

caring kept simple,

all else distraction

from love at its best.

A few days ago my mother lost her last living sister to cancer. All three are gone now and I know she is deeply feeling the loss of her sibling-family, as diverse and sometimes difficult as it was. I decided it was time to post another of her lovely paintings, and in going through her artwork I came upon this one that I couldn’t remember seeing before, so absolutely delightful and serene. She said she had conceived it as a mother walking with her daughter across the fields to church on Sunday. It prompted a little caption that I hope speaks for itself as I honor her as the best friend I’ve ever had.

All she wanted was another day or week or month of saving memories, the cruelty of death not the end of the future but a longer past.

Blessings for the best of love to all!

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

Repost: Summer Moments

This week I am reposting a poem from last summer. One of the reasons is that I have received the edit of my novel from my publisher and am working on the revisions, which hasn’t left time for doing any new writing or painting. (This is also the reason I am behind on your posts. Please forgive my seeming absence over the next few weeks; know that I “am around” although I may not leave comments, or if I do, very brief ones. Your understanding is appreciated.)

The other reason for the repost is that…

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

…for over two years we have had a stray cat visiting us, at times on a daily basis, at least a few times a week. I put dried food and water out in case he came when I wasn’t home or just didn’t see him, and would give him “the good stuff” (as my mom called wet/canned cat food) whenever I realized he was visiting. We eventually named him “Sunny” because, winter and summer (as long as it wasn’t too hot), he loved to nap in the sun, whether in our driveway or flowerbeds or on the woodpiles. Well, we haven’t seen him for almost two weeks (and neither has my neighbor who also fed him) and are beginning to fear that something has happened to him. Last summer he would sleep on the seat in the arbor we have in our garden, mostly in the evening, shaded by an ever-enlarging trumpet vine, and so I wrote the poem below. I offer it again in tribute to this lovely vagabond who would let me touch his nose only, but who touched our hearts with his patience and struggles and gentle spirit. Hopefully, he will turn up again.

 

Summer Moments

I walk around with my camera
c
atching the moments
b
efore I simply let them go;
the choice isn’t mine
t
hough I like to think it is
s
o I might yet be
a
little
o
f the creator.

A brave butterfly in mourning coat
m
arooned in full flight,
s
potted blue and fading yellow,
p
osing ragged wings,
a
s if inviting the chance
o
f my noticing
i
ts moment
q
uickly passing too.

Cone flowers forming tall umbrellas
u
nder the noon sun,
f
olding down, pretending homage
t
o hybrid lilies,
c
rowded buds swelling into
c
andy cane colors
t
o make most
m
erry in July.

And a straying friend curled beneath
s
oundless orange trumpets,
h
is sleepy eyes wondering what
m
ight yet be taken
a
s I hold him in my view,
a
nd every moment
i
n regret
t
hat he is not mine.



©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.

More Flowering Thoughts…

I can be as busy as the bees on clover white and red…

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

as lazy as poppies only moving in the wind…

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

as bright and blue as the summer coming and going…

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

as fragil and firm as the pea that flowers but bears no fruit…

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

less certain than the bindweed that knows what it wants to cling to.

Copyright 2012 by DM Denton

©Artwork and writing, unless otherwise indicated, are the property of Diane M Denton. Please request permission to reproduce or post elsewhere with a link back to bardessdmdenton. Thank you.