Poetry Day

I loved you once,
long ago,
in a place I don't speak of today.

You took my hand,
and guided me into the
depths of your despair.

Hand in hand,
I followed you,
Until I was lost
even to myself.

I don't follow your path these days,
an I happily proclaim,
"I won!"

Introversion

I write
because my brushes have dried,
and I paint
because my pen has no ink...
I learn
because what they taught me were lies,
and I swim
so that I don't sink.
I recoil
because I know the pain of a burn
and I love
because it feels better than hate.
I guess it's been my life lesson to learn
how to master the path of my fate.

Angela J. Schleicher © 2010

Rainy Day

Water pools on the window sill
as a yellow dog snores by my side
Ting, ting, ting...
Incessant spatters of rain
beat against the chimney
in a rhythm only nature can produce
And I wonder
How long 'till this storm finally passes by?

What Was Your Thanksgiving Present?

I never knew I could juggle! Jiggle, sure, but juggle? Well, with this blog, the art blog, the poetry blog, the recipe blog AND the This is La Vergne blog (which has been neglected by me recently, sorry Lavergnians) I've actually done a bit of a juggling act. One day I hope to combine it all into one place. But for now, I like keeping them separated. A place for everything and everything in its place. Ha! Not exactly, but along those lines.
All of that to say there's another new poem.

I've told you how wonderful my mother in law is, right? I mean, who gets Thanksgiving presents? We do! Why, you may ask? Because we couldn't be home with them for Thanksgiving, and they wanted us to know they were thinking of us! We received a box in the mail on Tuesday and Wifester and I tore into it like kids at Christmas, only to find individually wrapped gifts and a note that said "Do not open these until Thanksgiving!"
With a sigh of disappointment we set the box aside and began guessing what could possibly be Thanksgiving gifts!?
On Thursday, after the carcass, formerly known as a turkey was in the oven and I was at that point where I could relax a bit, we embarked on opening our Turkey Day gifts from Wifester's Mom and step Dad. The Wifester got cool book "Strange but True: 100 of The World's Weirdest Wonders, Mysteries Solved. Hoaxes Revealed."
And I received several pads of palette paper, which is waxy sheets that you can squeeze paints on and use as disposable palettes! I also got a super cute notebook with a sweet note from Mom inside telling me that it is for poems I write on the go. Then it said that Emily Dickinson wrote 1700 poems and only 7 were published in her lifetime and to keep penning! How very, very, very sweet and thoughtful! So the first poem I wrote in it is here.
What did you get for Thanksgiving?

Poetry and Cake

I have a new poem, check it out at my Poetry Blog...

and I posted a new recipe at my Cooking Blog

And did I tell you what I did last night? On Thanksgiving Eve-Eve? I bumped into the baker's rack and caused some random objects to crash to the floor, among them was one casualty, only one. BUT... it was my handy chopper! MY HANDY CHOPPER!
Two days before Thanksgiving, I kill my handy chopper! OY VEY!
Guess who'll be hand dicing a ton of celery, onions, carrots, and everything else?

A New Poem

a new poem is posted, here, if you're interested ...it's been a while, wow, like since Max died, since I've written any poetry, maybe one for the Wifester since then, anyhow...there it is, be gentle, I'm out of practice ;)