“Prayers for Nebraska’s flood victims much appreciated!”
The scene was set, the curtains closed,
the action – long and drawn out.
Midnight was approaching, and my joy lay open and empty,
right in front of my anticipatory face.
With slow hand, I lightly pinched the pen
between two warm fingers and one clumsy thumb.
Mindlessly, I felt my way around the wet ink’s slippery slopes,
making sexy doodles with the target close at hand.
Whispering sweet nothings into the fold between the lines,
I cautiously bit the end of the pen,
and waited for the word…any word at all.
Eventually, after what seemed to be
an excruciatingly lengthy period,
I got the word, and carefully did I jot it down.
Then oh, so smoothly, I brought the topic up
again…and again…and again.
Something told me not to stop,
not to move from that very spot.
I obediently listened to that voice from up above,
as it got louder with each and every stroke I made amply enough.
After a few easy to come by words,
more and more came as if in haste.
The scribbling picked up its pace,
as did the breathing, which was only natural.
True, my handwriting got a little messy,
but I did manage to get most of it down,
word after feverish word.
It does so happen sometimes –
situations can and do get turned around for the better.
Well, the climax to the story finally nailed me,
and the only thing left to do was to polish it up a bit.
having spent every last drop of my reserved psychic energy,
I hit the hay, resting my case.
February 14, 2019 marks my 10th Anniversary @ WordPress!
What a long strange trip it’s been, but well worth the ride.
HaPPy VaLenTine’s DaY to all my family and friends!
Peace and luvz, Uncle Tree ♥ From the beginning…Post #1:
Celebrating Uncle Tree’s 10th Anniversary @ WordPress!
February 14, 2019
I’m so glad you stopped!
Yes, I’ve been felled and can’t get up.
I never intended to cross the road.
The other side never looked greener.
I do hope you welcome the detour.
You’ll find a knife in the fork just ahead.
In a minute, you can leave your mark.
Carve your initials into my bark.
Now add a plus sign for good measure.
Then under that – the name you treasure.
Surround them both with a human heart,
Captured in love, in rapture thou art.
No skin off my back, I feel no pain.
‘Tis good to be on the road again!
God and I chose my mother when it was time;
time for me to materialize to another state of consciousness;
to the world of my home — Mother Earth.
Allowed to be by the grace of God, together, my mother and father
created and put forth my human form.
My looks, my temperament, and my gifts, intelligently designed;
put in their proper stations, descended genes of antiquity.
Naked, vulnerable, and afraid, I struggled,
then I reached out and cried;
the breath of life…not to be denied.
Fresh, newborn, and willing in my flesh;
a truly authentic specimen — testimony to generations
of forefathers, and absolutely a direct descendant of my mom.
I wonder of Mother’s ability to struggle — to balance,
to direct her energies in raising our family.
I know her face; she is proud of me.
Her somber face of suffering I know, as well.
Supporting the cross I had to bear, she helped me understand,
it would be mine and mine alone to carry, but God would be with me,
over and over again, throughout my days on Earth.
Alas, throughout my Mother’s later years,
I must have my cross under control; well-balanced,
so I might then be able, in return, to help her bear her cross.
No strings of duty shall be attached; just the harp-like heartstrings,
“Reserved: For Mother’s Only!”
I can see her now, sitting at the piano;
loving, teaching, and encouraging with melodies,
harmonies, rhythms and rhymes from The Beatles to Christmastime.
She held my hand and inspired me to a lifelong passion for music.
Now, I cannot even imagine any kind of life without music,
nor do I wish to imagine life without the blessings of my mother.
Somehow, I just know — my soul does understand,
she will always be here for me,
plucking at my heartstrings; guiding me, forgiving me,
and supporting me until the sun sets on my days beyond the hill.
One day, we’ll meet again in Heaven, this I know,
because we love each other, it shall be so.
Written and given to my mom on Mother’s Day in 2001
Rest In Peace
Evelyn Marie Watson
December 26, 1934 — September 25, 2018
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
“Good golly, Uncle Tree! This red stuff is the bomb!”
Here she comes now making a beeline for the feeder.
“Sweet uncle, hate to tell you, but my lifeline has a leak!”
No worries, young lady, we won’t let the well go dry.
“Can you see me now, Uncle Tree? I’m chiming in.”
Careful now, Ruby. You can only drink so much in one setting.
I’ll leave when I’m darn well ready, dear uncle.
10 seconds tops. I got this hankering.
Sit still and take pictures.
Make me famous.