Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Monday, July 10, 2017
Late for the 4th but for our nation....
Journeying Well
Mountain beyond mountain-
all places we must go
Mountain beyond the one I'm climbing
preparing me, you know…
Mountain after mountain
each journey worth the climb
Mountain peak and mountain view
each one special, each one new
Horizon after horizon-
all calling me to push
venturing beyond what is safe
with limit after limit breached
and all upon this dusty foot…
Sunset after sunset
with color that never pales
Until I reach my resting place
pressing, I will prevail.
Mountain after mountain peak
and singing all the way
What I see from the valley fair
is calling out to me.
Mountains, limitless mountains
all standing in a row
Like soldiers they remind me of
places I have yet to go.
Glory upon glory
and wonders all around
I stand and gaze on mountain peaks
for this is hallowed ground.
Mountain after mountain peak
and pressing all the way
with story upon story to tell
I must be leaving-on my way.
Fair mountain you are a friend to me
I tuck you near my heart
Calling out to travelers everywhere
to up and run, to leave...depart!
Shake off the dust of yesteryear
And breath in something new
Fair mountain with one hid behind
is calling out to you...
So pack then, lightly friend-
brave travelers alike
And we will feast on mountain airs
on this, our lofty hike.
Soldier on, yes soldier on
and we will greet the day
Standing where our ancestry stood
stalwart, come what may.
Mountain fair, O Mountain friend
to you we rise and sing
all gathered 'round
as children clad
receive this-our offering.
Mountain looming, mountain next
to you we must away
and stand where our tomorrow shines
brighter than our yesterday.
Fair mountain on horizon, towering
you beckon to me and call...
I will conquer and upon you stand
for you are fairest of them all!
Arise, O slumbering nations!
and enter into rest...
Banishing strife and your warring cease
to receive this-our Maker's very best...
For we each are gentle warriors
on this, our Earthly home;
each precious day a gift on display
to unwrap, to discover and to humbly hold.
And treat this one time journey
just like a loving child...
held so sweetly to your breast
never left soiled, tired--undressed
And with a lightness in your step
run free, run brave, and run wild.
© K. Annie Powell
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Liquid Gold
It hurts to miss
my babies
on sad-eyed days it's
as if
I have an aching sob trapped up
in between
my belly and my ragged eyes...
I find myself wanting
Today I am missing
my grown up (for the most part) dear children.
Where are they, my babies?
My dear 'first born' chief of a boy
with endless satire and wit
(he needed me-I needed him, too...)
and my dear second born sweet girl with beauty
I never thought was possible to find
in this day
in this life
She is smart
pretty
and so discerning
She is still a wonder to me
This woman-girl
now turned 21
The years rolled by
I walked through the days
as Mother
of the Marvelous
to my sweet bright beautiful and fearless
children.
They were bounding through life.
My 'constant companions...' (as I lovingly named them)
were mostly
side by my side.
And we had our strong 'Dada-'
the man of the house;
a man whose soul
is so immense that it fills the big planet
with peace, hope,
joy
and with love.
We were lucky
in this regard.
I spent my days watching them grow.
And we daily 'dreamed up' things we could do....
(We had our fun!)
We walked on the beach
We read our stories
We stared at animals
I spent my days watching them grow.
And we daily 'dreamed up' things we could do....
(We had our fun!)
We walked on the beach
We read our stories
We stared at animals
Played with our food
Oh the years of plastic animals!
Oh the years of plastic animals!
Horses, cows, and dogs standing solemn
in a line
all about the living room floor.
Those friends!
Legos shaped projects
Star Wars
in buckets and piles
assembled to stand
as a tribute...
All the many projects
in preparation
for the great unknown
that waits ahead.
I served them by driving them some and sitting with them
and tending to their many needs...
these were all (in their own way) indescribably precious times
stacked up to complete
the person I was
I was becoming
they were becoming
we became
we saw
we went
The young man
and woman on the verge
have grown up now
for the most part
and they don't need me like they used to
at 26
and now (just)
21...
One is away-
while
the other
is
away a lot
and tending to their many needs...
these were all (in their own way) indescribably precious times
stacked up to complete
the person I was
I was becoming
they were becoming
we became
we saw
we went
The young man
and woman on the verge
have grown up now
for the most part
and they don't need me like they used to
at 26
and now (just)
21...
One is away-
while
the other
is
away a lot
but she is here?
Our times-
our seasons
that were filled with love and flavor
are not unlike the misty mountain vapor
that is
bound to rise
and reassemble
over the next mountain ridge.
© Karen Powell
Our times-
our seasons
that were filled with love and flavor
are not unlike the misty mountain vapor
that is
bound to rise
and reassemble
over the next mountain ridge.
© Karen Powell
Friday, June 23, 2017
A Thousand Small Jobs...
So much of my time
is 'frittered away...'
with a thousand
small jobs...
Load and unload.
Refill the soap containers.
Refill the salt.
Wipe the floor.
Shut the door.
Let the dog in.
Refill my phone.
Trim my nails then
wash my hair...
Wash (and re-wash) my clothes...
Give the cats water.
Feed the lizard, Wrastle
and sift through his sand...
Then, the god-awful
cat pan.
:-O
Saturday, May 6, 2017
Spring Birds that sing. :)
This Poem
I don’t want
this poem crafted
with stanzas
or to end
with a shocking ‘surprise’
Most
certainly I do not want this poem to gob-smack
you right in
between your eyes
I want this
poem to be like a muzzle that sneaks up behind for a little cuddle
I want this
poem to be soft, feathery, and brown
I want this
poem to grow right from the ground
I want this
poem to be lighter than air
I want this
poem to float everywhere
I want this
poem to sing a sweet little song
I want this
poem to just happen along
I want this
poem to vanish as you turn your head
I want this
poem to greet you as you rise up from your bed
I want this
poem to fly fly away
and to come
back at the end of the day
I want this
poem to give you a thrill
I want this
poem to meet you over there on the hill
and if
you're in doubt the same time next year
I want this
poem to reappear.
© Karen Ann Powell
lg
:)
Sunday, April 16, 2017
Saturday, April 1, 2017
'Yourself.' :)
Tender spring flower in Boone, NC (as a consolation for those of us longing...for spring.) :)
The only person who can help 'yourself' have a life full of meaning, is 'yourself.'
Some spring blooms in Wisconsin (last year.)
lg
:-)
Tuesday, March 21, 2017
PROJECT!
Finished! Antique wedding kewpie (porcelain) dolls for Marge P.
I have been working on this project for a bit!
These are antique porcelain kewpie wedding cake topper dolls
that have been restored. The shiny satin fabric is from
my great Aunt Helen's wedding dress!
Below is a 'before' photo!
lg :)
Tuesday, February 28, 2017
The token must go...
So, I contend that there a but a few man-made thing-stuff items that are worthy of a photo. But here is one of them.
(A 1964 red-box Parker Brothers Real Estate Trading Game Equipment; "Monopoly.")
I recently bought a complete board game and have been waiting to show you this...
because they are doing away with a token.
Big box, big board.
***
Yes, they have officially 'voted' to do away with one of the token pieces....
:( = much sadness.
Below is the link to an article.
Click on it to find out which one,
but do tell me your...
(1) best guess...and
(2) your personal token favorite, too.
And...(3) if you could 'invent' a new token,
what would it be??
***
P.S.
I intend to buy as many of them...as I can.
(You've been warned.)
;-)
lg
Monday, February 27, 2017
Christmas...
pasta.
Another of my husband's culinary adventures: Jade noodles (or Christmas Pasta)
made with spinach, leek, scallions, chives and basil...
yum yum yum yum
Thursday, February 23, 2017
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Saturday, February 4, 2017
Milygge
Upon contemplating the concept of hygge, and ferreting out how it
*might* apply here, I have come up with some (native) Milwaukee hygge-isms, if
you will.
I have given it a lot...of thought.
Here is my indigenous list:
1. Milygge, pronounced 'Mil-uu-gah' or 'Mil-ew-ga' is what we
Milwaukeens conjure up to generate our cocoon-like feelings of safety and
well-being while in our car (in which we spend a lot of time.) It looks something
like this:
Driving down the interstate in my salt-stained car whilst
contemplating the Packers and...sunshine. (Wait, aren't they the same thing?)
2. We Milwaukeeans readily practice Cheeygge, pronounced
'Chee-uu-gah' or 'Chee-ew-ga' to sustain
us and bring enlightenment during the long, long winter months. This involves
consuming voluminous portions of all types of cheese (good cheese; Weyauwega
cheese, Union Star cheese, Cady Creek cheese, All Star cheese, Shullsburg
Creamery cheese, to name but a few) by candlelight, near the telly (most likely
with the Packers or the Packers pre-game on) while donning our (most likely)
green and gold knit stockings. (Here is a more exhaustive list of our cheese.)
3. This next one, we have down. I mean...for real. We do this any
time and basically, well...almost anywhere. Yes, we regularly practice
Brewygge, or 'Brew-uu-gah' or 'Brew-ew-ga'
throughout the long, looong period of winter darkness. We usually
combine Brewygge with sausages, fine mustard, and buns.
lg :)
O.K., let's hygge.
Cabin tucked deep in the Appalachians in the winter; photo by KAnniePowell
O.K...so let's hygge.
The Danish art of 'Hygge' is all the rage in circles of those
convivial souls trying to cultivate a (home) life that nourishes the soul. In
fact, I ordered a book about it. :)
Here is a blurb that might (?) be helpful from wikipedia on the
subject. (I had to correct their misspelled words. Does anybody else ever
notice that?) :)
****
"Hygge is a Norwegian word with a
unique definition[1] (although very similar to the Dutch word Gezelligheid).
"Hygge" as a noun includes a feeling, a social atmosphere, and an
action. The word is also used in compositions as "Julehygge"
(Christmas-hygge). "Hygge" is also a verb e.g. "Let's
hygge" and as an adjective e.g. "A small, hyggeligt house with grass
on the roof".
The noun "Hygge" includes
something nice, cozy, safe and known, referring to a psychological state.[2]
"Hygge" is a state where all psychological needs are in balance. The
antonym of hygge is uhyggelig, which translates as 'scary'.[3]"
Collins English Dictionary defines the
word as "a concept, originating in Denmark, of creating cozy and convivial
atmospheres that promote well-being'.[4]" (Source for all above along with
additional references: Wikipedia; here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hygge)
****
In case you are wondering, 'hygge' is pronounced with the French
'u' nasal sound in the middle and phonetically a bit like this as follows.
(There is a LOT of debate about the phonetic pronunciation!)
Ha ha! :)
Phonetically: 'Hygge' or 'Hu-gah' or 'Hew–ga.' (But get the
French 'u' sound in there!)
Let's take a break and above is a bit of 'hygge' for you. Meditate
here.
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