The Silent Pen

Barren pages beckon
To the silent pen
Begging its caress

Shadows of words
Hang suspended
Fitfully tangled

Like lovers
Flirting coyly
Desires denied

Come to me
Complete me
Touch me again

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Silent sentries
Inhale the sun
Abide the rain
Embrace the seasons
Welcome the world
And reveal the heart
Of the home

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Color It Sold

I guess it wasn’t until I saw an ad for a blue snowblower that I realized how much color plays into our purchase decisions.  I mean, I know that I would probably never buy a red banana, or pink celery.  I don’t like white cars, and orange anything leaves me cold.  But it never dawned on me how often colors affect a lot, if not most of the things that  I do buy.  Just before Christmas this year, my wife was watching QVC and they were selling some earbuds.  After describing the features, they proceeded to show the array of colors they come in.  My wife chuckled and  said “what difference does it make.  They are only earbuds”.  I nodded knowingly without divulging that one or her stocking stuffers was a set of earbuds, in blue to match her tablet which, of course, had come in colors too.

Since my  epiphany, I have started to take notice of the impact of color in my life, and apparently yours too, given the bent of marketers to make sure you have a choice.  When we bought a stand mixer, we finally decided on cinnamon.  Our cookware is in an array of colors.  While selecting a new parka, I knew well in advance which one I wanted, but I couldn’t decide between burgundy and gray.

Oh sure, I know that there are tons of items that have always come in a variety of colors and for the most part, we take them for granted.  But it seems the ‘dye has been set’, so to speak.  The other day, I saw an advertisement for storage shelves and yup, I could get them in red, or blue, or bronze, or platinum.  Storage shelves!!  Come on.  Really?

I have always had a favorite color.  It is blue.  Any shade.  I just like blue.  However, I do not go out of my way to seek it, it just appeals to me when I see it.  I think most of us must be this way and are naturally drawn to a color or colors.  Just ask anyone in the paint industry.  But it appears we have progressed to a new level.  Especially in metal and wood items which up until the last few years looked like, well, you know, metal and wood.  I don’t know if adding color would influence my buying decision when buying a spade or a snow shovel, but I have one of each and they are yellow and blue respectively.  Not sure how that happened.

Anyway, now that I am on to the subtleties of color insinuated upon me via the power of suggestion, I am going to consciously evaluate my future purchases.  I refuse to be  pushed and prodded into buying something based on color.  I will no longer unwittingly be enticed into purchasing designer tools and equipment.  Quality, form, and function will be my litmus test.  Is it well made?  Will it do what it is designed to?  And is it worth the price.  But, if it just happens to come in blue, well, that’s OK too.  Just sayin.





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The Last Cookie

OK, I ate it.  Guilty as charged. I ate the last cookie, something I don’t often do.  I know we both like them, so I usually leave it for my wife while she is leaving it for me.  So, as often happens, one of us eats a hard, stale cookie or it gets thrown away.  Done! Finis!

As I devoured the last remnants of mine, I pondered why I hesitated before deciding to snatch it from the jar.  I mean, it’s only a cookie.  It’s not like I just drank the last beer.  Now that would be a travesty.  Perhaps it’s because I don’t bake and she does, so I feel like they are her cookies and I simply have an invitation to share them, not finish them.  But I doubt it.  If that was so, I would never be able to polish off another meal, because I don’t cook either.

It has got to be deeper and darker then that.  Something ingrained well within my psyche.  Sinister enough to force conscious thought before performing the deed.  Maybe a sub conscious holdover from my childhood, long buried.  Was I disciplined for eating the last ‘something’ as a kid?  Did I once display gluttonous tendencies that had to be dealt with at an early age.  Or, does it have something to do with my desire to control my weight and the guilt that eating that cookie instills?

It could be any or all or none of the above.  It may be a lot simpler  then I am making it out to be.  I am giving this way too much thought.  In the end, it all comes down to why I think I ate it, and I think the only reason I ate the one last cookie is because there were not two cookies. Works for me.


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Sometimes, after a big meal, nothing beats a little nap

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Our hands
Cannot touch
Without feeling
Yet our hearts
Can feel
Without touching


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Exhaled breath shaped into words
Subtle sounds against the ear
Sworn secrets, speculation
Enhanced, betrayed, attested
Validated but by the telling
But not beyond a whisper

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