These are some of the words I truly love:
There’s gorgeous, grandiose, and green
then there’s soothe, silly, and savvy
and of course, omnipotent, and magnanimous
along with mini and mania,
but best of all are verbs
like kiss, kissing, and kissed.
These words I will forever miss.
Floating Kisses
What are your favorite words?
All Rights Reserved (c) 2000
Affirm life today
Love your life most of all
You are a universe
Life is your instrument
and only you can be the masterpiece
My husband and I often drive without any particular destination in mind. Last weekend our excursion brought us to a very interesting spot off of Route 46 on Budd Lake. I took some photographs when I heard from a distance someone asking us if we were tourists. I found his comment amusing given the fact we live about 25 miles away. But I guess we did look like tourists as I was carrying my camera bag and holding my Nikon camera fitted with a telescopic lens.
The person was paddling a small canoe across the lake and another person looked like he was getting his gear ready for a beautiful sunny day of fishing. For all we know they could have been the owners or gatekeeper of the property. The castle is now Pax Amicus Theater. Frankly I never heard of it before but very happy we found it. The theater was founded in 1970 and according to Wikipedia “This community theater produces a full year-round season of Broadway and off-Broadway revivals, professional productions of works by Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe, a program devoted to children’s theater, and special events throughout the year.” The most curious find of all was the various statutes dedicated to different people. It seemed surreal to me that along Budd Lake there would be a castle. “The Castle was built in the 1940s as a cinderblock synagogue. Later, it was owned by the Knights of Columbus. In 1978, it was turned into a theatre through the addition of a small stage house, two cinderblock turrets out front, and a fake-gothic facade. It sits at the end of a winding road on the shores of Budd Lake, perhaps 30 miles from Pennsylvania, and is surely one of the damnedest things one will ever run across. A sign over the front door reads “Pax Amicus”-“Peace, Friend.” I would love to know more about the people mentioned on the plaques. As a child this kind of place fascinated me. I suppose it still does. I hope that someone recognizes this hidden treasure and could give us more information. And if you never knew about it, you need to check it out some time.
I watched in awe
sitting in the first row
of a small cafetorium
as forty children performed
their very much rehearsed musical show.
Each child so unique and special
watched in anticipation for the signals
of their beloved music teacher.
The tamborine players started the jamboree
The maraca players joined in at the count of three
Then the drummers followed faithfully.
The teacher’s face glowed with pride
and we all learned for just an instant
to look inside their hearts as she does everyday.
One can see the unconditional devotion
the audience filled with emotion
clapped and cheered as each child was introduced
I heard someone say:
“I will never underestimate
the power of a teacher.”
It is all about one’s expectation
and the magic music can bring.
When all was said and done
my heart was so happy and
wanted to sing.
* This poem is dedicated to good teachers and most of all to those who devote their career to children with special needs. Most of the children in the show were autistic. It was amazing.
I had a dream that I had been a guest at
27 rue de Fleurus
I had a dream
That I had been a guest at
27 rue de Fleurus
Picasso, William Carlos Williams,
Matisse and a few others happened
To drop by.
Oh my!
I felt like I was in heaven.
I asked Matisse to look at one of my portraiture paintings
The one I called exotic lady.
Not a resemblance of me. I think.
He stared at it and did not say a word.
But Picasso approached with caution
and I stepped back to let him
get a good view
and he smiled.
Oh wow!
I did not want to awake.
I wanted the dream to last
So I could speak to Carlos
And ask him about his epic Poem Paterson
This is the town where I taught for many years
I told him.
The place where “everyone has roots”
I believed that “every child is an artist”
I asked him what he thought about his Paterson today
He did not respond but my heart
knew the answer.
27 rue de Fleurus
was a beautiful place
I was in awe of the art
Overwhelmed with the culture
And the echoes of great thoughts
Oh my!
It’s time to get up
Or I’ll be late to work.
Melba Christie 2014
It is a time for peace
Let us make it our business
one at a time or in unison
to once and for all
rid the world of hatred
and violence erase.
Be still and listen to your heartbeat
for it is the same
in everyone’s chest.
We all need it inside of us
in order to exist.
So let this one
of many things
we share in common
drive the manifest
and put our hearts to the test
let each beat you hear
remind you of another soul like you
and let love insist
to keep its home
in each and every heart
which indeed is our own.
Melba Christie (c) 2013
I have participated in several challenges offered by WordPress bloggers. This week I decided to present a challenge. The challenge is to write a tanka Poem. What is a tanka?
According to Poets.org:
Please post your poem and write Tanka Challenge in the Title. Then, comment on my holiday tanka with your tanka’s title and your web address so I can read your poems. I am looking forward to your participation. In the meantime, Happy Holidays to all my readers and followers.
Glimmering lights
dance to celebrate
the holidays
and the joy of a new year
and everyone
is ready for all the cheer.
Melba Christie
Mighty winds whisper out loud for everyone to hear
“it time for all of you to leave, my dears”
the earth prepares for the great gathering
and formed is a colorful mosaic
the crimson’s restlessly await their destination
Will it be bunched up in a brown paper bag?
Or will someone blow them back under their tree of origin?
Will it rain and the weight press down and make them stick to each other ?
Or will an early snow fall freeze them until the spring thaw?
One last ivy leaf was painted on a wall
to save Johnsy’s life one windy fall
Fall’s last call can be very sad
but the beauty of its bright colors
delight the site and make us glad.
Melba Christie
There is a paradise of words
brilliant, exceptional, enchanted
Some still unimaginable
Full of pleasures beyond feeling
to be owned by only a few of us
who understand their delight
and the sensation words bring to the soul
words meant just for you or me
perhaps intentionally
on purpose
I love all words
I love when they decide to dwell inside
my heart and mind
but most especially
I love the adjectives
I love words
when they finally find each other
and mesmerize the poet
captivate the playwright
court the novelist
or muse the songwriter
I love the words that question
the impossible, the self, the irrational
I know I may never meet you all
or feel your intensity and strength
or understand your significance
in my lifetime
But my vow today:
is to seek you
attract you to my poetry
and love songs
so that hopefully
I am remembered.In a few posts I have described the things I have found in my attic. Most times my finds bring me back to a time and place I had forgotten about. I love antiques. I started collecting antiques at an early age. My dad loved to go to antique shops; he’d take me with him on his scavenger hunts for “treasures of the past” as he coined them.
During a visit with my daughter we finally had the opportunity to go an antique store housed in an old barn. What a place. You really need a day to see all they have to offer. As I was browsing at all the stuff I came across a 1940’s Royal typewriter. It was just like the one my dad had at home. It was stolen right after he passed away. I was heart-broken because my dad so loved his Royal machine as my father called it. I actually learned to type on that machine. I couldn’t believe I was looking at the same model. It came with its original case.
I asked the store owner if I could test it. He warned me he was selling as is. I dug deep in my purse and found a shopping receipt. I placed it on the typewriter and typed “Dad”. It worked! The ink was RED. I almost cried. I was so excited.
I bought it right away and could not wait to get back home to put it on my antique desk. I cleaned the machine until I managed to get a shine. I cleaned each key meticulously and I put new ribbon in. I knew I would need to get used to the keys and started practicing. I typed “asdfg” with my left hand and then “hjkl;” with my right hand to exercise my fingers. I had a flashback to my high school typing teacher. She was a drill master. She listened as we typed to make sure we were in unison like a band playing. The keys are harder to manipulate but the sound they make is like music to me to my ears. It took me a few days to get into the rhythm. After all it had been at least thirty years since I had used a manual typewriter. Word processors and computers was all I used.
I love my Royal machine. I will use it to write some posts. I write letters to my grandson on it. Most of the letters let him know about family and things I want him to know about me and his great grandparents.
I love the bell when it is time to hit return and start a new paragraph. Every time I hear it I am reminded that writing and poetry is about life. This machine makes me feel like a royal. I hope to write many letters to my grandson on it. I told him the machine will be his one day.
Melba Christie (c) 2017
Melba Christie (c) 2013
Cover of Start the Revolution Without Me
Cotton Comes to Harlem (novel) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Cover via Amazon
Melba Christie (c) 2013
Poetry is life and a poet can be found anywhere. It is so delightful when poets are appreciated and celebrated. Poets interpret life for us on every level. In my earlier post I highlighted Michael Hoppe and his musical repertoire inspired by some of the best poets. I look for this inspiration everywhere I go.
-Melba Christie (c) 2013
(c) Melba Christie
A Poem to Celebrate
Today and only today
for now anyway
I want to celebrate
my life.
I want to celebrate right now
who I have become
who I was
and who I am right this very minute.
Why?
because it is easy to forget these things.
because we forget that life is too short;
I want to celebrate my life right now.
This poem is to celebrate
the now
this very instant
the essence of this second
the miracles that happen within a minute’s time
like the birth of a child
or the reviving of a life.
I want to celebrate the number of breaths
that have been programmed just for me.
We are all given a only certain number
of breaths during our lifetime.
I want to celebrate the first and the last one now.
I cannot remember the first and do not know when the last will be.
I want to celebrate
my poems
the letters that gave life to my words
the thoughts that gave life to me
and the force
that made me think about
who I am now.
I want to celebrate
today and only today
for now anyway
my life
what I celebrate tomorrow
will depend on today.
“Find the narrow gate that leads to life.” It is called the now.Narrow your life down to this moment. (Tolle, 1999)
Source: The Power of Now: A Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment by Eckhart Tolle
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