Writer. Educator. Artist.
Dreaming the House of Change © arlene s bice
Repeatedly, it began with my house
of early setting in
back wall completely blown away,
exposed
rooms crooked, uneven,
empty
reconstruction not working,
lopsided
a ramp leading to entrance
crumbling
weatherbeaten, life beaten
a vision of my marriage
this repetitive dream alerted me
change was coming
it did, each time.
Can it Be © arlene s bice
Along the roadsides dressed with hangings of wisteria
bunched together turning drab trees of sticks and bones
into scenes of beauty, heavy in the air is the musky scent,
it wafts in the window as I whizz by the fields, now green
never too busy am I, to ignore often passed over charm
can you possibly not feel or know the season revealed
Photo by Annie Spratt=unsplash
Albo’s Strauss Waltz© arlene s bice
‘twas a painting, a print really
in my Mediterranean dining room
hung over my stereo console
back in the early days
married, becoming an adult
a perfect union, one glance
created music in my head
dropped down to my heart
while the stereo was off
impossible to be sad, silent
added life to a dinner party
gaiety before mellowness
circled the table formally set
guests mentally share a waltz
strangers became friends.
Who Am I © arlene s bice
Born as one person
transformed into another
by experiences, by love
by people who wandered
into my life, stayed, and
those who didn’t
I am the girl who refused
to remain in the mold
crashed through barriers
painful as it was, marked
hidden scars stay hidden
only results show
a name that identifies me
changed by marriage
changed again
returned to the original
feels good, comfortable
like coming home
the true self, the girl
is not to be hidden
she is still there.
Stranger than . . . ©arlene s bice
I looked up to see him
across the crowded room
his eyes were set, baiting me
my aunt’s favorite tune
Some Enchanted Evening slid
into my mind, ran round and round
I slowly shook my head
to clear it, no help there at all
how could it be, I wondered aloud
as he crossed the room abuzz
low murmurs floating in the air
coming closer, eyes never leaving
mine until he was inches from me
glistening, burning into mine, all afire
What are you doing here, I whispered.
You are supposed to be 3,000 miles
away, I said. Not so, he huskily replied.
You are supposed to be 3,000 miles away.
And the years fell away. We were back at the beginning.
Photo by Samantha Gades on Unsplash
Photo by Farhad Ibrahimzade on Unsplash
Downsizing© arlene s bice
It’s time, trim the sails, a last move, for sure
gone, the Toulouse Lautrec dinner set for eight
no need, daily life is different from ever before
changes are made, my new life settled by fate
adore the fancy new dishes, two of each design
cooking, eating less, use only luncheon plates
adjust, make life easier, all worked out fine
it’s fun to wash this crockery, they’re so pretty
and placed on the table with a glass of wine
next to the flatware, a journal, a book so witty.
Photo by Vanessa Serpas on Unsplash
It’s been a Long Time Since © arlene s bice
The lightness of walking, feet above the ground
as musical notes flitter around in your head
like butterflies
oh, yes I remember
impossible to keep a stoid, straight expression
smiles bubble over, announcing love to the universe
without saying a word
oh, yes, I remember
like a brush to an artist creating at a blank canvas
colors, movement, joy will burst off the surface
no effort at all
oh, yes, I remember
when that ethereal feeling of being in love is new
before tarnish, before tragedies, before the world
or the families try to tear you apart
is a time to build a steadiness, a fortress that lasts
a time to bond and let no one else enter your world
oh, yes, I remember.
There was a Time ©arlene s bice
Memories take me back to yesterday
tho yesterday was 70, 80 years ago
then, there was Hay-on-Wye, familiar
the beautiful woman, satin gown, jeweled
choking me awake at 3 a m, gasping for air
brings memories 700 long-time-ago, years
who was she, why did she show such hatred
more recently, 1600s in Massachusetts
my little cottage, Native American friend
strict laws, suspicions, unlawful disaster
memories still buried deep inside my spirit
a brief life as a young woman comes to mind
love of country, full of chaos, bullies in 1775
yes, it all seems like yesterday.
Photo mxx @unsplash
Off to France © arlene s bice
To the land of the Impressionists
to walk where they stood with easels
to create a new style of exquisite art
to enjoy plein air countryside beauty
to stroll in the gardens of Monet
to share a table, wine, talk of colors
to still feel the presence of Renoir
to sit with Cassatt and Morisot’s spirits
to see them linger as I would linger
to see Degas approach, bottle in hand
to be there, outside a Parisian café
where I once appeared in a former life.
photo thanks Alexander Mils@unsplash
Dreams Made, Hearts Bade© arlene s bice
My promises to you were filled
many rivers I’ve crossed
some more than a mile, some less
follow you I have; made my own way, too
loved the world seen, now mere memories
double rainbows appeared, brilliantly
you’ve taken me around the bend
my friend, Moon River to me.