Loss (c) arlene s bice
My loss has been too many
each one still silently mourned
each one a different sorrow
each one fills their own place
in my heart, my only one heart.
photo Simone Dalmeri
Category: Memoir
Day 24 ProlificPulse Mo Po: inspired by the rhythm and movement of dance.
Dance © arlene s bice
New dances in the 50s & 60s
great to release a teen’s emotions
country dances, reels & squares
provided the same outlet
as does line dancing
foxtrot taught in school
along with an Irish Jig
the waltz, a show of elegance
ballet is a story tenderness & fire
dancing allows human expression.
Day 20 ProlificPulse Mo Po: captures a fleeting nature of happiness.
A Moment of Unexpected Happiness© arlene s bice
It was off to Framingham, Mass one day
driving her treasured Silverado, Anne and I went
while soaking up the unfamiliarity of a new town
bam! back into another pick-up truck, I bumped
ouch, at a traffic light I didn’t see coming
‘twas a small thing to do actually, no harm done
the young fellow, pleasant enough, forgiveness
we smiled, said thank you and on our way
settled into lodgings, we had work to do
pick up furniture the next day, return it
to Jersey for a friend, a favor completed
our next stop, find a tavern for lunch
oddly, open the door under the sign
steps leading up, a second-floor place?
we cautiously took step by step
what were we eerily walking into
opened the door at the top and
surprise! our handsome Irish fellow
behind the bar with his brothers too!
what chance could this happen
a reason for sure, a meaning to it
a reunion as if we were family
and we met all of his, cheerfully
drinks on the house, shared foods
a memorable event to carry away
take care of business the next morn
travel back home again, a memory
savored, never explained, just held
I miss my friend, gone so long ago
yet our adventures still live on
in words written to share with others.
Anne & me in reenactment attire Rev War in my bookshop 1997.
Day 13 ProlificPulse Mo Po: explore the relationship between humanity and nature.
photo by michael krahn
Into the Forest © arlene s bice
In childhood, my forest was a Woods
more than a copse of trees less than a forest
nestled between two developed pieces of land
a special place that I walked, later rode my bike
five blocks, climb a tree, cozy myself in a union
sometimes lucky to find no one else thereabouts
read a comic book from my back pocket
the big boys off playing chosen action games
beyond my size, age, and being a girl
ah, it planted a seed, a memory of warmth
where comfort is found in the arms of a tree
it is still there; I drive to a nearby state park
a forest much larger; I don’t climb trees anymore
but find a fallen log or stump of an old one
bring out my sketch pad or lined journal
pencil or pen in hand soaking up peace,
tranquility, restoration of self slowly comes
a ray of sunlight may filter through the trees
rustle of dry leaves and crickets are chorus
birds quiet, waiting to see what I will do
the magic of Mother Nature, still works.
Day 9 ProlificPulse Mo Po: Explore the theme of identity and self-discovery in a poem.
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.
Day 6 ProlificPulse Mo Po: feeling of falling in love through metaphor and imagery
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.
Day 5 ProlificPulse Mo Po: the concept of time and its passage
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.
Day 2 Po Mo Challenge Describe a childhood memory
Brother Bob & Me
Childhood Pictures ©arlene s bice
Dad, an amateur photographer
of curious mind to satisfy
equipment was plenty; quality
developed his own negatives
chose favorite spots
now remembered
cozy bookcase corner
backyard pale pink rosebush
front porch entry
dressed in holiday clothes
church steps next door
on ground donated by
great grandmother Rachel.
American Bandstand
Are you old enough to remember American Bandstand? Talk about a memory! I was 14 when my girlfriend Asta Fruscione’s mother drove 4 of us down to Philadelphia from Trenton (NJ) where huge warehouses filled block after block. We walked into the dark TV studio of American Bandstand with no problem. We were surprised that the spotlighted area gave only a tiny area to dance. On TV it looked really large. Bob Horn was the host at the time before Dick Clark later took over.
My mom was thrilled to see me dancing on TV!
We thought we were so clever calling in sick at Kuser School Annex (jr. high). Hah! The school secretary pulled me aside the next day. She saw us dancing away on TV like we were regular participants. She was cool and wouldn’t rat us out though. It would be our secret.
If you still have CDs (the kind you listen to, not savings) or any music still hanging around from the good old days, bring it out and take a listen. Relive your life through memory. Remember to dance in between chapters while the music is carrying you. No one is watching! Let those feet jump into the air. Whoee! Jitterbug or Watusi! Whatever your teen dance was, remember?
If you don’t know where to begin writing your story, pull out the photos that you have hiding in your drawers, under the bed and behind the couch in an album collecting dust. Just start writing.
If you aren’t clear about a memory and you ask your sibling about it, keep in mind that you may have both been involved in an event, but you have your own emotions and thoughts. Which means that if you remember a moment in a different way, it is because you looked through eyes that interpreted what you saw otherwise than your sibling. You may have reacted or remembered differently because it was different for you. Often siblings disagree on a particular memory not realizing that you were all right, just experienced the same moment differently.
Maps, a poem from Simply Put, a collection
MAPS AS PROOF-arlene s bice©
Every now and then
I’ll sit on the floor after dragging down
the pile of maps folded on my bookshelf.
These are the rainy-afternoons-do-you-remember-when-maps.
I don’t buy souvenirs
but I save my maps, some worn others not
emoting moments, some seeking a thing not found
others of finding surprises-quite-unexpected-but-joyfully-held.
Maps are my proof.
I’ve stepped out of the mold, leaving behind
my mother’s daughter; creating my own true self
becoming a-woman-who-loves-and-saves-her-maps.
And I’ll continue
to travel on roads new to me, soaking in
the atmosphere of another’s world, seeing it differently
then I will be making a deposit-in-the-bank-of-memories-for-a-rainy-day.