Monday, December 8, 2014
Choices
I will never ever understand how people see differences and
abhor them.
I see differences and adore them;
Made me an easy bullying target.
Lots of pain.
To forgive trumps to forget.
We are not the same.
I suspect this why
Words I share trigger anger.
I see the life
The possibility not the fear.
But others do fear.
Others gets angry.
Many are sad.
I will never ever understand why with so many gifts
Humans choose the art of war.
For Crying OUTLOUD
Presumptions Assumptions
dumping on humans-
what gives you the right
what allows you the gumption
to judge but not help;
Fear, hunger, pain and
isolation's not right
the reaction's to fight;
do you understand
can you understand
desire to understand
you need to understand;
slavery happens
when respect does not.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Spiritual Social Media
Even clicking "like" is a
failure today.
Not even enough of
life to crawl into a hole.
Emerging stars chase clouds away.
Pattering rain tickles lake surface soul.
Arthritic fingers air dance circling
Beside my heart center flutters.
Dendrites, synapses firing
Lost memories with foggy shutters.
Shallow breathing might ease
Radiating sneaky demanding pain.
Saddened by what others see
My imagination images hope to regain
Mercy.
When death seems healing like
Dissipation of atomic expression,
Music becomes an air strike
Bombing attempts of sensation integration.
Lighting becoming lightning,
Sharp, piercing, washing out
Feeble prayers enticing,
Pleading about
Grace.
Emerging stars chase clouds away.
Pattering rain tickles lake surface soul.
Arthritic fingers air dance circling
Beside my heart center flutters.
Dendrites, synapses firing
Lost memories with foggy shutters.
Shallow breathing might ease
Radiating sneaky demanding pain.
Saddened by what others see
My imagination images hope to regain
Mercy.
When death seems healing like
Dissipation of atomic expression,
Music becomes an air strike
Bombing attempts of sensation integration.
Lighting becoming lightning,
Sharp, piercing, washing out
Feeble prayers enticing,
Pleading about
Grace.
 |
| Angel Action October 22 2014 |
(CarolAnn
Edscorn , MS ., Jaffrey , NH
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Awkward
Letting go
Embracing
Releasing
Including
Freeing
Hugging
Living
Sobbing
Choosing
Laughing
Letting go
Embracing
Independent
Alone
Family
Sleeping dreaming hoping
Thinking
Opposites
Similarities
Awareness
Why does the cat shed so much?
October 18, 2014
Jaffrey New Hampshire)
 |
| Patches 2007 |
Monday, October 6, 2014
Fighting Anger/Fear
How
sad to be alone;
No
it's not because
Sad
is loss without
Joy.
Joy
is everywhere
Only
needs a wisp a whisper
A
tickle of thought
A
glance at color;
How
sad to be lonely
Yes
it is because
Lonely
is loss without
Contact
Connection
Community
Communion
And
only needs a wisp a whisper
A
tickle of thought
A
dance with color
We
are made of Star
Molecules-
Joy
Energy
(CarolAnn Edscorn - Jaffrey NH - May 6, 2014)
Sensory Delighting: Living life as a Child
Hum.
Press tree bark,
finger deep green ferns;
light sparkles through leaves!
Peek out, sneak out, breathe out
and in, smelling alive
moss, sapling, pine.
Diamond white yellow light
interplay with emerald, olive, jade,
auburn, russet, dirt earth scents.
Before words,
knowing Divine Love,
blessings, hope.
Praying now to
remember
and live
as a child.
Holey Holy Wholey
Are there two of me
Inner prismatic light
Gentle wind-chiming music
Wafting inside
Real to me
Yet the Others
Perceive otherness
In me from me
Making me what
Who I am
Not
A robot, an Alien,
A calculating computer
Brilliant brain without
heart?
Singing I smile
Moving quick bouncing
Inside graceful dancing
The Others see me
Still
Frozen
Lost I am
Not
Can I meld outside
And inside?
Should I?
Maybe my colors and
Music are mine for
A Reason
Redeeming Grace
( CarolAnn Edscorn - Jaffrey, New Hampshire - October 2, 2010)
SPONTANEOUS PLANNING
Birthing children
Creating family
Destroys spontaneity
Which ironically is
Required
When one has children
Planning chaos
Chaotic planning
Spontaneous grocery shopping
Meals needing planning
What is next, next, next
Spontaneous nap
during
Planned television show
Planned basketball practice
Evolving spontaneous
Snowball fight
AH yes
(CarolAnn Edscorn - Jaffrey, New Hampshire - October 30, 2010)
Friday, October 3, 2014
Kitty Paws Pressure Changes
Little kitty, sleek soft cat,
Little paws, sharp claws
Yet purring
Pushing your face
Into my face
Demanding rubbing, scratching
Behind your ears
You climb my shoulder
You commandeer my lap
You own my computer
My book
Wee, little paws
On a wee, little kitty
Not light of foot
You thunder onto me
Nudging for love
Each paw a weight
You are here
You are present
A presence insisting
Persisting
Purring to distract me
From the intense pain
Of your wee, little paws
(CarolAnn Edscorn , MS - Jaffrey , NH - October 3, 2014)
Mud Pies
If I cried
In relationship
To all the pain
I have experienced
I would be dehydrated
The chemicals
Which comprise
My plump body
Would be a small pile
I would be dust in the breeze
The sky would commiserate
And raindrops would
Join the mound of dust
Churning what was once me
And children would make mud pies
A lovely ending
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
DELIGHT IN PLENTY
A Grocery Sonata
Grace and mercy abound
Grocery shopping
Lousy lighting
Cold air biting
Deli deal found.
Choices far too many
Price comparing
Visual wearing
Chocolate ensnaring
Hearts, or bunch, of celery?
Eggs, yogurt, butter, cheese
Guacamole
Donuts holey
Menus wholly
Gathering food to please
A shrinking crew
A need to feed
Organic creed
Preparation speed
All this just to chew?
Meandering the aisles
Collecting
Inspecting
Reflecting
On family smiles.
October 1, 2014)
Saturday, September 20, 2014
KIDS
CarolAnn Edscorn
KIDS
“Did you brush your teeth, dear?”
“MOM!”
“Well, your last check-up, dear--”
“Mom, just chill. I’ve lived long enough to know how to take
care of myself.”
“Yes, dear.” Quiet. “Did you
remember to use--”
“Deodorant? Yes. And I have on
clean underwear.” Slender and pale, Kyren popped out of her bedroom. Shimmering
auburn waves framed an elfin face. “Mom, I even have on matching socks AND
shoes, and a seasonably warm yet stylish wool coat purchased ON SALE," Kyren
smiled, “at SAKS. I am on my way to
work, Mom. Remember?”
Kyren’s dancing sky blue eyes
connected with her mother’s deep ocean blue ones. Italian driving mocs tread
softly across the polished parquet maple.
Mom
looks so small, Kyren noticed. Her mom looked frail, snuggled on the
rocker, a soft pink blanket tucked around her. Kyren bent down to kiss her good
bye. Delicate fingers reached up to caress her face.
“Love you, Kyren.”
“Love you, Mom.”
They rocked together for a few
moments. “Gotta run, Mom.”
She heard a soft sigh.
“Is your brother up? Is your little
sister moving?”
“Mom.”
“Sorry.”
Kyren gave a quick peck on Mom’s
cheek, picked up her Armani suede hand bag, and strode to the entry. “I’ll
check on Linnis. Bye, Mom!”
“Bye, dear,” came quietly from the
rocker.
Her sister’s bedroom was still in
shadow. Kyren sighed. The room looked like Filene’s Basement Store after a
clearance sale—an angora sweater draped a chair, five (or six?) designer jeans
were strewn about the floor. There were hats, scarves and shoes tossed about.
And the lumpy goose down comforter was a sure indication of Linnis’ whereabouts.
“Linnis! Move! You’re late again!
You’ll be late for your own funeral!”
“I can live with that,” came the
muffled response. Kyren’s response was cut short by the radio alarm.
“KISS 108, Boston ’s number one rock-"
A hand shot out of the covers and
smashed the clock to the floor.
“Linnis.”
“What?”
“Linnis!”
“What?”
“I’ve got to go. Love you.”
“Mutual.”
Kyren smiled, shrugged into her
tailored camel overcoat, and started out the door. She paused and gazed back.
“Evad! I’m going! Remember to pick
up the dry cleaning. Love you!”
A tall figure loomed at the end of
the hall. Kyren’s features clearly came from her mother—Irish, fair and sunny.
Evad had his father’s Mediterranean dark looks. He had his Palm Pilot™ in hand,
keying the touch pad.
“Dry cleaning. Got it. Love you.
Have a great day. Linnis up yet?”
“Hey, she’s lived long enough to
know about consequences. See you.”
“Ciao.” Evad wore a creamy, 310 thread count Egyptian cotton shirt and tan slacks. Not as tailored as his sister, as he
loved softer casual clothing.
“Evad, is that you?”
“Yes, Mom—and my teeth are brushed,
hair is combed, clothing pressed and tummy full.”
“My darling boy.”
His mother’s condescension didn't
bother him, even though he was an adult. Especially since his father died, he
understood his Mom’s need to, well, mother.
“Evad, is Linnis up?”
The sound of running water echoed
down the hall.
“Yep.” He heard his mother sigh. He
crossed to the rocker. His height only made his mom look smaller. He bent over
and hugged her. “I might be a little late for dinner.”
“Oh, Evad…”
“I have a new client and the floor
plans and fabric swatches are pulled together. I need to locate some
furnishings to round out the project.”
“I am so proud of you, son. It only
your father—“
“Mom, enough. Don’t go maudlin on
me! It’s so easy for me to catch your emotions. I have to be focused today!”
“Yes, Evad,” she brightened. “I
love the beard, dear.”
“Doesn't make me look too young?”
“No, dear. You look debonair.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re awesome.”
“Have a great day!”
“You too, Mom. Love you, bye.”
“Did you brush—“
“Yes, Mom. BYE!”
“Bye, son.”
The mother heard the front door
latch close, heard the shower shut off, heard Linnis humming, the street
traffic from below. Memories filtered through the sunbeams playing in the
motes, danced through her mind and heart. From her perch on the rocker she
could see the family photographs—her ‘rogue gallery’—and vacation souvenirs and
school awards.
Her favorite mementos were set on
the mantle, encased in crystal domes, one for each birth.
Linnis bounced into the parlor,
towel drying her hair. Her 40 pound back pack thumped the floor.
“All in black, dear? Oh, Linnis.
Those baggy jeans—are there enough chains hanging on them?”
“Match the ones on my neck, Momsy.”
“Black lipstick? My dear, the
eyeliner—why, you have too much kohl on. And your finger nails! Oh, dear.”
“Only young once, Mom.”
“I know.”
Linnes saw little shimmers in her
mother’s eyes. “Mom don’t, Mom, no crying—Mom!”
“I just keep thinking that if your
father was still alive…”
“Mom, it’s just a color,” Linnis
knelt by the small figure and wrapped her thin arms about her mom.
“Hey, hey now, I’m okay, dear.”
Linnis hugged tighter, willing the
tears away. The sniffles stopped.
“Linnis! You’re thinner!”
“Lost some weight.”
“Not again, dear.”
“Happens, Momsy. It’s just weight.”
“Oh my darling—each of my
darlings—each birth so different, each child so unique…you've always had a
flair for the dramatic, my Linnis.”
“I know, Momsy. Hey, I've got to catch
the bus. Would you like apple or orange juice before I go?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll get you prune juice!”
“No! Soy milk, vanilla.”
Linnis danced into the kitchen,
filled a bottle with soy milk, and warmed it. Watching her mom age was tough.
She was so small, so fragile, so dependent! Her father’s passing, while
expected, had been heart wrenching. She pranced back into the parlor, the
bottle of warmed soy milk held high like a banner. She scooped up her mother,
pink blanket and all, and waltzed about the living room.
“Linnis! Linnis! Put me down! Oh,
my gosh! Linnis! Stop!”
Spinning, gliding and hopping,
Linnis hugged her mother close to her heart.
“Linnis! I’ll spit up!”
That stopped the twirling.
“Um. Spit up on black is not good.”
Mother and daughter gazed at one another.
“You’re a good egg, dear. Now put
me down.”
“In the rocker?”
“No dear, I need to lie down.”
Linnis lovingly carried her mother,
swaddled in pink fleece, to the old Jenny Lind in a shadowed corner of the
room.
“Nannie will be here any moment.
You’d best run, Linnis love. Don’t miss the bus.”
Linnis laid her mother down gently,
handed her the bottle, placed the silver rattle (a precious and comforting
remembrance) within her reach. She leaned down to kiss the cherubic cheek.
“Momsy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Well, Evad is so old, he is so
involved in his responsibilities, being the last born…”
“Yes, princess?”
“And Kyren has begun, y’know, the
change of life. But she still has years left. But, Mom…”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Does it hurt Are you comfortable,
Mom?”
Her mother’s gaze wandered to the
mantle piece.
“No, Linnis, it doesn't hurt. The
only discomforts are gas and a soiled nappie, and that’s mostly embarrassing.”
Honesty brings quietude.
“You miss Daddy?”
“Yes.”
They were silent then, the first
born daughter and her mother.
“Better run now, princess.”
“Yeah. Love you Momsy.”
“Love you, Linnsy.”
Linnis dashed to the entry way,
snatching up her back pack. She paused at the open door and gazed back at her
mother.
Her mother was looking at the three
mementos of the births of her children, each born as adults. Her youngest,
Evad, had come in a shell of slate blue. Her middling, soft but self-assured,
had stepped out of an opalescent egg of azure and pink. And her first born, her
forthright adventuress, had literally danced out of a canary yellow shell.
Good memories. Good adults.
“Momsy?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Is it scary? Growing young?”
“Not when you have a wonderful
family, Linnis.”
Nannie had just come down the hall
from the elevator, so Linnis quietly walked away. Nannie closed the door softly
and tip toed to where mother slept.
“Oh, you precious thing,” she
whispered.
Mother’s eyes were closed, a drop
of soy milk glistened on her lips. The bottle had rolled out of her little
hand, but the other fingers had a firm grip on the silver rattle. Nannie picked
up the baby bottle, tucked the blanket around her, and tenderly stroked the
curly wisps of auburn hair.
“Sure and ‘tis true, what folk
say,” she murmured. "Babies are sure close to Heaven.”
END
CarolAnn Edscorn
January 01, 2004 – Original
September 19, 2014 - transcribed
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Earnest Pleading
 |
| December 2013 Celebrating 32 years |
Ideas circling mind my mind
Words looping creating manifesting
Chemical reactions affecting
Heart rate, sweat perspiring rivulets
Along responsive, susceptible skin nerves
Ending in tickling, tingling agony
Words looping into images striving
Competing for cognitive attention
For action, for plans, for plans which fail
Because people leave, interfere, push, shove
Because people leave, snort, hide, run
Because people are people plans fail and then
And then
And then
Please don’t die please stay nearby
Thoughts eddy triggering emotions
Confusion destroys plans directs options
Ally needed, hearing needed, seeing needed
You are needed
Not easy to admit not easy to understand
Not easy
It is not easy
But you are love
And so
And so
Being abandoned no longer matters or frightens
Except for one thing one future getting old so
Please don’t die
Please
Please stay nearby
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Spontaneous Planning (October 30 2010)
Birthing children
Creating Family
Destroys
spontaneity
Which ironically
Is
Required
When one has
children
Planning chaos
Chaotic planning
Spontaneous
grocery shopping
Meals needing
planning
What is next,
next, next
Spontaneous
napping
During
Planned television
show
Planned basketball
challenge
Evolving
spontaneous
Snowball fights
Ah, yes!
Friday, August 15, 2014
Findings (11 5 2010)
 |
| Venice Canal |
I had a dream. It was
stolen, painted in a time warp by Titian, lost by the Medici’s, hung in The
Hague, pilfered by Hitler, then rescued by my guardian angel and discovered in
an attic in Harlem. The eager youthful artist captured a series of digital
prints and posted them on YouTube, and I found my dream again.
But I dreamt it
in color, and now it was in gray tones.
 |
| Venice Canal |
Friendships Are Born of Light (February 18, 2011)
 |
| 1954 |
Once upon a time, there was a little girl whose hair had a little curl, and whose feet loved a little twirl. Spinning joyfully in sun sparkle splendor she brought into her heart and mind the fluttery whiteness of cloud and the whispery wonder of breeze. Sprawling on the grass she felt the earth spinning too, and it was good and right, to spin together with the ground and the sky.
Always seeking lightness and brightness to match the star shine in her imagination, she gazed through gauze window curtains, peeked through fire reflective maple leaves, and played piano music on the pond water which made ripples of delight for hours.
She had no idea that others did not synchronize their movement with the spinning planet around her. She did not realize that others did not dance with the breeze playing music with the oak leaves. She thought everyone knew about this type of love.
She was wrong.
After five decades mourning her loss of dance and her touching the moon beams, she keens a song of loss, howling quietly at the full moon. Then one day, her child joins her and they howl together, louder, at peace with expressing their heartache without words. Later day, a friend joins her and howls at the full moon, the white brightness casting artful shadows on her friend’s face, making new patterns of lace and loveliness there.
It was a miracle, a re-birth.
How many rainbow souls howl alone at the moon? Can we connect by riding the teasing happy wind? Can we grasp sunbeams breaking through cloud fluff and like a helium balloon lost from the grip of a child at a parade find one another in sparkies?
I am joyful, body singing lightness breath and companionship. The light shining through tree leaves is the same as the light shining through hearts, radiating from eyes, leaping galaxies from stars.
I have friends. This I know. This I trust.
Wiggle. Spin. Flap. Leap. Sing. Breathe in, out, close eyes and see the light is inside me.
It’s been there all along.
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