If I Could Turn Back Time

My family could probably teach a course on being late. Doctor's appointments, partys, weddings, paying bills,making costumes for the anime conventions we attend (We frequently have to drag a sewing machine with us a well as patterns, glue guns and duct tape (a costumer's best friend).)all fall prey to Murphy's Law. No matter how many lists we make, appointments that go on calenders or we use our crystal ball, life, that nefarious stealer of time. gets in the way.

I enjoy a fantasy series called Xanth, by Piers Anthony. People in this land tend to have one magic talent, big or small, that those in Mundania (our side of the reality) would die or kill for.
One person could turn back time for just a minute. That talent alone could save a lot of heartbreak, since too late is often measured in seconds.

Procrastination is the perfection of lateness. Why do something now if it can be done tomorrow?
Why do something now if tomorrow will render it all unneccesary anyway?

Well, here I am, late again. I usually post this before work on Wednesday. So for your enjoyment:

If I Could Turn Back Time.

A minute here, a minute there
Surely couldn't matter.
If I am late for a date
Of course he will wait
Though he may be mad as a hatter.

It took a little longer
Than I had planned for.
My hair would not behave.
But he was gone when I came down.
I began to rant and rave

It must have been an emergency
That kept him from my side.
I grabbed my coat and
Rushed out the door.
Too late, he was down the drive.

It seems that I have cursed myself.
No matter how I try,
Something always seems
To get in my way
And makes the minutes fly.

I checked the cake, it was almost done.
I ran for the phone and then
I talked so long the cake was black.
Oh no, I'm late again.

I had a lottery ticket
I kept forgetting to check .
It was a winner,
I should have been richer.
But it had expired, oh heck.

So many things I would change,
If I could turn back time.
But one thing I'd never do.
I'd still miss that plane,
Though it made me insane,
Because that was how I met you.

Ring, Ring

That awful sound. Or is it? The phone is something that has expanded so far from it's original design. It is a great way to bring people together or drive you mad with people (and machines) trying to sell you something, ask for donations, or take a survey ("really, it will only take a few minutes of your time") Yeah, right!!.

I'm sure it has saved many lives as well as caused some people to lose their sanity. I find myself with a love -hate relationship with it. I treasure the ability to quickly get in contact with people I know and love, and yet that ring frequently gets on my last nerve.

Let's talk about rings (or should I say ring tones). Giving each person or place it's own special ring allows you to ignore it or run for it. Answering machines can also be a heaven sent thing. If you don't like what you are hearing, you just hit that erase button. Oh what a relief that is.

In my frequent treasure hunts (aka flea markets and yards sales) I came across a very old phone book. The numbers were a combination of rings, not actual numbers. Reading it was like a trip to the past and included many rules of phone use. For instance, it was considered rude to ask the operator to look up the number for you. They are much too busy for that. You couldn't play music near the phone as this may cause people not to hear the conversation. Don't ever get caught listening in on someone elses conversation as this would be a five dollar fine (a huge amount back then) and your phone service would be suspended until it was paid. Children were never, Ever, supposed to use the phone. This was for adults only.

Anyway, as always, there has to be a poem of some sort. This is from a friend's view. I must admit, I share a lot of his feelings.

Ring, Ring

An instrument for destruction
Of my peace of mind.
I lived without it for many years
And did without it fine.
Circumstances played a hand
And it slithered into my life.
Damn thing never seems to shut up.
I might as well have a wife.
There seems to be a mental block
When it's time to pay my bill.
So many other things come first
Like books and beer and girls.
So every so often, I once again
Have peace and quiet and then
I pay the bill and my life departs
To the nether regions, my friend.

Don't even get me started on cell phones
They should all be piled and burned.
Or dig a deep hole and drop a bomb.
It's only what they deserve.
The idiots that don't understand
How rude they are to me
When they answer their phone
while I'm right here.
It was me they came to see.
It could be a way to strengthen the pool
Of genes when they take themselves out.
By talking when driving or crossing the street.
Makes me want to scream and shout.

I must admit, they have their place
For emergencies and such.
A way for people to find each other
When they've been out of touch.
It does have it's uses
But that's not saying much.

I leave you now to go to sleep
And if you call, good luck
I'm going to that wretched thing
And turn the ringer off.

A Love Story (With a Twist)

Castle. The very word conjours up visions of knights in shining armour, fair damsels waiting to be rescued, something that both protects and needs protection. A castle can be evil or good, reality or just "castles in the sky" dreams. They are frequently haunted by spirits both sad and dangerous, occasionally helpful and kind. This tale of mine will have 2 endings. Vote for your favorite.

I think that I shall never see
An edifice as elegant as thee.
Thy towers strong, built of stone.
Often on the blood and bones
Of those who dare attack thee.

A shy maiden waits for her lover's arms
To enfold her and keep her safe from harm.
Not daring to let her sire know
Of the one who waits for her below.
He's not worthy.

The daughter of the castle, fair.
Knows no else could ever compare
To the one who stole her heart away.
Who now rides forth, a dragon to slay
To win her fathers blessing.

To become a knight and win her hand,
A blazing light in this dark land.
To protect all that he holds dear,
He draws his sword and ventures near
The dragon.

His sword, a flashing whirl of steel.
He rushes, the dragon's life to steal.
A hideous roar, a flash of fire
Will not keep him from his hearts desire.
The maiden.

His victory was a hard-won thing.
The dragons head, the proof.
He raced his steed to meet the king
And the maiden on the roof.
His bride.

A happy ending to this tale,
The king doth make him knight.
And the two of them live happily
As man and wife.
Everafterward.


And now the other ending comes.
The valiant knight doth fail
To slay the beast, himself is slain.
Now all doth weep and wail.

The maiden's heart burst with pain.
To her love she runs in haste.
"You shall not leave me here" she cried.
Up the tower stairs, she raced.
"I will join thee now in death,
Life holds no joy for me"
And flung herself from the rooftop high
Her love's soul to meet.

Now the two ghostly lovers tread
The castle's hall at night.
Happy at last to be together,
Their love a blazing light.
Sweet dreams.

Once Upon A Haunting.

The moon was slightly above the horizon on a crisp Halloween night. Jeanette, Horace and Martin were gathered around the table in the old man's kitchen, glasses of champagne held high in a toast.

"To us" stated Martin, "I thought that the funeral would never end."

"Well, he was a rich old man, even if he was a mean bugger." Martin knocked back the wine and poured himself another. "I still can't believe how he treated us. Right to the end, we were more his servants than his children. He'd say jump, we'd say how high? The only ones he ever loved was Mom and that damned cat."

Nightshade sat on a chair in the corner of the room, her tail wrapped around her, her unblinking gaze burning fiercely, a low growl deep in her throat.

"Get a load of that cat" Jeanette snarled. "The way she's looking at us, you'd think she knows everything."

"Shut up, Jeanette." snapped Horace, "Even if she did know, how would she tell anyone? She can't talk and I don't know anyone who speaks cat!!!"

Nightshade stood up, hair standing on end, hissing. She then leaped and ran from the room into the parlour, stopping under the painting of the old man. She looked at it intensely, her tail twitching.

"We really should get rid of that cat." whispered Martin "Imagine, the old man left a million dollars for her care. But we have to be careful. If she dies of natural causes, the cash comes back to us. If it looks suspicious, all of that lovely money, including ours, goes to that wretched school of his."

Jeanette stood, smiling. "Well, I'm off to my Halloween party. I've got this really hot vampiress costume I can't wait to try out on my boyfriend."

Martin smirked, having seen the costume. "I have work to do on the computer. I'm going to turn more of the old man's assets into spendable cash."

Horace stretched, yawning. "I'm just going to relax in the den, enjoying some Jim Beane and planning just how I can use my new funds to the best advantage. Should make for really sweet dreams."

Later that night, as the clock struck 12, Horace stumbled his way out of the den. His vision blurred so much, he didn't see the cat standing in front of him. Nightshade didn't move from her post at the head of the stairs. Horace tripped on the cat,who dug her claws into his leg. He frantically attempted to catch himself but fell over the banister, impaling himself on the coatrack in the hall below.

"What's all this racket?" yelled Martin. "You could wake the dead with the noise you're making." He came out of his room then stood staring at his brother down below, Nightshade on the landing.

Martin frantically called 911, then went down the stairs to check his brother. He was still barely alive. "The cat," he whispered, "the cat did this." He closed his eyes and died.

Martin called Jeanette on her cell phone. "You have to get home right away!!!!" he gasped, "Horace is dead!!!!!"

"Is this some kind of a sick joke, Martin? I know it's Halloween, but really!!!"

"No joke, that damn cat killed him! Come home now!!!"

Martin hung up the phone, shaking badly, spilling the champagne as he tried to pour himself a glass. He glanced over at Nightshade, who was delicately cleaning her claws.

"You stupid cat, I'll get you for this." screeched Martin. He pulled a carving knife from the block and began to stalk Nightshade. The cat ran, keeping just out of reach, as if daring him to catch her. They went from room to room, with Nightshade finally making a break for the cat door, dashing outside.

"Oh no you don't, you are not getting away from me alive!!!!" Bursting through the door with the knife raised, he advanced toward Nightshade, who stood her ground. A car engine was heard, tires squealing loudly as Jeanette came roaring into the driveway. Nightshade raced into the path of the car. Martin was blinded to everything but the cat and followed her. Jeanette hit the breaks and cranked the wheel as hard as she could but it was too late. With a loud grinding of breaks and shriek of metal splitting, Jeanette hit her brother and plowed into the old oak tree at the side of the driveway. Nightshade sauntered over to the driver's side door and looked at Jeanette's body laying half in and half out of the door. She sniffed quickly, then turned and ran back through the door.

The neighbors stood watching as the bodies were loaded into the ambulance. They whispered to each other, saying how sad that the children had not long outlived their father.

Nightshade was once again below the old man's portrait. "Good work." said the old man to the cat. "I knew I could count on you to avenge me. Even though I realized too late that they had poisoned my whiskey, I wasn't going to let them get away with it. My school for disabled children will reap the benefits of their greed and you will be well taken care of for the rest of your life by them." Nightshade purred and groomed herself, very pleased with the final turn of events.


Once Upon A Haunting.

The cat stood still in the pale moonlight
Communing with the spirit
That haunted the framed picture,
Planning revenge with it.
Evil children, not deserving
The riches he worked so hard for.
The only thing that stood in their way
Was the cat and her paws four.
Revenge was quick, the outcome sure.
Greed, their final fate sealed.
A gruesome end, to settle a score.
The blood pooled, black and congealed.
Let this be a warning to those who think
Death is the end of all.
It may be just a matter of time
Before revenge's axe does fall.

A Time for Us

Traffic patterns, heavy, light or in between. It could be vehicles, goods, lives, love. So many choices, so little time. The traffic pattern of your life could shift with just one bump in the road or an unplanned detour. Sometimes the road splits in one or more parts, the choice is yours which way to go. I seem to be on a love kick, so for your pleasure I present.

Traffic Jam

I found myself in a traffic jam.
Life happening all around me.
Not knowing who I am.
Made so many detours
To find my heart's desires
Only to be blocked once again
Or having to put out the fires
That my rash decisions made.

I needed a place to hide away
And catch my breath but then
I saw you down that crowded road
And had to try again.
Traffic jam be damned, said I
I'm going to find a way
To bring me faster to my goal
Love's no longer a game to play.

So I took out my map and plotted my course.
My destination was your heart.
I had to be different, truly unique
No longer playing a part.
When I let who I really am
Shine out above the crowd.
No longer one of the nameless masses
I stood alone and proud.

This time you saw me,
The traffic jam split.
To you, I found my way.
Love needs to be based on who you are
Both yesterday and today
If it's going to survive all the bumps
That life throws in our way.

Replay

This one is really different. I recycle lots of things. Leather,books ,clothes, toys, ect. I love yard sales and flea markets (yup, I'm addicted) to the point where I hate to go buy things at the regular store. The price shock is enormous. It's also fun to barter to get what I need. You can even barter goods for services. I wish I could get heating oil that way. We started using the recycle program that my trash pickup provides about 6 weeks ago. I'm so glad that so much is not going into landfills. My daughter is even using cloth diapers for the baby. Now, that takes dedication.
One of my favorite crafts involves recycling leather from clothing to make my dreamcatchers. I also use beads from necklaces to bead the webs. Making memory quilts from your children's clothes is another way to recycle and enjoy something unique.

We also belong to a Star Trek club and have participated in many clean-up efforts as well as recycling cans for several charities. Planet Earth is in deep trouble and we are the only species that can truly make a difference. Go to http://www.blogactionday.org for more on global warming. For your consideration, I submit--

Take Back The Land.

Take back the land.
Heart by heart,
Hand in hand.
Take back the land.

Take back the earth.
Each square inch
Our struggle is worth.
Take back the earth.

Take back the sky
From smog and polution.
There is a solution.
Take back the sky.

Take back the water.
Each drop reclaimed
Makes us stronger.
Take back the water.

Take back the diversity
Of life all around us.
We'll be that much poorer
If it didn't surround us.

Each light that goes out,
Each spark that dies,
Reminds us that we
Must harder try
To preserve what is left,
Before it all disappears.
God's gift to mankind's
Worth our sweat and tears.

The blind man

Collection. A word that is both a noun and a verb. People collect so many things throughout their lives, from shrunken heads to toilet paper (and no, I'm not kidding,lol). A collection is taken at churches and concerts, sometimes at movies and ballgames, to help individuals and organizations.

Buttons and toys, dolls and dishes, cars and planes (some toys, some not) .Teddy bears remain a heavy favorite. I have a collection of Betty Boop items that people have gotten me. My Dad called me Betty Boops since I was about 3 years old. It's a great way for me to remember his love and support. He's been gone 20 years now, but he'll always have a place in my heart.

Some people collect hearts. Not the paper kind but the people kind. They think of hearts as notches on a belt, a proof that they are attractive and can enslave another. This is not how I feel.
A heart is to be cherished and nutured, lifted up, not down. For your consideration I present


The Heart Collector

I was heart-whole and fancy free.
Now there's a hole
Where my heart used to be.
I should have seen it coming,
Seemed too good to be true.
Someone that good looking
Who cared about me too.

Didn't mind spending money
To show me a good time.
Not a hint in his behavior
That he was the wandering kind.

But he only wanted pleasure,
A short-term affair.
His heart wasn't mine
And he left mine there.

Time to pick up the pieces
And put them back together.
Love is but a puzzle.
My missing piece is out there.

A collection of hearts,
That's all he wanted.
A flash in the night
When love's flame burns brightest
I feel sorry for him
When true love calls
He'll be so busy counting
That he'll miss it all.