October 16, 2007 at 5:00 am (Poetry)
The sound of your deep voice
Producing smiles everywhere around you
Your laughter…
We looked up to you
Didn’t you know?
The weight of your words
Didn’t you see?
Wisdom without flaunting it
Courage dismissed
Making people feel
Appreciated
Important
Respected
Valued
All along, YOU were these things to everyone who knew you.
And still are.
Don’t you know?
In memory of Charles “Chip” Roland Leutz
October 4, 1950 – October 16, 2006
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October 7, 2007 at 11:54 am (Home Sweet Home, Jumbled Jabbering)
Trying to be romantic last night, I decided to light candles. My hunny and I were just getting snuggled up, listening to great music on CBC Radio. We’d even had a dance or two. So far so good. The lighting was too bright, so I decided to pull out the candles. Using a small lighter I found in the house (we’re house-sitting), I tipped one of the tiny jars to get to the wick. I could barely get two fingers in there to light it.
First try: no go.
Second try: no go.
But wait, something feels oddly warm and getting hotter. Yikes, my nail was on fire. Yes, you read it right, the tip of my nail had a bright flame glowing (and burning). I ran to the kitchen sink to cool it down and ended up having my very own Gothic French manicure. Black tips on blood-red nail polish.
On another note, I’m listening to the Vinyl Cafe hosted by Stuart McLean on CBC Radio, and they’re giving out awards to people who have gone beyond the call of duty to help/do something nice. In the first call, the woman had no clue who he was, which was okay. Not everybody listens to CBC. On the second call, however, the woman actually hung up on him, even though he said who was calling and from where. So, he calls again, only to have her hang up on him again. Sure keeps a person humble!
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October 6, 2007 at 2:54 am (Poetry)
Life in Colour
The colours are alive: vivid, bright, bold
My eyes look toward them and try to behold
Stretching my hand out to touch them, to feel them
I reach out with fingers, cooing and giggling.
Each has its own name: red, yellow, blue
I learn to mix them and draw pictures of you
With shapes and dots and lines and colour
I blend them together to see what I discover.
Beyond the canvas, the colours mature
The lines come alive until I am not sure
If it’s my imagination, if it’s all in my head
Or can I read a message the artist has said?
Now my eyes struggle; they squint and they strain
I try even harder, but the clouds just remain
The lines are all blurred, and the lights have been dimmed
The colours have faded………………
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