Barbara's Meanderings

I couldn't choose so I posted all the pictures I liked. These are my New Year cards to you!!!!!

I won't say this summer has been fun, because it hasn't. But at least my husband is better.:) We are all trying to get back to normal, but things keep getting in the way. I had to have a cataract operation in August and I'm still taking care of that eye. But guess what? I have to have the other eye done now in October. It's funny having 20/20 vision in only one eye, but soon it will the same for both and I'll be back to before 7th grade. That's when they decided I needed to wear glasses to see far. Only now all I'll need is reading glasses. Not wearing glasses all the time is going to be different for me.:) People will have to get used to seeing me without them too!

So Rosh Hashanah came very early this year. It crept up on me and suddenly it's the New Year! It's another chance to start anew. It's a chance to atone for my sins, but seriously, I've been trying to think of anything that I've done that I might atone for and with this last year I can't. I know that some of my family won't think that. I'm sure they have things they hold against me, but this year I have gone out of my way to make sure people were happy. Yet they never are! So next week when Yom Kippur happens I'll once again fast and hope that it will all be okay.:)

For everyone who celebrates, a Happy Rosh Hashanah -- Shana Tova!!

I was going to put my review of a new children's MG here, but since I haven't posted in awhile I'm going to do another post right after this with the review. Instead, I'm going to post the poems I have done since the last time I posted:

Poems Posted on Poetic Asides with Robert Brewer

DECIDING ON DINNER

“What do you want for dinner?” I ask.
“I’m busy you choose,” one of them answers
I don’t want to choose.I’d rather be writing
my fingers tapping on the keys
My mind occupied with thoughts
no one there will want to hear
Instead I ask again to the air
“Should we have chicken?”
Then I think, too much to do
Raw chicken to marinate or

roast or fry and hours away from
my writing, and I decide no never mind

It doesn’t matter since it has sat on the
air like a giant empty balloon deflating
as I speak. No one is listening and I’d
rather be writing to this week’s prompt
So sad I am away from my computer and
in the middle of these uncaring people

with whom I must share my life

“What does anyone want for dinner?”
The silence spreads like a fungus
They are busy discussing the latest
political news and ignoring me
Until one of them glances over and says

“What did you say?”

I seethe invisibly and try once more
“As I was saying…”
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu

HAIKU
As I was saying
You don’t know the me inside
Only the outside
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


Strolling down PA Street

My heart is breaking as I stroll through the offerings
Hearts on sale today
along with love here and not here
Party bores and walks through stores
Conversations on dead ears

As I was saying, PA street abounds with joy

Infused by the heady words of each poet
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


Wednesday, August 20, 2010

Prompt: Write a poem about service of any kind

This is not their first rodeo
I can tell by the casual way they all stroll around
Green suited they meander in
chit chatting with the nurses
who at intervals disappear to ministerto the supine bodies in wait for the doctors’
services – not all for eyes

My nurse, Tracey shows me to my cubicle
And unable to read or watch TV I listen and
wonder at the casual talking outside my curtain
as they drip drops and gel into my eye
and the ballet continues with each new bed
moving toward the opening doors

The prologue proceeds until my eye

filled with pupil-opening drops and numb
finally opens to the doctor who places more gel
inside and then it is curtain time

I’m on stage and my door is open
They lay me on a soft sculptured bed
and place me under a sheet leaving
only my eye exposed
I am a Cyclops bound to the table
Floating in an oxygen haze as I concentrate on
the light and behold a kaleidoscopeof color

bouncing in the air above my eye
Until finally the curtain lowers and the finale
As they walk me back to my cubicle they

are lining up more who must follow the
steps to the eye scraping ballet.

copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


Poem #2

In Service to Us

The exodus began in secret
As if we could slink away

in the dark of dawn and
somehow heal the wounds

caused by our service

For citizens we said we came
To change their lives
Mold them into more
manageable shapes
more like us
Make them push away

their heritages and embrace
Americanism

We believed it would work
Through the the bloody
attack-filled years when

men and women sent
In the name of service to
liberty ate sand and sweltered
under a mid-eastern sun
Some came home damaged
Too many in flag draped caskets
returned to tear-filled eyes they
would never see. to half-grown kids,
to wives holding babies never to be
held by them

They had gone in service to their
country - bright eyed boys and girls
filled with patriotic zeal
Some against the war yet bound
by honor to serve to find the enemy
no matter the enemy kept changing
like a giant shell game

Now they returned sliding through
Kuwait's border. We saw the last
convoy still armed, roll to safety
and begin the long journey back
to where roads didn't hold IED's
in wait to destroy their friends
and cause them to shudder at each noise
Back to malls and the warm arms of
family
Back to the ease of Monday night football
and Saturday afternoon baseball

Back to barbecues and days around the pool
Back to the freedom they thought they were saving
fueled by the false fear of a political agenda
that pushed our best into the hot sands of Iraq.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu



August 27, 2010
Prompt: Use Whatever in the title and write poem about that


Whatever Happens will Happen

When I send it out there will be no fanfare
For it is an everyday thing to send an email
No matter the email has my life attached to it.
Whatever happens will happen
The story attached to the email has been

pulled from my mind in creative turmoil
Smoothed into existence and fine tuned
like a girl on her first date

But this girl’s been around
and knows the score
If you reject her she won’t lay down
like a defeated dog
Instead she will rise up and shine
after polishing and revision
rid her of the snags they found
But maybe they will hold hands
with her and savor the joy
oozed into each word as it
poured from my mind

Whatever happens will happen.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu

Whatever…

A man rants false prophecies
while Lincoln’s statue looms over him
A reminder of real freedom
and the bravery of a one who walked
into danger and laid the path for others
And a man who walked upon it and found

himself on the steps next to Lincoln
The rightful place for MLK
a real prophet with a real dream

And fifty years later a bloated blowhard spouts lies
as his followers follow him like he were the
Messiah and listen as if his words were honey
But he spouts ribbons of hate

that leap into the crowd and bind
them, for in their minds they are patriots
They are fighting for their freedom

Knowing they had lived the dream all their
lives and now refused to accept MLK’s
dream had come to fruition.

And across town at the site consecrated by
the deeds of MLK were the ones who
had stood as guides as so many walked

the path to the dream
Celebrating the joy, the life, the awe of the
journey and the goodness of the man
as their speeches spread through the crowd
reminding all that hope was still alive

When freedom is attacked we must fight back

With truth and justice against the ribbons of hate
that wish only to twist the truth for their own ends
Spewed by false dreamers who wish to move the
country back to where some were separate but equal
and the color of skin mattered
As they twist the ribbons in their mind they vow to do
whatever it takes to get back that supremacy
While the ones who march for MLK’s dream

take a breath and say, “Whatever it takes”
And MLK wishes he were there standing next
to Lincoln and spreading the joy of hope.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu

WHATEVER WILL BE WILL BE (for my husband on our anniversary)

We have traveled a long road together
since we pledged our love all those
years ago when we saw the future as
a green grass meadow we would skip
across to find our own version of Oz
Events haven’t gone our way
though your strong arms have been
there to soften those blows
When life imploded

your arms encircled me as if they
were breathing life into the husk of
my empty shell

I, the lion and you the bull, an unlikely pair
Tied together by a simple gold band
circling our fingers – the symbol of the

journey begun so many years ago when
you dropped to one knee on the horsepath
in Central Park and asked me to be with you
forever

Through too many moves and the joy of our daughters
Through times when I held your hand and prayed
so hard I thought the heavens would shake from
the effort. and I missed your arms around me
when I cried into my pillow still praying that you

would be spared as you lay there your heart healing,
incommunicado.

Resilient as a rubber band you have bounced back
time and again when life gave you sinkers
you hit them away like a baseball
All Star. And you were here tonight to celebrate our
life together though months before we thought
you had aged twenty years. Now you are back to

me though not the same I will still love you
For you were the boy who crept into my life when I
least expected and stole my heart and I gave it to you
as our future stretched ahead not knowing but
believing whatever will be will be.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu

September 1, 2010

Prompt: Write: I’m going to set the world on fire


I’m shedding my good girl exterior
and donning my new virtual leather bustier

and studded collar to kick the ass of anyone
who keeps me from my dream

There’s no stopping me as I climb to the top
and light the match of joy
for all who wish to come with me
and follow the dream I seek
We will get on our virtual cycles
and tear up the internet with our
brand of truth and poetic justice
the flagbearers of freedom
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


Come with Us (For Marie)

Come with us, Marie
Let your hair fly
as you ride your own
virtual cycle in your own path
Dream your own dreams
And fly over your own words
For we are together
a company of poets
whose lives create

images we must inscribe
From fireflies to lover’s passion
they flow liquid onto the screen

There for anyone to see
Our hearts and minds bared
nude to the world and at times
scraped bare as if the words have
seared off our flesh and exposed
the innermost layer of mottled skin

You are us and we are you
We write in free verse and haiku

We praise birds and trees, old lovers
and speak of events around us
They are our meat and we chew on
the muscle and gristle only to spit
it out in our own ways

We are poets
Flaming through each piece
with our own versions of passion and glee
Hoping to bring forth the words that
constantly swirl in our brains as we

watch this world and marvel at the joys
as we suffer from the sorrows.

We place our virtual arms around each other
For we are all the same
Our voices find the music so many ignore
in the darkness and the light
in the beauty and the trash
We live with a fire only we can understand

We are poets and that is enough
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


DON’T REMIND ME OF FIRE

One night fire found me
Its constant companions smoke and chaos
surrounded me while it flamed
out of control poking out of windows
pushing into corners
Always moving
Climbing stairs and rolling over
bodies entwined in love

Fire doesn’t think
It places itself wherever there’s fuel
Licking the edges of elegant mansions
Or the sad cardboard lodging of the homeless
It’s the great measure of equality

And though I hid my eyes to stop the
scene in my mind the fire raged on

Blackening the outside as it destroyed
the inside in its mad mindless quest
Leaving in its wake the charred, burnt smelling wreck

Extinguished by the power of the hoses
it can be pushed into submission
But like a recalcitrant child its deeds survive
Though you may punish it and spray it out of existence
its pushy presence remains for days

Reminding one of the horror of its destructiveness.

Don’t remind me of fire.

One thing I wanted to say was that one of these poems here fueled a political debate on the website. Some people decided that there was no reason to talk about war when the war is basically over. They thought that the poems were too political and decided to leave the poetry board on which I post. To this board's credit the discussion was very balanced and eventually we got back to writing poetry. Since this prompt on Fire caused some of my old feelings to stir it was very difficult for me. However, I don't think that praising soldiers is political. Also the poem that caused the furor, the one about MLK was only my take on a series of events on one day. My feeling is poets write their own feelings and that is why you can't judge poetry except on its own merit. If it makes you feel anything then it's good.:) So when people started arguing over my work I had mixed feelings. My first thought is always to make people happy. That's what I did. Therefore you see the poem about writing poetry. The other one is a poem in answerto the person who didn't like the idea of political poetry. So now you can go back and reread them and see them in a new way.:)

Look for my review of Nature Girl by Jane Kelley on the next blog. Jane is going to be my guest along with Sandro Isaack, the author of Stork MIA on Red River Writers Live Tales from the Pages on Thursday, September 24th at 3PM Central Time. She will also be a guest author on this blog soon. (Just click on the Blog Talk Radio icon on the sidebar and you will get there.)

Until the next time thank you to the new people who have visited and decided to follow this blog. Of course, thank you to my loyal readers.:) Sorry I haven't posted as much, but health issues related to my eyes have kept me very busy.:) I have a question for all of you.

What would cause you to feel that someone went beyond the limit in poetry? Would you be able to read a political poem that is not your point of view? How many of you are offended by any of the poems I posted here? Please leave a comment for me. I am really interested in knowing what you think for the future.:)

So next Monday is my cataract operation and I had my pre-op exam yesterday. But unfortunately, though everything is fine and the exam went well, I did a stupid thing. This was so stupid that it actually might top the list of stupid things I have done in my life. In fact, it was kind of elaborate involving my doctor with her hands, in gloves, in the paper garbage looking for my key. Yes, I thought I had lost my keys in the exam room or the lab room where I went to get my blood done and an EKG. So I went down to the lab and there was also someone there who went into the garbage for me. The compassion of the people in Mt. Kisco Medical Group gave me fresh hope for mankind. However, no one found my keys and I feared that they were lost. So my daughter and I drove home very dejected. When I got home I checked and they weren't there. But eventually I found them and they were in a place too embarrassing to say here. No, it wasn't an embarrassing place, but after everyone had looked all over for the keys I feel ridiculous saying where I did find them. I told Mt. Kisco Medical Group that I found them in between the car seat and the door when I called them this morning to let them know that I had found my keys.:) I'm not saying anymore.

Enough about my life!! My husband is going up to Boston tomorrow to see a specialist in Massachusetts General. I'm hoping they might be able to get him off the prednisone so we all can stop feeling like we are in boot camp.:) He continues to improve each day and is working out and very focused. It's like a little miracle and I'm also knocking on wood a lot.

Breathless Press, Calgary, Alberta

Copyright 2010 by Janie Franz

ISBN: 978-1-926771-56-4

Now to the real reason I am posting. I just finished reading The Wayfarer's Road by Janie Franz and had to write this review immediately. With this second book we revisit Jan-nell while she is traveling. From the first moment Jan-nell, the bowdancer from The Bowdancer, comes into the tavern with the interchange between her and the tavern owner I was hooked. She has a precocious three year old child, Mira-nell, with her. This is her daughter from the union of Jan-nell and the man who had swept her off her feet in her village and tempted her to leave her life as a healer and a bowdancer. When Khrin, another traveler, who is also a ballad singer, comes to her aid, she must decide what to do. Should she travel with him along The Wayfarer's Road or brave the trip alone with her young daughter? When Jan-nell decides to throw her lot in with Khrin she wonders how they will fare.

Though this is a short novel it is packed with adventure, suspense, and even romance. Janie Franz has created a society that could be anywhere and any time in a society before technology. She delineates the character of her main characters, digging deep into their own pasts to give us a true picture of each person. Away from her village, Jan-nell is a different person and I enjoyed meeting this new one who is a mother and must scrounge for food at times. She is feisty, but she can take care of herself too.

What I liked most about this book is the relationship between Jan-nell and Khrin. As they gradually become friendlier and friendlier the two of them get into giant scrapes, but as they travel The Wayfarer's Road they get closer and closer to their own goals. And as the story unfolds there is no way to know what the ending will be. I just enjoyed traveling the road with Jan-nell, Khrin, and Mira-nell. After reading this I feel like I truly know these people. With a straightforward yet slightly old fashioned way of writing and vocabulary, this book speeds along in the world that Janie Franz has created in The Bowdancer Saga. If you are looking for a way to escape from the modern world where you are constantly connected, reading The Wayfarer's Road will bring you to a time when traveling was fraught with danger and communication required face to face interaction.

For anyone who did not visit when Janie was the guest author here you can go to the blog post, Welcome Guest Author Janie Franz to learn more about her.

Thank you to all my new readers and to all the people who continue to read my meanderings. There is a lot of talk these days about the reaction people have to the internet. There is some study from China that talks about the internet causing depression in people. On the contrary the internet and knowing that people will read my words keeps me sane!!!:) I am constantly meeting new people who knock my socks off.:) And I can share my poetry as well.

Here are the poems from last week and this week from Poetic Asides by Robert Brewer:

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Prompt: Write about the cold

Cold and I

The scene outside with gentle snowflakes
mounding outside my window created
exuberance to slide on the snow and
run and jump, make snowballs
And I would fly outside bundled to
the neck in snowsuit, hat, scarf, mittens
Eager for the joy of playing in the soft flakes
until cold visited with its biting presence
And my fingers numb and frozen forced me
back inside and my dad almost always
was there to warm them as my mittens dried
on the store’s radiator. Except that one night
when he sent me home and mom and he
made me go to bed without supper for interrupting
his sales.

It was spaghetti and meatballs my favorite until then.
Outside my room I heard them chewing it and the
aroma slipped under the door. I never ate it again
At the mere mention of the food bile rose in my throat
So I shunned it for years angry at my parents
Never realizing that cold was the real culprit here.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


Icy Stares

In the hallways I shivered from the cold stares
of the popular girls whose cheerleader knees
and cardigan wearing boyfriends sat behind a
wall of ice for me
As I maneuvered through the frigid corridors
bore the icicle stares in class at my too short
poodle cut hair and wider hips clad in plaid
pleated skirts while they languidly strolled the
halls in a warm glow surrounded by their
ever present followers.

The ice solidified and formed a glacier on which I rode like a
stranded polar bear on the edges of the ice floe
And in my head I dreamed of the ice melting and the walls
collapsing as we did the unthinkable and became friends.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Shop till you drop

Your feet are burning from hours
of marching around the internal playground
for grownups known as the mall
Yet you continue searching for the perfect dress.
You've been in every dressing room trying on

anything in what you think is your size,

but even though you have squeezed into some

that made your body look like two sacks of potatoes
the perfect dress alludes you
Dressing back into your own clothes you leave the dressing room
slack jawed eyes dulled, but suddenly an ethereal light shines -

for you have spotted it
Angelic choruses burst into hallelujah
as you speed toward the rack
eyes on the prize arriving seconds later
to check the tag. Finding to your horror it is the wrong size
and you crumple to the floor in horror.
You have shopped till you dropped!
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu


Shopping on the Sidewalk

The three year old boy ran his tiny hand over the
rough concrete squares of the sidewalk
pinching his index finger and thumb together to pick up a
small speck, moving to the crack where another prize lay
wedged into it. A white tube of paper thrown there by

a thoughtless pedestrian after he or she had sucked

the poison out leaving a stub waiting for the eager

innocent fingers of
a child to find and maybe bring the prize to his lips.

At that moment his father, who had been staring ahead,

barely listening to his daughter at his side ask,

“Do I have a necklace at your house?” saw the scene

and picked up his son.

Dwarfing the boy’s hand the father opened his palm

for the treasure. Held in the grip of his son’s fingers

it fell silently as time stilled And as finally it landed,

a miniscule piece of a flower petal, I looked on the

sidewalk seeing for the first time a rosebud and petals

strewn here and there. The boy trampled over the bud.

His shopping was done.

Listening to the girl’s question I knew why the father’s eyes

sat lackluster in his pallid face as he stood in line to buy Dairy Queen

why the man stared ahead ignoring the two cherubs at his side

and why when he finally got up to the counter they carried cones

with scoops larger than their heads.
copyright 2010 by Barbara Ehrentreu

Enjoy the rest of the summer. Come listen to Janie Franz on my show, Thursday, August 27th at 3PM Central time, Red River Writers Live Tales from the Pages. Also on that show are Jill Helene Fettner, who has a story published in the anthology, Chicken Soup for the Preteen Soul. It should be another great show!!!