July 14th, A Time To Reflect

I posted this poem I had written for my fourteen year old daughter who passed...yes, NINE years ago...already? When we begin to walk hand in hand again with time, and then it is behind us...we can hardly believe we have lost anything, but I will always love and remember...Anelisa Diane Dillion...a beautiful soul...

...she will pull away and cry out
"my baby, my baby, is gone"

days, hours, months, a year go by
the pain lessens, worsens... dissipates
the journey has only begun...

Memories flood the mind, words occupy
others have shared come back in pieces
sad stories on the news become water over fingers
until the heart repairs... for now...

A Mother’s Heart Speaks Volumes

Early morning hours bring
my daughter; again
to my bedside
complaining of sleeplessness

Her heart
once again
S H O U T I N G discomfort

Hours of her
in my bed, crying
tossing in, tossing out the racing moments

I am naked, helpless
her fragile body
begging me to make it stop
I offer prayer; soft arms
a tangible mom against the shadow

Fourteen this woman child
more beautiful than could hope to be
She-my youth incarnate-
my blissful fantasies

how can her diseased heat
escape its chamber,
beating on its walls
S H O U T I N G…

Tears collapse onto her shoulders
before sleep can steal a soft reprieve

Moments, months, hope, now fear…
I do not see her older
I will not share her first kiss
I will never hold my grandchildren
I will only share what she has told me-in company with that secret smile

Her laugh now stilled
is heard by all that knew her
Her pain opened my eyes
set flight to my selfish anxiety

Early morning hours deliver
Ane’s memory to my bedside
Now my weary heart escapes its chamber,
beating on its walls
S H O U T I N G …for all that it misses

-E Stelling, 2002

So Sweet

are the arms of one who holds things lightly, bringing me joy and rushes of cool breeze through my spirit; that awakens my youthful . Shooting light through my inner heart, and colors the room with hues of red. The color that shows us the way down this path. Illuminating love to all who intercept.

I love you Robert John Stelling. Perfectly. Completely. Riddled with flaws, but unseen by the human eyes. Patterns that make us who we are, and what we love about ourselves.

Thank you for eleven and a half years of wonderful...

You are my poetry
you are my friend
you are human
you do not pretend...

The Devils Angel...

This is a collaborative piece of my poetry, artwork, but Donna Kay's legs. All rights reserved by author/artist, E Stelling 2009. Be advised that if caught stealing any works off of this site or otherwise you will be prosecuted or end up on one of my recipes...

I am, and always will be...Mom

Grand Memories

The room was silent except for shadows of a dusty piano sitting near a window in the formal hall. The world outside was clueless at what lay behind over grown towering bushes, chestnut trees, part of the over crowded landscape of our Monument Gardens.

‘Baby’, as we called my daughters’ favorite grand and expensive toy, was still waiting for her fingers to breathe life back into its frame; its long sleek legs mixed with morning half light stretched across the floor each day like arms beckoning me to find its mistress. She had gone; never to return.

I could not bear to touch the cold wood, nor its ivory keys. To leave my prints where hers still lie was unthinkable. Their music still haunts this house, and every room you may enter. Sheets of paper sitting upon the stand; musical notes, compositions; pieces half finished; music that would bring tears to my still aching heart. The sounds we loved once; that brought life to now silent rooms have become so still.

Now and then knocks at the door suggest I was expected to give up these moments, and return to what continued on in their worlds. Not even the slightest tugs from strangers could take this almost lifeless body away from the grand past, walks in the garden, tea in the afternoon, balls lasting until morning light, and her smiles.

© E Stelling, 5/2009

Mothers & Music

Dreams awaken shadowy rooms, half light door ways, echos of laughter, and running feet. Fingers pelting out one note tunes that make ears scream in pain. Yellowed ivory becomes worthless pain. I longed to hear the music that would bring tears to my eyes. I longed to watch her favorite movies, to look into her loves face, and remember how loud her heart beat for this boy that still lives his life now as a man. Dreams awaken a mother who lived without music, and in her pain. Things remain...

© E Stelling, 5/2009

The Red Dashboard

Walking the cold streets of midnight to escape my feelings is not my cup of tea. I hate the cold. I hate the darkness. My feet pound the sidewalk, as these six inch heels I am wearing seem to tap out Morse code. Signals that I am getting closer to doing what I have wanted to do most of my life. Not sure of whom I am trying to warn. Each breathe I take sends out another kind of signal, as his cologne is brought back into my nostrils. Love, lust, the hatred tainted with memories of his presence.

God, how I wanted him gone from my life, and I would almost do anything. I pull my overcoat in tight around my neck, as chills run up and down my back. Could he be lurking around corners, and in the city's dark doorways? Paranoia has me walking even faster. A danger was present. Am I taking the wrong step towards disaster? I had a goal. The goal was to see this thing through. My car was not that far now, and I would be entering its warmth; it was the kind of warmth that would still sting with its chill, but would be a protection from the night.

Walking down late night streets was not something I like to do, but had become a way of life. I began to hear footsteps behind me. Could it be him, or her, his mistress? That bitch that would not leave me alone; his weapon he now used against me. Drinks with friends had reassured me that I was in no danger, but they did not understand how obsessed he had become. He wanted me, but yet he would not let go of her. The cold is getting to me, I thought. A light mist was coming towards me just ahead. Only moments, and I would safe.

The footsteps behind me grew louder. My heels only tapped louder as I began to run, fumbling with my keys, and then I saw the blue Mercedes. I can make it; it was just a few more feet. I get the alarm key ready just in case, but there is no need as I am safely inside the driver’s seat. The cool night mixed with my heated breathe has begun to fog up the windows, as I try and look outside, and around the car. Yes, the engine is started, but a shadow now over loams my mirror. He has found me once again. I wanted so badly to escape him. Damn his charm, his willingness to say anything to draw you into his world.

Reaching quickly into my purse I find the gun. The shiny new thirty-eight is loaded and ready if he tries. I feel the car begin to shake as I point the gun at the shadow. The rocking is making me so unsure of pulling the trigger, and then it stops.

Red begins to spill over the dashboard turning the darkness into a crimson scene of passion...

Frogs & Roses ~ Chapter II

Illustration by Gen @ GensBlogiddyblog







For Hannah...

Frogs & Roses, Chapter I Contd: Test quickly but sadly hopped back to the pond to tell his siblings about what he had discovered...(stay tuned for the adventures of Test the bullfrog as he wonders off towards the field of flowers for another tasty bite of lunch...) Well, in the beginning of the story we learn about how a family of frogs live amongst the pond that has a rather large tree hovering over it. Test is the oldest of his other frog siblings and has discovered there is more to eat than just insects...

After his mother tucked him and his siblings into bed Test began to tell his sisters and brothers about his new discoveries. They did not seem as interested as he had hoped, but told him that their parents said they were not allowed to stray further than their own home entry or the pond. They warned him that he was a fool and would become prey to other animals as his father had also warned him, so he lay there thinking about the pink tulip he had tasted earlier in the day. Thinking about its silky leaves, how they tasted, and about how they were sweet and tart all in the same bite. As he drifted off to sleep he began to see visions of the cluster of color just beyond the field and pond. His home was a safe haven. Test yearned to go further out, but his parents forbid it until he grew larger and could start a family of his own.

That morning out on the lily pads during breakfast he asked his father about the snake creature that had moved into his neighborhood. "One day Test you will be able to defend yourself, so for now stay away from them" his father told him. "Snakes, um yum yum" his father began to mutter to himself. "Chester" his mother called out to his father, "We are missing a few little ones, and I need your help over here" she ranted on. Test took this opportunity to hop off to the tree roots again and see if the old owl was around. He had questions about the snakes, but knew his father would not have anymore of his curiosity for the moment.

The old owl had been in the tree, but Test noticed he flew off out towards the field. He climbed up as high as he could to see where the bird was going. The day was a beautiful sunny, but windy afternoon. Test could see the grass leaning with the wind. He saw the old owl land in another tree that was very far, but sat upon the top of a great hill. Shadows of dark and light moved across the field and Test thought at great length about what this could be. He could not see above the limbs and leaves of the otter branches, so he did not know that it was light fluffy clouds moving way up in the sky.

Suddenly the sun shined the brightest and he noticed a patch of color just off to the left of the great tree that old Mr. Owl had landed in. A lough croak came out of his throat as he began to become excited. "Oh how I would so like to taste that color" he thought to himself. He could hear his mother calling out his name, and he knew if he did not go soon he would be in big trouble. Off Tester hopped back to the pond for their afternoon naps and sunbathing upon the lily pads. His mother and father would quietly sing them all to sleep. To most humans and other animals it all just sounded like a unique blend of croaking noises, but to the frogs it was a ballad of the most beautiful noise.

Later that afternoon one of the parent snakes had slithered into the pond and tried to see if they could catch one of the baby frogs for a snack. Daddy Chester was on to her and decided that it was time for Tester to see what they were all about. Without much notice he pounced on the female snake and Test watched with much curiosity. "This will teach you to try and get past my watchful eyes" his father told the female. "Please kind sir do not eat me, for I have many babies to care for back in my den" the female snake told his father. "We cannot have you trying your slithery tricks around here my dear" and he quickly ate the female. "But father" Tester pleaded with his father, "Why do you have to eat her"? His father told him that they eat snakes that roam around the water. He also shared that there were many other snakes out in the world that would easily eat him if he was not careful. Those snakes live out away from the pond, and are much larger he explained to Tester. "Be careful son and do not go to far out from the pond area, because I might not be able to save you next time" Chester told his first born.

Tester still had the patch of color on his mind all afternoon, but was disturbed at what he had just witnessed. How can such cruel things go on when there is so much beauty in this landscape he thought. When he found the right moment he was going to sneak off and go investigate the color, but he wanted to speak to the old Mr. Owl before he made his journey. His father had warned him not to venture off after dark, because that is when the snakes are more active around the pond, so he decided he would go back to the tree roots after his morning breakfast and sunning tomorrow. Test would learn as much as he could about the field life and what exactly was that new color he had seen. He was growing much bigger and his appetite was as well...

(I know you might have thought Tester would have made his way to the field by now, but he was smart enough to heed his father's warnings, and wanted to gather as much information as he could. Once he talks to the wise old Mr. Owl in the morning, he will begin his journey to the patch of color...we must have patience sometimes to become keen on what mysteries lay ahead in our journey's of life...)

Lost at Sea

I am posting a blog tomorrow about a soup I just made on my 'Behind The Wheel Chef'...and it ties into the old nursery rhyme 'Three Men In A Tub', but then this came steaming out into my own ocean of creative thought, becoming a poem...















CookAppeal Maker, E Stelling, 3/2/09

Lost on an ocean, a sea of green…
No sails.
No compass.
No direction.
Alone with only your thoughts,
Adrift on salty concoctions;
Add some passing fish
Make a paddle from drift
Stir up some friends
Throw in a bed of self discovery & personal growth
Healthy taste of what’s to come, and
You have cooked up;
A great big bowl of Yum!

There is a contest that you can enter using food you eat to spell out things...

If you want to enter this contest with Tangled Noodle...

To participate:

1. 'Write or spell' using food or drink and create a blog post about it until midnight on Friday, March 6th. Any previous blog posts you already have where you've created a 'written'-inspired dish or drink will be accepted.

2. Blog about your creation, including photos, and add a link back to Savor the Thyme (http://savorthethyme.blogspot.com) and Tangled Noodle (http://tanglednoodle.blogspot.com).

3. Send an e-mail titled 'Eating Your Words' to eatingyourwords09@cox.net with the following information:

• Your name
• The name of your blog
• The name of your dish or drink
• Your food blog name and the link to your entry, including pictures, by midnight March 6, 2009

You can still participate even if you don't have a blog at all. Simply e-mail the above information minus the blog details and we'll include it in the round up.

4. Please keep it clean! Appropriate humor is always welcome.