Farewell

Farewell

Each time we part I wonder
if we will see each other again. We are no
longer young, and more time passes between
our meetings and one day it will happen
that we will say farewell in our usual way and we
won't know it is our last farewell. As much
as I try to ignore the possibility, one day
the expected or unexpected will happen
to one of us, and the other will be left with
only memories. And tears.

Never

Never

Never say things
you will regret later
or speak in
anger, better bite
your tongue instead.

Never worry about
things you cannot
change, too much
wasted energy is
not a good thing.

Never pass up
an opportunity
to do something
fun as life is
shorter than
you know.

Never write poetry
late at night
as your tiredness
will be obvious
to all. who read
your your words.

The Bridge

The Bridge
(A Sestina)

I cross the high bridge
fulfill my own dream
seek to earn the praise
outside the gold window
receive all the love
I trust I deserve.

And what I deserve
creates a living bridge
connecting hope and love
a fantastic new dream
a transparent window
worthy of utmost praise.

I raise my eyes in praise
know that I don't deserve
but am joyful for the window
that gives me the bridge
the fantastic dream
of happiness and love.

There is nothing like love
to show me that praise
is less significant than a dream
but something I deserve
as I consider the living bridge
that leads to the gold window.

Thinking of the gold window
I ponder all the love
that passes across the bridge
contemplate the high praise
that we all do deserve
whether or not in a dream.

I think about the dream
look out the gold window
don't know what I deserve
or what I should love
I wonder how can I praise
so much that I cannot bridge.

I try to bridge, to dream
to all I give praise, open the window
With much love, I hope I deserve.

Longing

Longing

Pizza sometime, maybe ice cream,
more time, a good book, inspiration,
appreciation, sleep, friendship, a
helping hand, understanding, laugthter,
a smile, puppy kisses, caring, love.

Understanding

Understanding


What do you want?

He is the father of the children.

That doesn't answer the question.
What do you want?

I want us to be a family.

Is that what you want?

I want him to see them.
I don't want him to see them.
He doesn't want to see them.

I'm confused.
I hear mixed messages.

You don't understand.

Bob's Barbecue

Bob's Barbecue

Bob and Marie invited us over
for a barbecue at their fifth wheel
which was more like a house than
a trailer. Marie asked me what

I would like to drink, and Diane
said I should have a Margarita
as they had lived in Mexico and
would know how to make a

good one; so I ordered a Margarita
but immediately regretted my
decision when the Margarita
mix appeared and I knew it would

be nothing like the Margaritas
Diane made nor anything special
at all. But I drank the Margarita
which was okay, all the while

wishing I had taken wine. I sat
on a comfortable leather chair,
and Diane sat on another one.
When it cooled down a bit

we went outside and sat around
the outside table and watched
Bob barbecued the pork chops. I
took photos to preserve the event

and the people in attendance.
Bob and Marie, Laney and Elliott,
Diane, me. When it was time to eat
we went inside, sat around the table

and ate pork chops, Brussels sprouts,
sweet potatoes, and salad. This
time I had some wine. For dessert
we had ice cream with blackberries.

It is amazing how much room there
was in the fifth wheel. After dinner
I went to sit again in the leather
chair, and Diane sat in the other one.

One time when Diane was talking
she gestured so broadly that her hand
brushed the candle which was setting
between her and me, and the candle

tipped and candle wax got on the
leather chair and on my shirt but
luckily nothing started on fire and
we later learned the wax came off

the leather without difficulty. It was
a pleasant evening with good food
and good conversation in a beautiful
fifth wheel, and though the wax is

not yet out of my shirt, we are
working on it.

Boarding the Dogs

Boarding the Dogs

Tulip and Violet notice
when I take out the carriers,
clamor to crawl inside.
Short tails wag, happy,
expectant of opportunity
to ride. Anticipating doggy
pleasures, new smells,
adventures, places to explore.
I place carriers in car, drive
off, dogs rest happily,
pleased to be at my side.
They do not know they
are enroute to the boarding
kennel, no great adventure
for them. People say dogs
don't have a concept of
time passing. I hope this
is true and that they won't
miss me as much and long
as I will miss them.

I Regret

I Regret

I didn't notice
didn't thank
didn't praise

didn't pay attention
spoke too soon
spoke at all

didn't hold a hand
didn't befriend
didn't speak

didn't volunteer
didn't befriend.
looked the other way

I regret that
I cannot say
it won't happen again

Work

Work

I try to work it out somehow
even when it is difficult to
organize, be responsible
accomplish all I should.
Use every minute, every hour,
begin tasks, finish them,
clean up, stay one step ahead,
remember schedule, accomodate
classes, meals, naps. All the
while, smile, be patient, keep
children, busy, learning, happy,
and still find time for me.

Haiku

Haiku

Sly cholla cactus
will flirt with you as you pass
sneak to bite your bum.

Rebirth

Rebirth

For years we didn't communicate
I really didn't expect it to change
too much hurt, too much pain.
I was resigned, didn't hope.
It was what it was. There was
nothing to do but let go and
let God. Then it changed, not
sure why, but maybe because
she had a child of her own
and now knew what it was like
to be a mother. Sometimes it's
best to accept, not question. Our
elationship was reborn. I am
Mother again and loved.

Anger

Anger

He was dying. The doctor said
he was dying, he had a few days,
no more. She did not accept, blamed
the doctor Do something, she pleaded.
I can do nothing more, he said.

She was angry. With the doctor.
With her husband. With God.
With everyone. With life
It was not right. It was not fair.
Her husband would not die.

Her husband could not die.
She shook her fist at the heavens,
implored the doctor, beseeched God.
It is not yet his time. Help me. Help
my husband. But it was his time.

The doctor could do no more. God
did not intervene. She had to accept
death's power. Death demands this,
does not argue. Death arrived
And then, only then, did she cry.

I Don't Know

I Don't Know

i say what do you want
she says i don't know
i say what does he want
she says i don't know.

another says
i hear mixed messages
on the one hand you
say he doesn't see the

children and on the
other hand you say
you don't want him to
I'm confused.

she said don't worry
it is only paternity.
i say what is his goal?
she says I don't know.

I said try to find out
it is not simple as it appears.
I think my own thoughts
he is a trickster

not to be trusted
nor underestimated
I am silent now, fear, don't
know what to say or do.

All I Want Is......

All I Want Is.....


All I want is to remember
all the things I forgot

the experiences I had
the places I visited
the people I knew
the conversations I had
the occasions I celebrated
the movies I saw
the books I read
the stories that were told.
the things I don't even
know that I once knew.

All I want is to remember
all the things I forgot.

Red

Red

Red runs hot
heat of passion,
sizzles, burns,
lasting love.

Heat of hate
denies love
knife pierces
crimson heart,
wound bleeds,
red blood runs
red runs strong
life is gone.

Nobody Knows

Nobody Knows

Nobody knows it doesn't matter
Nobody knows there is no goal
Nobody knows there is no answer
Nobody knows they'll sell their soul

That's how it goes
Nobody knows

Nobody knows there is no winner
Nobody knows all is equal in the end
Nobody knows trouble will follow
Nobody knows what's around the bend

That's how it goes
Nobody knows

Nobody knows the die is cast
Nobody knows no one is home
Nobody knows the dream is futile
Nobody knows they'll die alone

That's how it goes
Nobody knows

Mary Kling in the style of Leonard Cohen's "Everybody Knows."
4/15/09

Love Is

Love is
a sensational mountain sunrise,
a comet streaming across the sky,
a hand in hand walk along a forest path
a banquet of delectable delicacies
a road that surprises around each turn
a comforter to warm the coldest night

Tulip and Violet

Tulip and Violet

On one hand, Tulip and Violet
play, sprawl together in the sun,
team up to bark at outide squirrels,
lick each other's eyes and muzzle,
frolic and fetch tossed squeaky balls.
Their eyes dance, tails wag,
inseparable friends forever.

On the other hand, Violet and Tulip
snarl at the other, bite the other's
leg or muzzle, fight to lick almost
empty plate or cooking pan, race to
capture dropped carrot or offered treat,
jostle for favored lap position or cozy
blanket, to be the chosen parther
for a walk. Eyes glare, tails stiff,
competitors forever.

Hobby Reflections

Hobby Reflections

Who will want my stamps someday?
My plateblocks and first day of issues?
Who will care about my old coins?
My war pennies? My state quarters? Who
will enjoy in the future the hobbies
I enjoyed in the past? Or will my
treasures interest nobody, be sold
without the batting of an eye?
Hopefully I will live long enough
to interest someone in carrying on
where I left off when I gave up
collecting for writing and walking.

So We Decided To Go Out for Brunch

So we decided to go out for Easter
brunch at the Mexican restaurant
and we and our friends arrived early
but were able to be seated anyway.
I talked to my daughter by cell phone
and she was having trouble finding
the place and sounded quite annoyed,
and later I called her again and she
got directions from someone, but
by now the rest of us had helped
ourselves to the brunch. Daughter
arrived with children, and she and son
immediately went off to the buffet area,
and baby was left with us to watch.
And when daughter and son came back
I went to get more food , and we were
all back and forth, forth and back.
The baby was teething, and I was
wearing good clothes, and daughter
seemed to be gone a long time as
baby screamed and drooled. Baby
couldn't help it, but I wished I had
not worn good clothes. And The food
was good, I ate more than I should have,
but it was Easter after all. Relaxing? Not!

Leashes

Leashes

Black leash with rhinestones.
Leather, classy, like Tulip.
I hold it, lonely, waiting.
I am sad when I look at the
leash usually worn by Tulip,
my walking partner. Violet
has a violet-colored leash.
No bling but classy in its
own way. I hold it too. I put
both leashes out of sight
in places I hope I will not
notice, but even if I don't
notice I know. Tulip and
Violet are not at home.
Both dogs are at the kennel
tonight. I miss them so much.

Friday

Friday

Friday is a welcome day,
it heralds the weekend
time to relax and play,
days to put my feet up
to do what I want to do
sleep late, play fetch with
my dogs, no obigations
except those I choose.
I smile on Friday, tension
leaves my body. I can tolerate
anything Friday because
I know the weekend follows,
and weekends are mine.

Memory

Memory

I said I had in the past
written about many memories
and didn't know what to write
this time, and she said I should
write about my first lie, and I said
I didn't remember my first lie,
must have forgotten it, that
I really didn't remember lies
though I must have told some.
but more remembered some
omissions, things I didn't tell.

She said I should write about
a time I saw my father cry,
and I said I never saw my
father cry. So she said I
should write about a time I
saw my mother cry. I told
her I saw my mother cry but
did not want to write about
those times because it was
too painful to reflect on times
I saw my mother's pain,
when someone hurt her
or when my dad died.

She said I should write about
a surprise, and the biggest
surprise I can remember is
when on the day of my
birthday she whisked me away,
and I didn't know where I was
going, and took me to Kohler to
stay at the American Club,
eat in their wonderful restaurant,
and to golf at Blackwolf Run.
Now that is a wonderful memory!

Morning Routine

Morning Routine

I wake up every morning, weigh myself,
dress in work out clothes, walk downstairs
with the dogs, take them outside, turn on
coffee maker readied the night before, turn
on computer, feed dogs, microwave frozen
blueberries, mix blueberries with plain yogurt,
eat breakfast in front of the computer screen
and television screen while dogs hover waiting
to lick the remains of my breakfast bowl.
These are my moments of peace before the
busy day begins. I savor them fully, enjoy
my early morning routine before the day's work
begins with hustle bustle of children and their
needs and activities and little time for personal
play except in moments stolen for myself
unexpectedly, surreptitiously, in the day.

Clean Clothes

Clean Clothes

My aunt used to tell my mother
she washed clothes so much
she washed the life out of them.
My mother did wash clothes.
Everything had to be clean.
My aunt, on the other hand, would
iron dirty clothes rather than wash
them.. I am not like her I am like
my mother. I love to wash clothes.
I love it when the wash basket is full
and I can run the washing machine.
If there are only a few items in the
basket, I look around for more.
Even if I have many more clothes
to wear, if my favorites are
dirty, it is time for me to wash.
Nothing makes me happier
than having all clothes clean.

Missing Persons

Missing Persons

I miss a large family, brothers
and sisters to play with on a
rainy day.Some older, some
younger, all with blonde hair,

blue eyes. No one argues
or disagrees.We play together,
tease, learn from one another.
Johnny is the oldest, my protector.

who looks out for me. With him
I feel safe. Others are nameless,
I don't know why.Two more boys.
Two more girls. Six in all. I am

third oldest, a follower not a
leader, happy to have older
brother and sister lead. I don't
mind hand-me-downs, play

cowboys with my brothers,
dolls with my sister. We all
ride bicycles everywhere, don't
return home until dinner time.

I pictuure them now in my
imagination, in my mind,
and miss the siblings I never
knew, the family I never had.

Uberlingen Memorial

Uberlingen Memorial

(In remembrance of the mid-air
collision over Uberlingen, Germany,
on the night of July 2, 2002 )

The memorial to the plane crash
in Uberlingen, Baden-Wurttemburg,
is not easy to find unless one travels
with a local. Six large balls represent
strands of pearls of the necklace that
was severed that night above Lake
Constance when a Russian airliner
collided with a transport plane. Human
error. Sky lit up, debris scattered twenty
miles around. Seventy-one lives lost.
Fifty-two school children in the dawn
of their lives. Their lives ended quickly,
in a burst of flame, destinies forever
unfulfilled. But here all are remembered,
names inscribed on the monument that
overlooks tranquil Lake Constance
visited by tourists from all over the world.
Most are unaware of the almost hidden
hillside memorial visited only by those
who have been told of its existence.
Mourners speak many languages,
view in silence, gaze into the lake,
and reflect. Grief knows no nationality,
is deep and dark as the water below.

Tulip

Tulip

Tulip, you stand before me,
gaze into my eyes as if trying
to figure me out. I look into
your eyes, try to read your

mind. Often you seem so
human to me in your reactions.
You tilt your head as I speak,
listen carefully to every word.
Your face is so expressive.

Then you bring your ball to
me, squeak it at my feet,
incite me, with persistence,
to take it, throw it as far
as I can so you can run

after it, squeak it again,
return it to me, assured
now the game will continue,
that I've been hooked.

When you are tired you
leap into my lap, curl
up, a ball of fur, to sleep
at peace now loved, safe.
Tulip, I love you.

The Problem With Being a Grandmother

The Problem With Being A Grandmother

The problem with being a grandmother
is that she often knows what is important,
should be done, but cannot do because
the children are not hers. She has a special
position, which involves both privilege and
responsibility. She enriches lives, supports,
but the children are not hers, no matter how
much she loves them. She has to step back,
allow the parent to make decisions, which
means mistakes might be made. Grandmothers
have to know when not to react, when to
speak, and when to listen. Not easy.

The Outsider

The Outsider

Nine-year-old kicks stones at the
edge of the playground, waits for
time to pass, for hated recess
to end. She sees other children
playing games, laughing.No one
plays with her. She tries to look
like she enjoys kicking stones,
does not want others to approach,
but the truth is she is afraid she's
not worthy. She is an outsider,
sees no way to find a way in

Unknown Origin

Unknown Origin


He says, I am angry with my mother,
I ask him why. He says, I don't know.
I ask him, what does she do?
He says, nothing. I ask him,
what would you like her to do?
He answers, nothing. I ask him,
why do you hit her? He says,
I am angry. I ask, does she
yell at you? He says, I yell at
her. I say, she loves you more
than anything in the world. She
works hard every day to give you
a good life. He says, my dad loves
me, plays video games with me.
I cannot discover the origin of his
anger toward his mother, and I
cannot explain to a five-year-old
that playing video games is fun,
not love. And it is not my place
to explain that his father has
given him nothing at all.