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Poetry

Poetry

Don’t wait for the perfect time..TODAY is the perfect time.

Tomorrow..
We wake up at 20-
on the cusp of adulthood–
We are fierce and bold and ready..
but frightened at…
the big world out there..
and all the choices we must now make.

We wake up at 30- full of bravado!!!
Finally, we are fully human.
Finally we have the reins!
100% responsible for ourselves..
with a job, a house, kids and a dog.
We have our entire LIVES ahead of us, after all, oui?

We wake up at 40. FORTY?
How the heck did THAT happen?
We haven’t got near what we wanted done done yet!
But we feel great! We feel powerful and in control.
The cracks have begun to take their toll, though
with life getting—complicated..
That happiness everyone sings about on the radio–
—elusive –as are the riches and comfort
we KNEW we would enjoy
back at 30…

We wake up at 50–incredulous.
FIFTY?
WTHELL?
We were 30, like, YESTERDAY, right?
But we FEEL 30 in our brains.
Our SOULS feel 30.
We THINK as 30!

However–There ARE perks.
Like grandkids..
and collections of-stuff.
Our happiness quotient–has shifted.
Different things make us smile now.
Things we NEVER thought would be part of
the people we thought we would be-at 30.
And we accept it–we accept that we are –50.

We wake up at 60–stoic..
and just a tad angry..
At ourselves.
At the world..
Angry at allll those promise we made to us
Back at 30….
Soo many have not been fulfilled.
Our lives , our paths are completely different
than what we expected–for life does that to us..

We wake up at 65-grateful..
and amazed that we made it
to that magic number in the journey,
for so many of our circle didn’t.
We are filled with a sense of urgency.

For most us have fought hard to get here..
Battling on, one way or another—
against our ill bodies
or our compromised minds..
Or addictions
Or accidental happenings …
Life..
But we made in in ‘one piece’’-altered.

So I say to you—at 20-30-40-50..
Do NOT assume.
Do NOT waste a day, an hour a moment on..
Tomorrow. Be ferocious in it.
Watch the clock with INTENT..
And accept the wisdom
of words from your elders..
For we know this much is true..

We wake up at………………………………………………
One day—we don’t…

Pamela Lee-June-2015

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Poetry

New love…

Oh what beautiful work!!

As is writing; content creating.

Each in themselves, like birthing a brand new entity.

Something that wasn’t there before it was discovered..

Just my dime.

Pamela

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Poetry

It’s a beautiful morning!! Somewhere…

‘Weekend Eve”

Today–
The T.g.i,f. of modern day..

I shall embrace it for what it is.

For life offers you no more, no less

than what you ask of it.

Sometimes it takes–

Sometimes it gives.

But, in the end

it becomes exactly

what you seek……

So I say to myself

as I do each morning,

now that I realize miracles

are made to be made–

“Carpe Diem, Pamela..

Your dreams will become

reality

ONLY if you never

let them go!”…

Pamela

June 12, 2013

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Poetry

Ahhh-July

A poem I wrote about July…
~~
Perfect 7month

But it IS!

Pink says it in her song

Fecking perfect!!!

To me, July is

fecking perfect

with only precious jewels in my memory case;

my box full of images within this still fertile mind..

of mine.

You?

September isn’t..

Perfect, that is.

Recollects of

the tears on the first days

of school are there..

My tears.

Their tears.

YOU remember, don’t you?

April is a good month; May, too.

No shoo-shoo

thoughts hanging,

dragging, on my mind.

Only the bounties of spring..

March is a has-not.

March-a cold and hard month..

For you, too?

Shivers, oui?

November—my and my brother’s birth month..

but my Momma’s death month.

June—in the starting gate

but no rest for the weary;

YET!!

January and February..

Need I explain?

It IS winteer, after all—

in CANADA!

December—the MAGIC of

so many Christmas smiles.

But the tragedy of a best friend lost

in my arms, in my home stays with me.

The other months?

Benign,

those few left in my musings.

They are just

there..

Pamela Lee

July 2, 2013

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Poetry

Without love, we are nothing…

“The profound peace of a morning alone”

I salute the healing power of early morning,

before the outside world begins its merry-go-round in our lives….

I salute the healing power of solitude

in a world of chaos and unrest;

too often in our own wee circle…..

I salute the healing power of the ocean,

even at its calmest,

and all the sounds and scents and images it brings

I salute the healing power and magic of love,

for without love, we are nothing.

It is the essence of survival.

I salute..

Pamela Lee

May, 2013

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Poetry

Christmas Quilt..

I wrote this poem dedicated to Christmas-a couple years back I hope you like it. You are welcome to share away–the poem and the image I chose to go with it..

“REMNANTS”

They come in all colors,

all textures, all naps.

Some are soft,

but some are unpleasant

to touch.

Some are pliable,

some firm..

But, lo,

all in endless, ceaseless

shapes and sizes.

Some, there for decades,

some found just today.

Some make you cry with joy

Some with sorrow or fear..

Most with overwhelming love..

But ALL are vital pieces

of the quilt you have made

in your journey this life..

Your Christmas quilt.

YOU know it!!

The one

you pull out every December

twenty five…

Undeniably,

irrefutably

there..

To , once again,

allow you to wrap up in the cloak;

a mosaic

of all those remnants…

all those collected moments of love,

protection. Magnificent moments;

memories and blissful naivety

that the world is

a very good place to be..

Pamela Lee…December 25th, 2012
@BoomerNovel

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Poetry

If you love someone, tell them. For we never know….

At Christmastime–and all year through, as I say on every one of my impromptu videos, if you love someone–show them and tell them..for we never know when that will be impossible..

~~

“Needed”

For you Momma..

And friends Nancy and Bruce, Hanna.

And sister Sherry, too..

And now I must add my precious daughter Jennifer Mc..

How can that BE??

All departed much too early…

the world a better place

for the small time you were here.

50 years you didn’t see

except for you sis, and Hanna, too….

mid-50’s is all you were allotted.

Well past 200 years you left behind

combined..

in your legacy..

The footsteps you trod

were double the size

of the rest left

to mourn you…

and need you…

by Pamela Lee

December, 2016

victory
Poetry

Life is a test, is it not??

Circle Squared

Life’s a test, is it not??

One big, long, never-ending, evolving test.

All the study, the pressure,the stress and the struggle;

the begging our brain to suck it all up

and into the soul for our eternity..

All that knowledge, then all that experience;

the moments and minutes and hours of

agonies and ecstasies

we endure and embrace

in our eternity..

But SOMETIMES, just sometimes

we come across that subject that needs

no study, no late night vigils.

No tossing and turning and punching of pillows to fit us.

No sleepless year in one single night where

we WILL our minds to be at rest-as we second guess

those right answers.

For, finally, FINALLY

we have come to a course that

is PERFECT for US!!

Like a dream job,where we rush to ‘work’ each day

FULL of excitement and anticipation..

I passed my test last night. I did not fail..

Nor do I give myself a perfect score.

in the completion of this examination

of ‘it is what it is’..

as I see it, live it,

cherish and manifest..

TODAY, now that the answers

to the questions were passed to me

before the final test of it ALL!!

Now that the chain is linked and

complete and all is well with that

here in my OWN heart….

I can now breath again…

And live..

Pamela

@BoomerNovel

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Poetry

Declutter-so your kids don’t have to decide..

Leftovers

“Will you take a few

of Mom’s baubles and blankets.

Some seashells and cowbells
and macaroni pictures.
There IS one by YOU!

Oh, and her albums and
baby teeth; think those
are bro’s..

and baskets
and tickets and cards
not a few!!
Of Christmas and birthdays
and Valentine’s past..
from our Dad and step Dad
and, GOD, what a mass
of doo-dads and corniness.

But, still we should do……….”

“Oh sis, I can’t do that.

You KNOW there’s no room
with the kid’s stuff and
our stuff
and moving in June!

What’s that, you say?
Maybe Junior can take it??
NO WAY, Hose`!
HE’S never home,
and you KNOW his style.

No—he’d laugh like a loon
at the thought of having
her junk..
And this SOON!!.

No, sis. It has to be you.
YOU make the call
to St. Vincent de Paul.”

By Pamela Lee
Fed. 10. 2013..