The Trophy

The seas are ever so stormy,
And no land in sight.
Will this craft buck and reel for eternity,
With me trapped tight?

I am conflicted
I am loved
I am addicted
I am shoved

I am witness to chaos
I am torn
I am soaked in pathos
I want to be reborn

I , the trophy gathering dust on a shelf
Then comes a man who admires me for what I am
He, that he loves me for myself
Picked me up and dusted the hurt way, opening the dam

We both said this will end in tears
From the start it was out of our control
And we both dread our worst fears
But here we are now- heart and soul

Is there a happy ending?
Can we make all this work?
Is it wrong, the time and love I am spending?
Or are we all hopeless jerks?

I am now the shiny trophy
Yet still tied down by the other
You woke me to the catastrophe
But I am still beholden to another

How do I reconcile with the pain?
How would I go on without you?
Although I try in vain
I still love you….I still love you.

There is a place

Wrapped in brown paper and tied with string

Waiting for me….

Occluded by plain paper, belying its beautiful contents

And in the half light I can almost see it.

Moving through the fields and whispering pines

Over well mended fences and sleeping horses so fine.

The people who once lived here loved this place, 

and now I get to love it the same

my mother and her dearest wish

became my dearest wish

and look what it all became

now I will tend the farm

I will till the soil

I will plant the seeds

I will fret over the weather a bit

And I will reap the peace and happiness

In the night the creek will babble

The cicadas will drone

The owl will sing his plaintive whistling song

While my family sleep

In the mornings the animals will stir

Light will pour in through every window

Steaming mugs of tea will welcome the awakenings

There are children, a husband and animals to feed

Horses wait impatiently for grain and hay

Hens sit their eggs and wait for scratch

Dogs lie in the morning sun

Vegetables sit ripe and dew fallen waiting to be picked for dinner

I see the entrance now…

A sign crafted by me

An avenue of trees

A destination called home.

~Charlotte 7.16.09

The Pep Rally

Stand up on your feet girl

Put your worry down

There are better things in this town

Don’t let him get you down, remember no one wants a frown

You have to be strong

You have to be kind

You have done nothing wrong

And you have ties that bind

Remember Great Grandmother used to say:

No one is so useless that they cannot serve as a bad example.

But mind you, there is so much good in the world left to sample

~Charlotte 6.2.09

The Killing Frost

I watch the earth shudder and heave beneath its menace

Cooling the ground at any cost

Forcing the green shoots to pay their penance

For the spring days it has lost

The beauty of the season holding on against its intruder

Hunkering down and pulling close

The frost acting as the great excluder

As the grey of winter and the green of spring fight to transpose.

~Charlotte Greer Slater 2011

Token

Here’s a little token

With all my heart I deliver

Little we have left unspoken

Our passion flows like a river

So spend a little while

Read this over and over

Find some place to keep it on file

To be reminded that you and only you are my lover

~Charlotte Greer Slater 2011

Darling your and I should get together and write a Most Beloved Book of little things –  You are  so good at expressing yourself

How beautiful ! 

I have been under the ivy many times but since you were born I have never been alone there.

Thank You

Love

Mom

—– Original Message —– 

From: Charlotte 

To: Dale Greer 

Sent: Monday, October 27, 2008 5:16 AM

Subject: The Ivy

The Ivy 

It wouldn’t take me long

To tell you how to find it

To tell you where we’ll meet

This little girl inside me

Is retreating to her favorite place

Go into the garden, go under the ivy

Under the leaves, away from the party

Go right to the rose

Go right to the white rose

I sit here in the thunder

The green on the gray

I feel it all around me

And it’s not easy for me

To give away a secret

It’s not safe

To go into the garden, go under the ivy

Under the leaves, away from the party

Go right to the rose

Go right to the white rose

Go into the garden, go under the ivy

Go under the leaves with me

Go right to the rose

Go right to the white rose

I’ll be waiting for you

It wouldn’t take me long

To tell you how to find it

~Charlotte ‘08

The Invitation

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon…
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to
be careful
be realistic
remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me
is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another
to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,
“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Sir Ely the Fluffy

Big paws with lion’s claws, always sheathed

A furry wide face you are always pleased to greet

Comical nature belies true affection

A willingness to follow you in any direction

A bellow of a rumbling purr

Long orange and yellow fur

Green eyes and whiskers so fine

An expression that says ‘be mine’

Constant commentary, a chatter well received

Upon any encounter on the street

A casual greeting with a flop and roll 

And an invitation to follow for a stroll

The joker who wants to go for a ride

Who sits with paws propped on the inside

Carefully watching the passing world slide

As you drive with a cat by your side

Beloved friend to corgi and child

Morning companion to the mother besides

Never one to dally on the inside

Forever exploring what the world provides

You will always be the cat about West Oaks

The one whose neighbors loved the most

Sad the news will be of your passing

For a little imprint you made is everlasting

I will miss you, Sir Ely the Fluffy

Saved from neglect, you gave us so much love

I  do hope you are watching over us from above

and know it’s you we think the world of

~Charlotte Greer Slater 2011