Posted in Jeanne Marie

Moving Again

So we’re moving again. This next house will be the 15th house we have bought and hopefully the last; although I wouldn’t count on it.
We’ve also rented at least six apartments. I have painted and wallpapered each place we’ve lived in and I’ve also left behind beautiful gardens, even at the apartments.
I don’t know if I have Gypsy blood, but I’m pretty sure I do.
We have lived in Massachusetts, New Jersey, Massachusetts, New Hampshire,  Oklahoma, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Florida and New Hampshire and are now in the process of moving back to Oklahoma. I guess Oklahoma wins as the favorite.
I started packing the day we sold the house, which was over two months ago, and I am just finishing up tonight, one day before we load the moving truck.
I started packing early because I didn’t want to cut it close, but that didn’t work out too well. I think we have too much stuff!
It’s 11 p.m. and I just sat down for the first time since 10:00 this morning. Unless you count the ladies room.
My daughter Jodie is flying in today with her friend Kelli to drive my car back to Oklahoma and my husband is on his way home from the airport with them right now.
I ache from head to toe and I’m exhausted. I really think I am getting too old to keep moving. If only I could just convince my head that my body doesn’t like this packing thing.
I don’t even want to think about the unpacking thing and maybe I won’t even do it. Maybe I’ll just put all the boxes in one of the spare bedrooms and let them stay there.
Maybe I’ll just sit around and write when we get there.
By the way, I’m writing a book called 15 Houses.
I’ll let you know if I ever finish it.
Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

The Princess

The Princess was sitting in her castle and she swore no man would she let woo.

She turned them all away as she said, no, not you, not you, not you, to myself I will be true.

She danced with her butterflies, she twirled in her flower gardens like when she was two.

She whispered to her flowers, confessing, I love you and you and you.

So happy was this woman that she vowed never to wed and then a Knight in dazzling armor appeared at the castle gates, the sun shining on his head.

She was blinded by his beauty, aura like spun gold and this one Knight she invited to her bed, visions of together growing old.

Prince Charming was his name and wow, that man tickled her fancy with his soft kiss and even if he just walked by, she would stumble and a step she would miss.

Well, we all know about no such thing as happy endings and soon the Princess gave up her other loves, like her writing.

She was busy twisting and turning and bending to keep the Prince happy, looking in her mirror-mirror and often sitting there silently for hours.

The Prince started kissing her less and less often and his voice for her…he no longer softened.

Many nights she cried herself to sleep, under so many full moons…she would weep and weep and weep.

Many moons later, she came to her senses, had the guards toss the Prince out and around her old gardens she built stronger fences.

This is a true story and you know it’s true, because I was the Princess and you, you were the Knight I gave my heart too.

Silly Princess, Stupid Boy, hard lessons, me and you.

Posted in Women Who Think to Much

Other’s Eyes

Butterflies flit around my face

morning does not stay

minutes turns to hours

as I duel with weeds and play.

I go out front and gasp

stock-still, in awe I stand

loving flowers of every hue

petals are caressed with hand.

Sun sets, splashing orange

and yellow across the sky

stunning, breathtaking

fiery colors fast-slipping by.

“Dear God, is this all just for me?”

“Child of nature, thumbs of green

butterfly whisperer, home garden queen,

send your pictures to other’s eyes

and they will bless all who see.

by Jeanne Marie

Posted in Jeanne Marie

The Bobbsey Twins, Dad And Me

Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

bobbsey twins

I love hearing the soft splatter of rain against my bedroom window in those shadowy moments between sleeping and waking up. As I snuggle under the warm quilt, still half asleep, I feel silent anticipation surround me. It’s raining and from the rhythm of the drops as they splash the window it sounds as if it’s going to rain all day.

As I become more alert and in touch with reality, I realize that my happiness is flowing from the past. I learned to love the rain years ago. My dad was a bricklayer and when it rained he couldn’t go to work. I remember waking up on those rainy mornings knowing that it would be a bookstore day. I don’t know when the tradition started, but my memories seem focused on the year I learned to read. I loved books from the moment I could read, and my happiest…

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