You and you and you (A Poem by Cathy Gruman, revised 10/3/10)

One two
I love you
and you
and you
and you
and if I turn away in shame
and gather my wits to handle pain
will you remember the love I gave
forgive my momentary wane
or push me away just the same
as though I never gave at all
or supported you in your fall?
The times when others turned away
when you weren't pretty
I chose to stay.
So will you allow me here
this moment,
or not
and still receive love
from you
and you
and you
and you?

Rocking It Loud (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

I was puttering around the house one day listening to a Tina Turner CD. She sounded so amazing and was so uplifting that it inspired me to write this poem about her and other women that I admire.


Tina Turner rocks it loud
and makes music with the crowd.
Merchant sings melodically
and takes her point to the unth degree.
Cowboy Junkies softly bring
you and me together with subtlety.
And we move on from our past,
the stains remain but the hope lasts.
Some rock, some talk, some sing,
some give away their hearts
holding hands of little ones
that only love can bring.
Zoie girls sing their praises
looking pretty and bringing it real
making their points to heal.
Dollie Parton in all her glory
has humility.
She brings it on with her voice
and her smile illuminates her space.
Audrey Hepburn, what a lady.
She danced, she sang
she lit up the screen,
though in her early years
she lived the horror of 1943.
She did what she could to stay alive
and miraculously she survived.
Her life moved on to Hollywood
it brought her fame,
not her heart though,
just opportunity.
Her life ended in the arms of starving children
unlike you and me.
And we move on from our past
the stains remain, but the hope lasts.
Some rock, some talk, some sing.
Some give away their hearts
holding hands of little ones
that only love can bring.
We do, we talk, we dance, we sing,
we act, we work, we play
and eventually our hearts lead us to where we need to be.

Hey Ama Ma Ma! (A Poem by Cathy Gruman)

We're cruising down Huntington Drive on a Wednesday afternoon
San Gabriels as a backdrop and no particular place to go.
You, in corduroys and navy blue Vans
bouncing in your car seat
to the tune of Life in a Northern Town
and you were singin'
Hey Ama ma ma!
Hey Ama ma ma!
Ah ah ah ah ahhhhhhhh...
and I was smiling from the inside out
The song went,
"A Salvation Army band played,
and the children drank lemonade
and the morning lasted all day, all day...
Life in a Northern Town.
Bashing around town that day,
post office, McDonald's and the park,
stopping for vanilla ice cream.
I plopped you in your car seat
vanilla cone clinched in your hand
and you committed to the feast.
Moments later I looked back to see the glorious sight
of you eating your ice cream from the cone up,
a big gaping crater at the bottom
promises of a white snow avalanche.
The mountain of vanilla sat on top tilting like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
"Hi" was your expression and you got back to business,
eating your cone from bottom up
and I was smiling from the inside out,
like today when I think of you
but somewhat desparately as that time is gone.
Our worlds have pulled apart slowly, as they should,
as you go your own way,
singing your own new tunes;
bashing around with your beloved one.
Your ice cream cones have become bon appetites on 4th Street
and cool drinks downtown.
Errands are now shows and parties from Long Beach to L.A.
But that day of long ago remains a permanent stain
of a million smiles from the inside out
as I recall your little voice, face and body singing
Hey Ama ma ma! Hey Ama ma ma!
Ah ah ah ah ahhhhhh...
to the tune of
Life in a Northern Town.

Bonnie's Place - Chapter One (by Cathy Gruman)

I've been writing this short story (or novella, or whatever it ends up being), for a few years now. It's longer than a short story and not long enough for a novel, hence, novella. Picture it in the form of a hand held size book, sort of like what Hemmingway's Novella's are on, like "The Red Pony" and "Old Man and the Sea". At least, that's what I'm picturing it to be. Hemmingway! She thinks she writes like Hemmingway? No way! I can assure you, I think I write like crap, but if I'm going to get any better, I have to look up to my guys and gals in the literary world and say to myself, if them, why not me? What's keeping me from finishing this book, I don't know, but I thought I would write a chapter at a time on my blog here, and maybe that will do the trick. It's a work in progress and needs a lot of work, so I'm sure I'll be back to do some editing now and then. But for today, here's the first chapter of "Bonnie's Place" in it's current form. Thanks for reading.... Cate.

BONNIE'S PLACE
Chapter One
"Happy Birthday"

Happy Birthday Bonnie! Blow out the candles! "Phhhhhhpppppthhhhh!" Bonnie stretches forward as far as her little body will allow and after a couple of attempts, she blows out the candles. It's her fourth birthday, and she's surrounded by her mom and dad, grandpa and grandma, auntie Jeanie and a few close friends of the family. She's especially excited about Abbie, her cousin and Sam her neighbor being here. Her face is lit up with awe and excitement. With an ear to ear smile, she looks up at mom and dad, the kind of smile a child gives when all she knows is love, when life is new and fresh and mom and dad are always there. Uninhibited. But as the room breaks out with song, "Happy Birthday Bonnie! Happy Birthday Bonnie!", she is overwhelmed and starts to cry and mommy picks her up. "It's okay baby, we love you! We're just singing Happy Birthday." Mom gives her a kiss on the cheek and Bonnie's face returns to smiles and giggles. Her once teared cheeks are smiles again and she looks at the cake before her. As if it were a magnificent challenge, she sticks her hand in the frosting and laughter fills the room.

Common Courtesy

Its rare form is something to behold.
When expressed, it's oh so beautiful.
A unique experience.
Today, it comes as a surprise when it occurs; I stop in temporary wonderment, left with a smile.
If only it happened more, I'd feel less dismayed when I'm out and about.
It takes but a slight shift in thought to join in the wonderment of humankind's simple task of keeping each other afloat and free, in this act of common courtesy.

Periwinkles

The periwinkle flower fell to the ground as she hailed the cab.
All she could think about was how he looked at her when she said it was time for her to go. His eyes were faint but deliberate, probably thinking he would never see her again. On her trip there to see him she stopped at a garden and stole a handful of periwinkles. She knew he liked blue. She grabbed a paper cup at the hospital, filled it with water and put the periwinkles in it. Then as she sat before him for the first time in ten years, she reached for the words in her throat, to say something meaningful, but she didn't know what or how to express her reasoning for leaving without a word that night. He remembers the look on her face that night ten years ago, when they walked through the door without their child, their child she could have saved if she were paying more attention. "It's not your fault," he said. And her response was empty, but clear enough for him to see her next move. Her face was drawn, her heart was cold, her hope was gone, and he to her was forever a reminder of their now dead son. So when she left he did not fight, he didn't have the will or might as he too was at a loss for what he loved so dearly. Somehow at this time she found her way back to console him in his current state, but only briefly because her pain refused to abate.

Blessed Wind

The wind swept through their house like a storm.
In and out, in and out, more times than they could count.
Not knowing what hit them, they blamed the other because it felt less severe.
Half the blame is less painful than the whole.
It swept through, knocking down plants, dishes and lamp stands.
They'd put them back in place, then the wind would knock them down again.
Again, they'd pick everything up and put them back in place,
and the wind would come again, repeating its course,
and down the dishes, shelves, and nic nacs came,
only to be picked up again.
She kept wondering why she continued,
and he with excuses would sing another song.
But she never really knew him, nor he her.
In each other's arms, they did not belong.
Only after the umpteenth time, did they finally see,
the only thing left was their original song
and the stark, stale reality that it was gone.