Blog Archives
Along the Shore
Crashing waves, I remember
Many walks along the shore
Hand in hand we strolled through life
Facing storms and sunny days
A double rainbow lights the sky
I see your gentle spirit
Telling me your love transcends
Sea and sand along the shore
Brilliant hues against dark sky
Errant waters lap my toes
Feeling close but far away
I walk with you along the shore
Sail on, my Captain
Sixteen years ago I wrote the following lighthearted poem in honor of my husband Roger and two friends, Roger and Mike, who raced our sailboat in the 1998 National Catalina Race held in Westbrook, Connecticut. They took first for the tall rig division in all three races. Yes, readers, the sailboat’s name was Sloopy, the inspiration for the fictional 36 foot sloop that Liz and Garret live aboard in Murder in Mystic, Murder in Newport and Two Headed Snake of Key West. Our Sloopy was fast and my husband could make a mighty Margarita.
I am sharing this with you in memory of my husband, who passed away on July 1, 2014. Sail on, my captain.
The pressure was on
To win a glass cup
Each silently prayed
He wouldn’t screw up
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The guy thing, you know
Machismo, at best
The challenge would come
They’d be put to the test
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The good Lord was laughing
As they hoisted the main.
These three would need blessings,
And more, it was plain
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Wine made from water
Was easy for sure,
But Roger, Mike, Roger
Three races endure?
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The task was immense
But these were nice guys
He raised His arms up
And Sloopy did rise.
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She raced to the finish
Three bullets to boot
Miracles do happen.
There’s proof in the loot.
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The lesson each learned,
To celebrate life
Believe in oneself
Be good to your wife.
Ten Fingers, Ten Toes
Ten little fingers, ten tiny toes
Delicate lashes, two eyelids closed
Bundle wrapped tightly, snuggled to Mom
God’s gift, a wonder, miracle born
A soul enters Earth, parents to guide
Journey, learning, a lifetime of growth
Mother obsessing, teaching with love
Babe grabs her heart, never to part
Adulthood arrives, a man departs
With roots and wings gifted from home
Fly away, son, and make your own way
You know that I love you forever
Ten little fingers, ten tiny toes
Delicate lashes, two eyelids closed
Bundle wrapped tightly, snuggled to me
Thanks for two gifts, for I am called MOM
Easter Past
Below is a blog I wrote last year. It touches my heart because it reminds me of Happy Easters long ago. I want to share it again.
Easter Past
Early Spring dew blankets the sleepy landscape
Tires crunch gravel in pursuit of Easter treasure
Wide eyed children scan for plastic colored eggs
Four to compete
Grandpa waits with bags in hand
Money filled eggs hidden high and low
Three boys and a girl will run the race
Four to compete
Ham in the oven kielbasa in the pot
Hot cross buns in the warmer
Tantalizing breakfast smells tease hungry athletes
Four to compete
Tension builds as we all assemble
No peeking, not fair scold the parents
A nonchalant glance, who’d notice
Four to compete
It’s time. The bags are passed
Three boys and a girl race through the yard
Snatching pink, blue, green and yellow
“Til they complete
The four dump their bags on the living room floor
Tear open the eggs to count their reward
Two tallies to take- most eggs and most money
More to compete
Starved from the contest, gastric juices flow
The sumptuous bounty spread on the dining room table
Ten crack eggs for a winner, eat what we lose
Hunger full-filled
The children are grown, gone to carve out their destinies
Grandpa and Grandma moved to angel’s realm
Parents remain to eat ham and crack eggs
Four to compete
Souls Unite
Darkest night
Souls unite
Melding minds
All mankind
Spirits passed
Souls recast
Godliness
Consciousness
Born of one
Father, son
Pre dawn light
Souls unite
Intruder
Nothing good, only bills, in the stack of yesterday’s mail I flipped through on my way back to the house. The Fall air was crisp. Columns of steam curled from the frost covered grass where rays of morning sun danced through the trees.
I sensed a presence long before I saw him blocking my path to the back door. Terror froze time. Our eyes locked. Does he smell my fear? I thought of running but there was no place to go. In seconds he could attack and I would be dead.
As if by an unspoken agreement of mutual respect, the bear turned to his right and lumbered down the hill to the next house. His slick black coat glistened in the sunlight when he stood on his powerful hind legs and shook the pear tree with his front paws until a shower of fruit fell at his feet. Like a toddler, he plopped on his bottom and ate the pears one by one until his belly was full.
That was my first encounter with the Granddaddy of black bears who caused the neighbors to buzz. Humans can purchase a piece of property, but do not own the Earth. Nature’s creatures roam free. Man is the intruder.
Young Hearts
Two young hearts
Made of Gold
Two young hearts
Brave and bold
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Learn all day
Swim at night
Homework, play
Sleep, goodnight
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Competition
Keep the pace
Some are won
Race, race, race
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Two young hearts
Digging deep
To impart
Nothing’s cheap
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Set a goal
Give their all
Swim with soul
Then stand tall
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Two young pups
Taught their Gram
Don’t give up
Who I am
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Fight the fight
Write, amend
Overwrite
‘Til the end
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Two young hearts
Made of gold
Two young hearts
Brave and bold
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Soul Journey
How long I’m here
I do not know
To choose the path
On which to grow
One’s steep with rocks
and overgrown
The other flows
to parts unknown
My choice to float
the river’s race
Without a care
Or effort placed
But soon I find
I’m in a scrape
Rapids, boulders
There’s no escape
Learn to paddle
Find the courage
Steer my vessel
Dodge and portage
I’m here to learn
Life’s lessons taught
To grow my soul
To give it thought
I take the task
Where’er I roam
It’s mine, all mine
‘Til going home
Connected
Voicemail, email
Morning chores wait
Facebook, Twitter
I’m connected
Texting, Linking
Never see a face
Or touch a hand
But I’m connected
Day is done
Gone the sun
Missed its fiery rays
But I’m connected
Birds sang in chorus
Flowers flaunted brilliance
Did not hear or see
But I’m connected
Have I missed the moment
Pulse and palette
Abundant buffet
To be connected
My wheel of life
Unable to turn
One spoke unbalanced
To be connected
Sightless eyes open
Awakened, I
Taste, touch, smell, hear
To get connected
With my soul
Humanity
Life
Connection!
Beloved Sloopy
Fiberglass, aluminum and sailcloth are the bones, but the spirit lives in the heart of anyone who sailed her. Sloopy is the 36 foot sailboat in the Liz Adams Mysteries, Murder in Mystic and Murder in Newport. She is named after the 30 foot Catalina Tall Rig that my husband, Roger and I sailed for 14 years. Initially docked in Westbrook, Connecticut, she spent most of her days with us in the homeport of Mystic, Connecticut. As in fiction, Sloopy was our water home and carried us to adventure in New England waters. Our boys, Scott and Ron, then 17 and 14 respectively, named her. A combination of the lovable Charles Schulz beagle, Snoopy and the two sail sloop design, the handle, Sloopy, stuck.
The time we spent on Sloopy was priceless. It took us away from a hectic lifestyle as owners of a popular photography studio to a world where time stood still. We enjoyed our sons and their friends without the distractions at home. Meals shared in the cockpit as the sun slipped into the sea are forever burned into memory. Lifelong friendships were forged with other boaters.
Sloopy is a Champion. In 1998, she won the National Catalina 30 Tall Rig Cruising Class race in Westbook, Connecticut.
Sadly, we sold Sloopy in 2002, but she continues to be the inspiration for the Liz Adams Mystery series. More to come.
Marilyn Dalla Valle 