simple luxuries

Four objects. My grandmother’s side table, a tarnished silver jug, always- a bouquet of flowers, my mother’s oil painting. Simple luxuries.Simple Shabbiness

“I live in a world of yesterdays,” she said.

He smiled, “So do I.”

 

 

7 a.m.

It’s 7 a.m.

I sit in silence

Sip coffee and listen

As the world awakens

 

Silence

~ annie ryder 

Let’s

The Beach
~medium- pastel
Artist: Magdalene

go

Smelling of campfires and salt air

Where the beaches are littered

With empty bottles of Casa Sauvignon Blanc

Let us recite from worn books

On a bench of driftwood

Follow children to the sea

Dip our toes into water

Speak wild songs

Say anything or nothing

Blink at the sun

Feed seagulls

Toss stones

Fall into silence

Lean into doorways

Wander curio shops

They won’t last forever

 

Come on, let’s go

Leave your necktie on the floor

Miss all of our appointments

Please

Time is passing; the end is near

Fires and floods

Disasters- waiting to swallow us whole

Or are we empty?

Who will miss us?

When all that is left is an image on a photograph, a blurry negative

Hurry up

Before we disappear

 

 

The Clean-Up Man

Roy fumbled with the coins in his pocket. A single incandescent bulb lit up each table- top. The heat in the room glowed and a smoky haze veiled the guests. He peered deeper into the shrouded depths of the room.

Paper serviettes stacked the bar. Shot glasses lined up, topped to the max, the amber liquid ready to swallow. Next to an ice bucket, a hard-boiled bouncer stood sentry. Suffocating evidence, all compliments of the club.

A stream of light demanded Roy’s attention. The beam shot from the bar, stopped just short of his foot. His gaze followed the beam; back-lit by the mirror that covered the wall behind the bar.

A blonde in a tight black dress curved against a man. He saw the light bounce off the rock that hung at the base of her neck. He heard her familiar laugh and listened as the high, trilling notes fell like glitter over the men in the room.

Her eye was on the man known as Kid. One elbow high, black glove, held his back. Birdie.

 

The Club

What a damn, good night of gentlemen, whiskey shooters, and women wrapped in mink, it was. The boys dressed to the nines and the ladies, bespoke in jewels, were there to shine. The flowery scent of Chanel No.5 still lingered on his shirt. His mother had once denounced it as the “perfume of show girls.” He knew exactly how she’d feel about the scene. “Cards, liquor, debauchery,” she’d chirp.

 

Simple Style

Cinderella coveted

~ serve yourself

a tub tray. Therefore, she fashioned one.

You can do it, too.

Measure the width of your bath tub.

Salvage. She found a plank of discarded fencing, aged is better. Cut to desired length. Grab a belt sander (her favourite accessory) and sand off the slivers and lichen.

Apply one or two coats of White chalk paint ( Annie Sloan https://www.anniesloan.com).

Stencil a royal touch (she will find her crown).

Sand again.

Wax. (Annie Sloan Clear Chalkpaint Wax.)

~ fit for a Queen

 

my darling, may you live happily ever after”

A Revelation

It is six a.m.; the quietest time of day

It’s when I think of you

 

The light is softer

Cinematic and still, encouraging and lovely

Coaxing me to chase memories

 

I spent all these years waiting for a hero

And even in the most difficult chapters of my life, I believed

Someone else should hold the power

 

It is six a.m.; the quietest time of day

Silence reveals a beautiful Truth-

You have always had the strength to save yourself.

 

 

The Clean Up Man

As they headed toward the exit, Birdie * appeared. She leaned in, pressed her warm, sequined body against his hip. Whiskey sloshed as the ice in her glass glittered like diamonds. Her other hand pressed his shoulder. Words slipped from her lips, “I’ll talk to my mister.” She kissed his jaw. “Don’t worry, baby,” she whispered, before disappearing back into the smoky room.

~ scene from The Clean Up Man

Circa  1963

Simple Style

In the right light,

at the right time,

everything is extraordinary.”

~ Aaron Rose

~ eclipse 2017

~ softened light

Wonder

Pay attention, darling.

Pause in the slightest movements of the universe, the subtle nuances, the unexplained happenings that you call, “lose threads.”  Like a ball of tangled yarn, these very moments twist and turn, specific to you, alone.

Pay attention, darling.

Stand brave and alone at the crossroad of life. Stay unflinching on the page. Allow the truth of time to heal you. When tears fall like rain, know that the seeds of joy awaken to see you smile again.

 

Known as Athena, she holds a vessel of ancient wisdom, beyond that which we could ever know. Trust her vision for you.

Pay attention, darling.

Trust the journey you’re on

As she knits the story of a beautiful life.

 

 

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Give me a sentence. I'll write you a story.

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My books: https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM

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Written by Janine Clifton

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Martha Ann Kennedy's Blog, Copyright 2013-2017, all rights reserved to the author/artist

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