Showing posts with label # Connie D.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label # Connie D.. Show all posts

Saturday, October 22, 2016

Mohonk Preserve-A Love Song

Mohonk Preserve is my church,
a photographer's dream.

I return
to craft moments
capture memories
blaze trails
its pastoral beauty quiets my mind
lets my spirit soar
high above the sweaty rocks
glistening in the mid-day sun.

I return
to scramble
Giant’s Path
Rock Rift
Bonticue Crag.

I celebrate in the snakes
gliding through Duck Pond
while I sit and snack on wild blueberries.

I rejoice in Raptors posing on ledges
taking flight
watching us, watch them.

I witness the devotion
of my fellow hikers reflected in pools
beneath waterfalls
the cool mist as it soothes tired spirits
the wild beauty that surrounds us all.

I return to the land
to witness Spring’s
trillium erectum
wild ginger, bloodroot
all stalwart parishioners.

I return to the land
to cross Summer’s Rhododendron Bridge
disappear into a cloud of pink and white mountain laurel.

 I return to the land
to gaze at Autumn’s
red oak
mountain ash
sugar maple
leaves ablaze
red, orange and yellow,
to marvel at the revelation
without and within.

I return to the land
in Winter
to realize the glacial majesty
net the mirror images
and the light
always the light
in slow water and ice
in the footprints left behind
to find the divine in a frosty pine.

I return devout
week in and week out.
I return to plug in,
exult and give thanks.

I return.
I return.
I return.

©Cornelia DeDona 10-17-16

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Book Giveaway


    Goodreads Book Giveaway


        Hawaiian Time by Cornelia Dedona



          Hawaiian Time

          by Cornelia Dedona


            Giveaway ends June 21, 2016.
            See the giveaway details
            at Goodreads.

    Enter Giveaway

Sunday, October 25, 2015


was such a bloody bore
not cancerous
but a royal pain in the butt
I tried to quietly endure
Shush now Hilda.
The stress is almost over.

So dramatic
always gushing
apparently, she didn't have enough color in her diet
such a flood from one
so dehydrated.

In fact, Hilda refused to stop
her anal ways
felt attacked
when the doctor told her to cut back
on the ice-cream
groan, chocolate.

Poor damaged Hilda
so emphatic
cited the colonoscopy
as the final straw
causing her to spew
so profusely.
Doesn't she understand
that Doctor knows best
now he has to operate
to get her to stop
being so damned bloody.

I suppose the surgeon
and she will tie it together
giving her a chance
to sit pain-free
perhaps have Dr. Oz inspect her
bowel movements

enabling her to alter her condition

take new pride
in scribbling her S's.
Her flare-ups
soothed briefly
by the unflappable
Hazel, a witch,

who comes highly recommended.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Becoming Me

I am the half full cup
dark chocolate freak
sometimes friend to a bathroom scale.

I learn
that my obscurity is a good thing
that as I trip and fall
no one will see or care.

I am a notion,
a shadow,
a spot on the frame,

moving past old belief,
sometimes haunted,


I learn
that my existence is more
than filling your square pegs
coloring inside your lines
I am seeing
that you will never understand or care.

I deserve to move beyond the mess
I have become.

I have decided to heal myself,
love myself,
protect me at all times.
My eyes are wide open
my ears can hear
the snide careless whispers,
your thoughts when no one is near

I feel your doubt
it is the shroud of past judgments
wrong attitude.
I can taste your fear.
it is an acid that burns inside me
mutilating my mind.
secret places.

I existed before for your praise
as a child of a lesser god
but I am not less.
I am a miracle.
I am more than your dogma.
You do not define me.
I am free to speak
and I don’t have to make up lies
or explain me
because I am a strong woman
and I can do better.
I will not settle for your whims
your trickery
your reckless ways.

I will walk away whole
I will leave this place better
I will win
because I am not a quitter
because I know I can learn
that I will survive
I will thrive
because I deserve
to dream

I deserve my birthright
to become who I am meant to be
I will be me.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

American Lady Butterfly on Coreopsis

Spirit Mana

I hear them whisper
in the gentle trade winds
in the grunt of the wild
boar, the high-pitched mating call of the coqui.

I see them
in the blood moon
the double rainbow
in the mist against the folding
emerald cliffs of the Ko'olau.

I taste them
in the freshly caught pan fried mahi-mahi
a tropical papaya
tangy mango.

I smell them in
the white gardenia
the orange blossoms
the plumeria I place behind my ear.

I feel them buzzing
my ankles
scurrying sideways in the white sand
between the sharp coral
in the gentle rain.

They watch as I wait for you to return safely.

They watch the dogs chase
after wild chickens
the koi feed on fat
The bullfrogs sing.

They watch
They accept.
They smile.

They are here with me
the ‘Aumakua, guardian ancestors

rooted in the past, the first of their generations.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Three Monkeys

At a recent Word Cafe
pictures passed around the room are
designed to rouse our inner writer
briefly displaced
during the heady pursuit
of summer activities.

The picture I received
depicted three monkeys cutting hair.
I imagined myself in the barber’s chair
the lucky recipient of said haircut
and may I add fully conscious, trusting and completely insane.

Wary to See
Hear and
Speak No EVIL
about these darling monkeys, because I  like monkeys.

Also, being very superstitious

I have learned
from my past
not to let the unlicensed
whether human or monkey
anywhere near my delicate scalp.

Yeah, I let them cut my fucking hair.

However, suffering as I do from chronic stupidity
a condition passed down to me
from that anonymous side of the family
I tend to forget
life’s little lessons.

Consequently, my existence is a series of 50 first dates
and crooked bangs

each day beginning with
familiar strangers and events.
Each day rife with frustrations
such as
What was the Name of that Movie
that Author, and more to the point
Who the Fuck Am I
and Why Should You Care.

Ah, the writer’s life
hunting and pecking for the perfect juxtaposition
of meaning and metaphor.  In search of the highly distracted,
I want, I want, I want, audience,
the vulgar pay for a million hours of sweat, blood and bodily excrement.

I’m no movie star
nor am I a scientist
or even Georgio from Ancient Aliens
who sometimes looks, like a monkey
or an alien, with outrageous hair.

As Georgio says
it could be possible
that these monkeys
are the missing links
and really exceptional hairdressers.
I have to admit
it is plausible
but I am willing to risk being wrong.
After all
I have only one
token head of hair to give.

In the meantime 
I will try to maintain a positive outlook
so as to appear normal
to my loyal Friends and Facebook followers.

Since both of them
would be swayed
were it not for  my personal sacrifice,
the dedicated followers that they are,
they two might be tempted
to let monkeys cut their hair.

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