I'm a feisty, red head, with a very odd sense of humor. I love vodka martinis (desert dry, up - not over, lemon twist, please) and make wickedly good BBQ sauce. I've been married to my hubby for over 20 years.
I am a keeper of Ibizan Hounds and maker of suga sauce. I'm also a poet, photographer and digital artist.
I'm the survivor of a terrible car accident and a chronic pain patient. Creating helps me channel my frustration and provides a distraction from the pain.
Feel free to enjoy, if you'd like to share them, please send an email to me to get permission. Thank you!
All poetry and photographs on this blog are copywrite protected and the property of ThreeDogPeople or ThreeDogPeople Studios and their creator (me).
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Love with your Heart
You live your life backwards when you love with your head and think with your heart.
You live your life backwards when you think about getting healthy after you get sick.
You live your life backwards when you treat friends with respect only after they forgive you for hurting them.
You live your life backwards when you cherish your children only after they are grown and on their own.
You live your life backwards when you value your parents only after they are gone.
You live your life backwards when you die surrounded by family but spend your life alone.
Think with your head, Love with your heart. Cherish all those you love. Live forward.
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Metamorphosis
Baptize me in the water of creation
Baptize me in the fire of change
Baptize me in the blood of salvation
Baptize me just don't leave me the same
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Tick T o c k
How do you say goodbye, to someone (or something) that has spent their whole life giving joy?
Dog life winding down like a worn o u t
clock.
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Hugging Wisdom Goodbye
silken, soft fur delicate breath nuzzles on my shoulder sharing moments as life winds down
treasured instants velvety in the mist of dawn's light cuddles as gentle as newborn skin
my heart fills with the pleasure of love; a moment to be reverently visited for the rest of my life and for the rest of hers
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"hudlum" disguised word hiding its meaning from anyone in the -f- or -s- decades
street speak for doin' the crime defined by those out of step with today's time
we speak they don't listen they don't hear us
turn a blind eye so they don't see us
we scream they don't understand
we act they gasp they whisper afraid
they run hiding in their big ass houses behind their big ass gates surrounded by their dumb ass kind
afraid of the dark afraid of the young afraid of words they don't want .....to understand
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I don't understand the pacing of time when the good days fly and the hard days grind I think that God meant it for those who must leave to give time to those who eventually will grieve the suffering of those who are injured and ill gives them time to prepare - to say what they feel.
If the good days were to crawl by, we could etch every moment - not let them fly; then the hard days might hurry suffering could become vague and blurry. It's a trick of the mind to feel this way, I know that the minutes are the same every day.
One thousand four hundred forty four not a minute less, not a minute more. Every day is a gift but the passing of time can be a trial or something divine For now, the bad days drag, the good days speed it's all about stopping, watching and the memories we need.
