Encouragement
Pat on the shoulder,
heartfelt, reassuring gaze…
Words superfluous!
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
Encouragement
Author / Cheryl Batavia
Hometown Parade
Hometown Parade
I’d like to stand again on a tree-lined street
on a sunny summer day
in nineteen fifty-six. My joy would be complete
when the high school band begins to play.
The majorettes in their tasseled boots,
little short skirts, and ponytailed hair
march and twirl amid claps and whoops
and toss their batons in the air.
The high school band marches along,
all spiffy uniforms and shiny brass,
playing a medly of marching songs.
The crowd applauds them as they pass.
Little kids march in place,
imitating the high school stars,
as mostly harmonious notes fade away,
we see big-finned convertible cars.
Chariots of small-town beauty queens
seated atop their mobile thrones,
regal in reds and blues and greens,
rhinestone tiaras and strapless gowns.
Poofey skirts spread like shimmering clouds,
queens smile ruby-lipped smiles and wave their hands
at the whistling, cheering crowds.
Then comes the mayor, his car equally grand.
Veterans of Korea and World War Two,
in uniforms of army, navy, and marines,
march behind the red, white, and blue.
Faded dreams of glory, memories of battle scenes.
The children in town are invited
to walk in the parade with their pets.
Children come down the street excited,
dogs wearing ribbons around their necks.
Farm wagon floats are dandy,
transformed by crepe paper festoons.
Business floats are throwing candy.
Church choirs sing patriotic tunes.
Jonah sits near a crepe paper whale,
a Forest Service float features Smokey Bear,
4-H kids perch on hay bales,
Historical tableaux are everywhere.
Shriners maneuver tiny cars around.
Arabian horses prance in fancy gear.
Volunteer firemen are the heroes of our town…
At last we hear a siren. The fire truck is here!
I’d like to listen again to a high school band
on a sunny summer day
with a cold, five-cent Coke in my hand.
Reliving nineteen fifty-six, I’d pass the time away!
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
A prayer, or: Pray’er
An abhanga
EPIGRAPH:
I make mistakes that may anger others. I too, am in need of understanding.
–‘I Would Be Angry, but…’ by Cheryl Batavia
Accept your finity,
also that of others ~
all imperfect brothers
~ need empathy
I Would Be Angry, but…
Old Chinese proverb: “Better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness.”
A traditional oil lamp, Photo by Prateek Gautam from Unsplash.
I Would Be Angry, but…
I would be angry, but…
those who are disagreeable
are acting out of their own frustrations
and unfortunate situations.
I would be angry, but
those who provide poor service
are acting out of their own incompetence
and may be doing their best.
I would be angry, but
those who execute unfair policies
are following orders from above
and live in fear of losing their jobs.
I would be angry, but
those who impose their beliefs on others
are misguided and unenlightened,
limited by their narrow view of the world.
I would be angry, but
those who take unfair advantage of others
are acting out of their own moral poverty,
likely to be hated and feared by others.
I would be angry, but
I myself am far from perfect.
I make mistakes that may anger others.
I too, am in need of understanding.
I would be angry, but
anger clouds my judgement,
diverts my attention and energy…
Better to calmly take considered action.
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
Fragrances & Flavors of Our Lives
Fragrances & Flavors of Our Lives
Flavors shape cultural identity
and turn the tides of history.
The Roman Empire, in its day,
issued salt as part of army pay.
Explorers in antiquity learned to subsist
on salted meat and salted fish.
Gandhi led a peaceful march to the sea
to evaporate seawater and set India free.
The Silk Road brought spices to Europe.
Christopher Columbus sailed in the hope
of finding a safer route to “The Indies”
to trade for pepper and other delicacies.
He was funded by Queen Isabella of Spain,
who did not sell her jewels in vain.
In the “New World,” where Columbus landed,
grew tobacco and cocoa, soon in demand.
Tobacco, wine, peyote… ceremonial provisions
used to negotiate peace and summon visions.
Coca leaves chewed for energy,
opium dreams to enhance creativity…
addictions to subjugate humanity.
Medicines to relieve pain and to restore health…
violence, illegal trade, and ill-gotten wealth.
Nature’s gifts come from Mother Earth.
How they are used determines their worth.
“Let food be thy medicine!” declared Hippocrates.
Since ancient times, food has fought disease.
Ginger and turmeric season our food,
ease pain and dyspepsia and thin blood.
Garlic, a worldwide perennial favorite,
has a multitude of health benefits.
Chilli peppers soothe pain and add heat to curries,
savory stir fries, and Texas chilli.
Sassafras is a tonic that flavors root beer, teas,
and file gumbo, pride of New Orleans.
Nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, and cardamon,
cozy flavors that remind us of home.
Home-cooked sweet memories,
a flavorful shield against disease:
Cilantro, rosemary, mint, and dill,
tarragon, oregano, and fennel,
basil, anise, lemon grass, and more…
These are a few of the herbs we adore.
Herbs and flowers smell enticingly sweet
and exquisitely flavor the foods we eat.
It is said that Cleopatra, legendary beauty,
favored fragrances made from patchouli.
Rose and jasmine fragrances, jasmine tea.
Orange blossom perfume, orange blossom honey.
Candied violets decorate fancy cakes.
Natstutiums in salad impart spicy taste.
Scents and flavors bring to mind
life experiences of every kind…
The people we’ve known, the places we’ve been,
culinary travels to lands unseen.
Condiments and their role in history.
Glimpses into the mysteries.
Teasing the palate, inspiring creativity…
All thanks to Mother Nature’s generosity.
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
To my fellow bloggers,
I continue fighting very slow, unresponsive emails even after updating my computer with Apple, and still need to check out the problem with our internet provider as well as WordPress. Our TV reception, on the same system, is also having problems. I am reading a few emails when I can between doctor and dentist appointments. Also, I am now the designated driver for both of us. I look forward to being back full-time on WordPress soon after Robert’s cataract surgery is completed in September. I hope life is treating you well.
All the best! ❤ Cheryl
A Peaceful Summer at Home, Haha!
Lawn Guy
Where are you, lawn guy?
The yard is a hayfield…
Please answer our calls.
You’re billing the month of June?
You only mowed once…Get real!
Roofers
Water on the floor…
Handyman-installed roof vent
invited rain in.
How much? !!! Can’t come for four weeks?
It’s hurricane season, man!
Do-It-Yourself
Did a bomb go off?
Cleaning up bushels of glass…
Shower door exploded!
Installing heavy new doors.
We’re getting too old for this!
Electricians
Dinner stopped cooking…
no power in the kitchen.
Extension cord rigged.
Mr. Sparky’s coming next week!
Anticipating huge bill!
Optometrist
Fully immunized,
Robert has his eye exam!
Glasses won’t help now.
Cataracts need surgery.
Research protocols, choose surgeon.
Doctors & Dentists, Oh My!
The older we get,
the more doctors and dentists
become a part of out lives.
We’re thankful they’re here for us,
but sometimes, enough’s enough!
Computer Technicians
Computer is slow…
Should I consult Apple Tech?
Yes, but not today.
One day I’ll feel energized
and deal with my computer.
House Guests
Family calling…
Pandemic is winding down.
When can they visit?
Not right now, but soon, we hope.
It seems like years and years!
The Two of Us
Looking at the ring
that sparkles on my finger,
I see the future.
With love and hope in our hearts,
we’ll get through this together!
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
Progress Report
This poem was written about why I decided to take a break! It may be a while before everything settles down and I am fully back on WordPress. When I get the computer up to speed, I look forward to reading and responding to more posts.
- The new lawn guy is great!
- Robert installed new shower doors a couple of weeks ago. I am still finding an occasional piece of broken glass.
- The electrician was here most of today, and the lanai kitchen, where most of our food is cooked, is fully operational.
- Robert has an appointment with a cataract surgeon at the end of the month. We don’t have a date for surgery yet.
- The roofers will be here next week. I hope we don’t get another tropical storm before they finish the repair!
- We have invited family groups to visit in the fall and early winter when Florida weather is nicest.
Happy Birthday, USA!
Happy Birthday, USA!
July 4, 1776 was the day delegates from the thirteen colonies signed the Declaration of Independence from England. Those who signed the document did so at great personal risk. The bloody American Revolution followed under the leadership of General George Washington, who later became the first president of the United States.
To celebrate Independence Day, Americans will fly flags, watch fireworks shows, sing patriotic songs, and tell the stories of our history. Cookouts and picnics are also traditional.
Today, though we are celebrating our country’s birthday, the Global Community is uppermost in my mind. We are suffering from a worldwide pandemic, wars, and widespread racism and violence. Environmental problems threaten all of us.
Today I would like to share song lyrics that express my thoughts about our Global Community.
This Is My Song
This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.
My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight, too and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.
May truth and freedom come to every nation;
may peace abound where strife has raged so long;
that each may seek to love and build together,
a world united, righting every wrong:
a world united in its love for freedom,
proclaiming peace together in one song.
Third stanza by Georgia Harkness. © 1964 Lorenz Publishing Company.
First and second stanzas by Lloyd Stone. © 1934, 1962 Lorenz Publishing Company.
To My Fellow Bloggers:
It has been very busy here. Nothing we can’t handle, but fatigue has set in, and a busy agenda still stretches in front of us. I am taking a break from WordPress and will miss all of you. ❤
All the best,
Cheryl
Perfect Partner, My Shadow
Perfect Partner, My Shadow
Lighthearted I dance,
lightly with spritely shadow.
Sunny June morning.
Perfect partner, my shadow…
always keeping pace with me.
Afternoon transforms
my shadow and me…giants
taking giant steps.
Perfect partner, my shadow…
always keeping pace with me.
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
Swallow-Tailed Kites
Swallow-Tailed Kites
Swallow-tailed kites,
silhouetted on blue sky,
shrill cries overhead.
Kites nest in the tall pine trees
along slow-flowing canals .
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
A flock of five loudly shrieking swallow-tailed kites flew by as I was sitting on the front porch one morning last week. Kites live in wetlands and along rivers and canals in the Southeastern US and Central and South America. They feed on lizards and other small reptiles. We live between two canals and there are vacant wooded lots with many pine trees across the street. I have seen individual kites there many times, but a flock of them flying by was a very exciting experience!
My Dad, My Hero
My Dad, My Hero
My father never had any sisters. He grew up a wild boy skipping school to swim in the creek and trap skunks. In high school he was a basketball star very popular with girls, several of whom wore his class ring on a chain around their necks. He was a skilled hunter and fisherman and helped put food on the table. From time to time, he worked in his father’s siding business. When World War II began, he lied about his age and joined the navy at seventeen. He was, I think, a “man’s man,” always more comfortable in the company of men than in the company of women.
My birth may have been a disappointment to my father, my being a girl. I was also a lot like my mother, with whom he had little in common…imaginative, creative, a lover of art, poetry, and music, uncoordinated and not very good at sports. Still, he was proud of me, ambitious for me, and he was my hero!
My brother was born two years after me, and when I was four, my sister was born. While my mother was in the hospital, I remember Dad trying to make Shirley Temple-style curls in my hair one Sunday morning. I remember his consternation when the ends stuck out at the bottom. I must have been quite a sight going to church with my hair looking like that!
My father’s first assignment as a minister was to three little country churches in Pennsylvania. While Mom went home with my younger brother and sister after the first Sunday service, I always continued on with Dad to the second service. I listened to every sermon three times, never tiring of my dad’s wonderful stories. I remember standing beside the piano when I was five and singing my first solo.
Visiting my grandparents when I was four or five, we went to the swimming pool in Wheeling, West Virginia. My father asked me if I would like to dive with him. With my arms tight around his neck and holding my breath, we went off the high dive together. My father was my hero!
When I was seven, I started piano lessons, which continued for nine years, although I had little musical talent. Eventually, I played the piano and antique pump organ at church when no one else was available. I wasn’t very good! I sang in the choir for years, often performing solos and duets. When I was eleven or twelve, I would put my hair up in a French twist and go with my father to hymn sings at neighboring churches. With my hair up, I thought I looked older and hoped people might mistake me for Dad’s wife. Of course, that was pretty silly!
Mom persuaded Dad to include his daughters, as well as his son on his hunting and fishing expeditions. Though I didn’t shoot, I enjoyed going with my father and our dog, Lady, to hunt quail, and I was always the one to prepare them for cooking. When we went fishing, I was usually the one to clean the fish.
One day, Dad took my brother, sister, and me to fish for bluegills in a farm pond. I got my line hopelessly tangled. Trying to break the line by pulling against my foot, I embedded a fish hook deep in the calf of my leg. My father cut it out with his pocket knife. I was very brave. “You are lucky I just sharpened my knife!” my father said. I still have a little purple scar on my leg.
When I was in high school, hunters sometimes stayed at our house. They would get up at four in the morning to go deer hunting with my father. I also got up early and fixed them a hearty breakfast. I enjoyed listening to their hunting stories and fish tales.
Like his mother, my father was a talented gardener. His huge garden helped to feed our family. I remember Dad teaching me how to plant beans and pull weeds. We all shelled peas, snapped beans, and husked corn. In the early years, my mother canned, but when I was about six, we got a large freezer, and my parents kept it full of vegetables from the garden and fish and meat my father brought home. My father also raised beautiful flowers that my mother and I enjoyed making into arrangements for home and church.
My mother was an excellent cook and baker. Mom turned the abundance from the garden into delicious meals and baked pies, cookies, and cakes. Dad had been a cook aboard a ship when he was in the navy and was always reminding us that the best chefs are men! When it came to preparing deer steak or frying trout, Dad often did that job.
Always the athlete, Dad never played a sport he didn’t like…darts, bowling, ice skating, roller skating, skiing, hiking, swimming, college football…When I was in high school, he used to outshoot teenagers on the church basketball court. My father, brother, and I got our Red Cross lifeguard certifications together. They scored higher in the water test than I did, and I scored higher on the written exam! In his seventies, Dad was still skating with the church youth group.
The youth group activity I enjoyed most when I was young was hiking in Shenandoah National Park.We would pile into the back of an old hearse and head for the mountains. After the hike, we enjoyed burgers and hot dogs cooked over wood coals and we roasted marshmallows.
One day, without my parents’ knowledge, I wore my bathing suit under my clothes. Our group hiked to the top of South River Falls, a tall waterfall with a pool in the middle that was reported to be bottomless. Many people have died walking near the waterfalls in the park. Luckily, I didn’t die. I just climbed down through the middle of the falls and swam in the pool at the bottom. Oddly, I don’t remember being punished for that episode. Maybe Dad saw himself in me that day!
On another hike, I walked through a yellow jackets’ nest. Swatting the bees as I ran, I knocked my glasses off. Days later, my father returned to the trail and found my glasses. Remarkable! My Hero!
When I was in high school, my parents’s marriage, always a mismatch, began to steadily deteriorate. Life at home was often unpleasant because of the conflict between my parents. Also, I found the restrictions imposed by my parents unbearable.
I had a brief, but very unfortunate experience at a religious boarding school. The repressive and malevolent attitudes and the rampant hyprocricy at the school made me question religion. I became an atheist at age thirteen. Though I continued to participate in church activities for many years, I think my parents were aware that I no longer accepted their beliefs. Stubborn and independent, as both of my parents were, I obeyed them for the most part, but was pretty outspoken with them about my views.
My father was as frustrated as I was, I think. He had trouble seeing me grow up and was reluctant to relinquish control. When I was seventeen, he did several things to me that were very hurtful. I think he later regretted his actions, although he never said that he was sorry. He was much less controlling with my younger sister as she grew up.
After their children were grown, my parents went through a very messy divorce. Dad and I both made efforts to maintain a relationship until the day he died, but I could never fit his mold. I always loved my father, and he loved me, but, like Humpty Dumpty, our family could never be put together again.
My father died at age seventy-five in 2004. I have many treasured memories of my dad and a few memories it took me years to forgive. Fulfilling his wishes, family members sang some of his favorite hymns at his funeral in a little country church where he was the pastor. My father had “died with his boots on!”
To all the fathers everywhere, you will never be perfect. Don’t stress over it. All any of us can do is our best! We love you. We will always love you!
My Father
Father,
human being,
excellent example
of many admirable skills:
great speaker and storyteller,
gardener, fisherman,
hunter, builder,
athlete!
Father,
good intentions
and high expectations.
He didn’t model compromise
or practice co-operation.
He focused on rules, not
relationships.
He tried.
Father,
childhood hero!
I was so proud of him,
and I know he was proud of me.
Though I could never fit his mold,
I always loved my dad,
and he loved me.
We tried.
Copyright© 2021 by Cheryl Batavia
❤ Happy Fathers Day! ❤
Gulf Coast Poet 