Month: May 2017

Hacking

Jeanne 2 Comments

No poem today. Last Friday I was “Hacked” while on my computer, and was dumb enough to fall for it. I’ve been paying ever since, and, just today got my computer back after having it cleaned and scanned and whatever they do. It will take me a long time to not feel stupid, especially with all the re-doing and organizing that needs to be done on my computer. I am so thankful to family members who stepped in and helped out and have me up and running again. We ought to have a ‘hacked anonymous’ support group where you go to have people tell you that you are an ok person! My spirits were lifted when a friend, after hearing my tragedy, said that he had heard that the smarter you are, the more likely that you will be hacked! Ha, I’d like to believe that! But it did make me feel good. Be careful out there. Don’t CALL microsoft to fix a computer problem when your computer freezes due to a pop-up…

check out this fake:

Forgotten Song

Jeanne 3 Comments

This has certainly been a time of an increased show of sentiment for Mothers! Family is such a powerful little group of people. Our happiness is so very tied up in the welfare of each member, and when we take the time to reflect on what we mean to each other, it is usually an emotional experience. I’m glad we take the time to do that. Being a mother is truly a supremely difficult job. My heart goes out to those who struggle with balancing family and job, and everything else that goes with life. I felt that conflict when my children were very young, and I struggled to become a song-writer.

The fleeting song was being passed from anxious heart to pen,
But the solitude was broken when chubby hands pressed in.
My thoughts were lost by curious whys.
Muffled chords were all I heard.
My toddler needed drinks and demanded an approving word.
And, in the end, I’m sad to say, the song was gone–
Unwritten and forgotten.
I felt a loss, as of a parting friend who gives no promise of return.
Perhaps the time just isn’t now for serene creative days.
No time to shape the feelings into prose or song today.
For now’s the time for gathering and storing feelings in the heart.
The day will come when silent days will release the pent-up song with uninterrupted art.
And I will talk of days gone by,
And wish for chubby hands now gone,
And miss the constant why and wheres that often stopped my song.
Oh may I see the season now as one for storing in,
That when the season comes to share, there may be something there.