Author: jackiella

After six weeks of pain in my knee and getting physical therapy, rubbing strong-smelling ointment on it, icing and heating in tandem, I find that my knee has a fracture in it. I'll bet the ointment really helped that!. So now I have a walker and am supposed to stay off of my leg--no weight… Continue reading Some Thoughts on Aging

The rain and sweet smell of cut grass remind me of mornings when I was a child, waking up with my window open––staying in bed while the law mowers started up, kids began to slip outside after breakfast to play. Sometimes Toby, our yellow cat, would return from his midnight travels and visit me in… Continue reading Remembering my Childhood Days

Virginia Woolf promised it would make life bearable, but it didn't do much for Virginia––she walked into the sea years after having many rooms to herself. Or Sylvia Plath, who was always "better," but ended up in the oven anyway. Some might say that I have an entire house to myself. My son sleeps all… Continue reading Where is That Room of My Own?

WARNING: This is a very boring blog tonight; it's four a.m. and I can't sleep so am just blogging to do something. I would suggest you skip it.If it's not the cats, it"s me. My right knee is acting up again––swollen, sore, unable to put any weight on it at all. I didn't injure it… Continue reading Just Meandering

  This is an update on the saga of the cats. Oh, they are still not friends, but Jake is getting bored with being in the living room all the time he's not in his cupboard so is getting bolder. He now jumps down without checking for Simon, so there is a bit more running… Continue reading They Are So Innocent When They Sleep

Most of you who follow my blog, have experienced the same heat spell as the rest of us. Consecutive days in the 90s and high humidity. The farmers are in trouble, both the ones who farm corn and the ones that have cattle for meat and the farmers who grow wheat. Facing a winter of… Continue reading If It’s 99, Why Not 100 and Make it Worth Talking About

If I am an architect of poems, why do I find words like “weed wackerstone,” so hysterically funny? The many references I could make to that typographical error are endless.   I’m giddy, I’m swollen with joy as I contemplate writing a poem with a hero named thus, or the town barber, or the small-town… Continue reading Writing a Poem

I just read of a mega-tsunami in Lituya Bay in Alaska in 1958 that calculated the wave to be higher than the Empire State Building. This is the stuff that makes movies today, disaster films for our entertainment, nothing real, asteroids crashing into the ocean and engulfing the coastal cities. This must have been like that, the three little boats… Continue reading How Silly to Think We Control our Own Destinies

Painting Hiroshima - August 6, 1945 When I was a brush, a crude-tufted, rough brush,I pulled myself around the sky, painting mushroom cloudsand streaks of fire. On the ground I spilled chemicals to burn the skin.But if I could go back to August 5, I would beginby painting over the Enola Gay with sky-blue paint and dreamy white cumulous… Continue reading Another Peace poem

"No one will burn kittens or slap little boys or make little girls cry" David Hilton, “In Praise of Bic Pens” The State of the World If only this were true! but two little girls were shot last week, six years old. Little boys carry dope in their backpacks so they can sell to kids who trade their lunch money for… Continue reading The State of the World