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My writing hand, has got a cramp
As Arthritis causes, my thumb to clamp
And my writing becomes, more like a squiggle,
With not much room, for a wiggle.

I think not, of what I am.
I think not, of what I'll be.
I think that, I will never know,
Until my eternal soul, is set free.

Oh God, please stop, let me be.
Every night, I still pray to thee.
For my prayers, for cure and salvation,
Result in the end of life's aberration.

Do you think me daft, sitting here,
Writing about my love and fear,
Of things in life, that I revere
And of those things, that are dear?
To me, my Sisters and my Brothers,
That makes a family, for all others.

To cheer a team, for good reason,
It must be good, old, football season.
No matter what team, for which you cheer,
Sometimes you may, just need a beer.

Our talks of late, are quite hazy,
On some occasion, they are almost crazy.
I know that you must, think I'm lazy,
But please know, that you're not Miss Daisy.

I stopped to see you, it was yesterday.
Someone told me, you had moved away.
That surprised me so, to hear them say,
As you didn't leave me, a place to stay.

These words that ring, within my head,
Are sometime only, filled with dread
Of not knowing what spews on to paper.
They may be solid or perhaps vapor,
So I write them down, and yet,
I will get, what I will get.

Parklane Gallery October Featured Artists

Adrienne Anderson-Smith, digital artist of the Northwest, Emmy nominated, shows “Let’s Rock the World!” featuring whimsical “walls” of rock faces, displaying a wonderful mélange of our culture. Her art is created with the sculpted texture of acrylic molding and crackling pastes or digitally created with ProCreate(r) and finished with Adobe Photoshop.

Forrest Goldade presents “Northwest Impressions” His work in both acrylic and watercolor is loose and colorful. His style evokes “realistic Impressionism” that explores themes of northwest animals and landscapes. A graduate of Western Washington, Bellingham, his work is influenced by the paintings of Morris Graves and other Northwest artists.

He sits there, with all the dread,
Wandering around, his cluttered head,
He would do best, to move again,
Far away from, these thoughts of pain.
I can no longer, speak for him,
For the thoughts he has, are grim.

That look of love, from your eyes,
As you hear, the newborns cries,
Creates that special bond, for another
And is the name for you, Mother.
Congratulations on this day of joy,
You have a girl for you to enjoy.

The crispy mornings, with dew on grass,
With a soft fog, draping the trees,
To walk the paths, by ponds of glass,
Is enough reverence, for you to seize,
That golf club, with which you play,
As the Sunrise, brightens up the day.