She stepped lightly across…
To the rhythm of her soul
In flowing prints of Amahni
Lightly scented Anais infused
In jeweled hues she lifts
A new sense of possibility
Her touch is redefining
Beautiful is how she lives
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
This poem is dedicated to my friend Andrea as she celebrates the anniversary of her birth.
Definable vision
Unbridled enthusiasm
Remarkably poised
Timeless beauty
Exuberance captured
An inspired woman at thirty eight
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Poem Written by Brenda L. Mccartney
Photographed by Yee Ting Kuit
My paternal grandmother always reminded me that I was a special child which means highly favored. The word special has varied meaning to me over the years; in the Bahamas when certain friends and family call me special it means silly. No I am not eccentric.
During Easter I stayed in a certain couple’s home, there was serenity in the atmosphere of their home. Shortly afterward I felt compelled to contact the couple, I spoke to them on several occasions thereafter but never physically met them. Sadly the husband passed away and the funeral service was held on my birthday, a few days ago. Yes, on my birthday. My friends and family members were very vocal on whether or not I should attend a funeral on my birthday given their view that he was not family.
To me this was my family as he represented so many things. Father Thaddeus Pratt dedicated his life to the honor and glory of God and has been a loving father and husband. He was married for fifty one years which is a glorious example of love and devotion. I am sure that is something we wish to emulate; Mrs Florence Pratt and I are in the same sister-hood. It was a sensible thing to do as it was a celebration of an extraordinary person’s life and co-incidentally mine.
There was a certain joy at his home going celebration. It reminded me of a feel for luxury; in terms of life’s accomplishments, achievements. It was a time to reflect, it gave me a challenge to carry on, it was a wake up call to do better and it reminded me to live life to the fullest and make the most of opportunities and time. I am no stranger to funerals after all, as my great grandfather died the day I was born, hence the reason why my grandmother calls me special.
This week marked another year of celebration. Are you taking note of the various accomplishments of your life? Are you truly grateful for even the minor endeavors of others?
Photographed by Brenda L. McCartney
I remember watching my then two year old serenade her grandfather, as he taught her to curtsy. She would read and sing to him as if she was beyond her years. He would talk to her as if he was speaking to an older child. They had a connection and her behavior around him was somewhat surreal. There are times she would cry, “I want to be with grandpa,” A few weeks after he passed away unexpectedly. At the repast she sat in the yard, where she spent so many times with him, with her hands under her chin. While sitting she shook her head and made an open hand gesture and said “Grandpa is gone.” This father’s day would be my husband’s first father’s day without his father but we know that he is with us in spirit. To paraphrase the poet, David Harkins ‘we can smile because he lives.’ We are full of the love he shared, we will cherish his memory and let him live on and we will open our eyes smile, love and go on. For those who facing this sweet sadness of a deceased father or grandfather cherish their memories because indeed they are living in our memory.
A Father’s issues tangle with life
Patchwork of sweet sadness
Weighted memories – fragile
Eclipse a strong sense of you
Connect with essence
Steadfast replay of moments
Reserve – vacant space
The familiar territory
An ideal crafted, enchants
Pure spirited
Infinitely charming
Rich and self contained
Things noticed in the dialogue of life
Engaging open and compressed
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Poem Written By Brenda L. McCartney
To all fathers Happy Father’s Day! Enrique my love, friend, husband and father of our beautiful daughter, Happy Father’s Day.
Photographed by G. Bowater
Untamed emotions
Weave into
Tantalizing anticipation
The lost of self
Beguiling between thoughts
Achingly perfect
Unfathomable beauty
Pink smiles of bougainvillea
Lofty clandestine escapes
Burst of brilliance
Heart soar embracing knotted secrets
Melting with inspiring pleasure
Under inky skies on shady terrace
Overlooking aquamarine seas
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Hugh Shurley
Swatches of our time
Flowed in and out
Braided with kept memories
Embedded expressions ravaged
Graceful provoking motions
Heart head and hand collude
A stream of consciousness
Collage timeless
-
Poem by Brenda L. McCartney
Ever since I can remember I have always loved books. I remember going to the library at school and I also remember waiting for the yellow mobile library to show up in the field above my primary school once a month on Thursdays. Both then and now, books have given me insights into other worlds.
In my home, my living room is set up as a library with works from my favorite authors whom tell my story and reflect my interests. I have always made it a practice not to give away or sell books even my text books from college and university. I am obsessive about this point. I loaned a psychology book to a friend in college and it has almost been twenty years but every time I see her I asked her for my book. No I am not a mean spirited. Let me explain the way I see it. As we know text books are revised all the time and that particular edition is special to me as I am familiar with it and can find exactly what I am looking for in it. I know my college textbooks very well. In college I never skipped a page as I read my books from cover to cover for fear of something that I might miss. As I get older I feel uncomfortable in loaning out my books any more because I have a phobia of my books not been returned.
There is a television commercial for the 2011 Kia Sorento. I always get excited when I see it as on the commercial books are everywhere even around a tree. To me it seems like paradise. The writer and essayist Jorge Luis Borges agrees with me, as he says “I had always imagined paradise as a kind of library.” I also always recall Carl Gustav Jung acknowledging in his book Memories, Dreams and Reflections that when he was growing up he had always like the idea of books but he did not read much. I guess most of us are like that to a certain degree. But as one notable person once said it is not how many books we have that is important but it is how many books we read. To me there are so many more books to read. Let us make a resolve to read at least one book a week or no less than a chapter a night.
Illustration taken from Stumble Upon
Recently, after reviewing a book I found the readers who gave the author one or two stars were her most trenchant critics because of the way she expressed her actions during her precocious youth.
In life we tend to get caught up in personalities and not the lessons we have learned. Our parents are usually our first role models no matter how bad we thought they were, they have taught us survival and forgiveness. I recall one of my friends when her adult son got mad and stormed out, she would laugh and say ‘boy I am your mother you will be back.’
For most of us we do not have a biological bond with celebrity role models so we cast them in the ‘ocean of forgetfulness’ and treat them like pariahs and scoff at the mere mentioned of their name when they act contrary to what we perceive should be right. I find that people get so upset when people they hold to a certain standard (Oprah, Obama, May Angelou, Tiger Woods, Jill Scott, Erykah Badu or anyone else they put on a pedestal) show themselves as flawed and fallible.
The question is who are the fickle ones? I once read some where: people come into our lives to bring us a gift or a lesson we need to learn. So my advice today is cherish the lessons you are given and forget the bitterness and criticisms. As Napoleon Hill puts it “Criticism will plant fear or resentment in the human heart but will not build love or affection.”
Photographed by Kenrock Well.
This poem is dedicated to all mothers
-
To-day’s your natal day;
Sweet flowers I bring:
Mother, accept, I pray
My offering.
And may you happy live,
And long us bless;
Receiving as you give
Great happiness.
-
Poem Written by Christina Rosetti
Image taken from dreamstime
We vied for your attention
You directed relentlessly
Coddle with ease
With a quiet grace you attract
With outstretched arms you welcome
Your presence was a present
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Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
© 2011 McCartney House
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