Napo 7 - 2021 - Swordplay

My Grandaughter is learning
'the way of the sword'.
Swordplay, not modern fencing.
with its rules, and limitations.

Foil, Epee, and Sabre
can come later if she wants.
We'll find her a teacher
if she chooses to 'go formal'.

We use safe swords,
made from heavy foam pipe lagging.
She works off surplus energy
after being 'good' at school,
and develops 'combat awareness'
without it being spelt out.

Quarterstaff lessons, with real sticks,
are a more measured practice.
Training rather than fighting.

I teach her Medieval swordplay,
a boisterous mix of hack
and thrust, and stamping
on any sword too close to the ground.

When short fights tall the ankle-hack,
so obvious, is tempting,
but a four-limbed defender
turns it against the attacker.
Whatever works.
Baron Sable's pragmatic schooling.

I taught her a selection of parries,
and, once she learned deflection,
I taught her avoidance.
How a side-step makes you safe,
and opens up the other's defence.

It's already like fighting myself,
she absorbs it like a sponge.

But I kept catching her out
with one sneaky combination move.
More go than show,
practical rather than theatrical.

"Teach me how you do that."
I could hear her frustration.

"No, not this time, Pet.
Work it out for yourself.
Do an action replay in your mind
every time I catch you with it."

It's almost Judo-esque,
using their own strength
to defeat them

Last week she escaped a sword-lock,
cut away and under, sidestepped,
and nailed me. Hoist with my own petard ;-)
A sharp blade would have sliced,
deep into my ribs.

She was so pleased with herself,
and so was I.
Now I'll teach her not to rely on it.
I'm having to dig deep, re-finding
old skills and reflexes.

My line of warrior women
continues unbroken.

Gyppo

Day 7

locked in

early
despair relived
unsettles holy man
wheels turn to wrestle hidden truths
open

April 7

Boundaries

Our house arrangements are reversed
attached at the garages.
I peel potatoes at my sink. I can smell
she's cooking something with sesame and garlic.

We smile at one another while I pull weeds
and she waters her front yard flowers,
stop to exchange pleasantries at the mail boxes.

It's unspoken but we both know better
than to start acknowledging a shared presence
from our kitchen windows, yet it would be rude
to pull the blinds as if we are hiding something.

Napo 8 - 2021 - Fireplace.

When he betrayed her, repeatedly,
with a string of younger women,
she tried to kill herself.
She loved that man,
far more than he deserved.

When she recovered,
more quickly from the overdose
than from his betrayal,
she threw him out.
Got rid of all his stuff,

She finished some of his projects,
jobs around the house
he'd promised to do
but 'never had the time'.

She didn't need a man,
found she could paint walls
and un bung drains single-handed.
"Well, someone bloody has to."

I visited her a few times,
drank her coffee,
listened to her tales,
heard her stop blaming herself
and settle into her new life.

She finished off the fancy fireplace
with a rustic stone hearth
which he'd left half done.
It was a grand job.  Very sturdy.

And if I'd not seen him later,
walking around, unscathed,
I'd have always wondered
if he was entombed beneath it.

Gyppo

April 8

A Small Cabin Build There

Here's what I learned about pain:
I'd never been to the ocean
but I chose the place
on a bluff with surf breaking
on rocks below I'd seen in a movie.

I didn't go directly there:
started in the familiar stand of pines
from home, followed a dark path that led to
sun and wildflowers. I thought up
a hut of solid rock, rough on the outside
but inside, Persian rugs and candlelight.

Tucked in a corner by a sea-facing window,
wrapped in an afghan great aunt Selma
crocheted from soft wool yarn,
I could put up with almost anything.

Day 8

fated

daughter
of agony
heritage of heartbreak
ancestral perspective observes
the pledge

Napo 9 - 2021 - Symbolic Gestures

He was a grand one for gestures.
Way-markers on his life journey.
He buried his guns in the garden
and swore he'd never shoot again,
that his pot-hunting days were over.

But he prepared them first,
packed with grease inside and out,
'mothballed' rather than abandoned.

Secured in a gun case,
the wool lining also well oiled,
then several layers of polythene,
the entire package duct-taped
and heat sealed with a soldering iron.

With a small tree planted on top.
More symbolism?
Or an aide-memoir, just in case?

More 'bollocks' than symbolic?

He probably took a compass bearing as well.

Gyppo

Nice one, Gyp!

Day 9

gloom's grip

substance
smothered by doubts
heir questions integrity
understanding shared in silence
restores

Great Aunt Selma

The family called her a spinster (so sad).
The things that mattered to her were
the Swedish-American Lutheran church,
(she made me dresses and took me to Sunday school)
the YWCA (I went with her there
to lunch with lady friends who lived upstairs)
and me, the closest thing
to a daughter she would ever have.

She lived with grandmother,
kept to herself in her upstairs room
with the walk-in closet (treats for me
on the shelves) a dresser, single bed
(she'd crocheted the bedspread)

and an easy chair with big fat rolled arms
I sat on to watch her do needlework
and wait for her to read to me.

She died when I was five but I remember
the stars on her ceiling, miniature boxes
of Sun Maid raisins, fairy tales (East of the Sun and
West of the Moon) and her eyes because
she looked at me when I spoke
and thought before she answered.

East of the Sun and West of the Moon - Wikipedia

Thanks All. It's been a busy day. I'm posting this just so I don't break my streak. It's on the fly.

#6

Cement

Pain anchors me to the ocean floor.
I dance in the kelp forests
below the air I need to breathe.


~Deb
Tues, April 6, 2021

#7

Climbing Out

Went on a walk
- my old fitness route.
I gave up on fitness three months ago.
Curled up in a ball and stopped.
Locked up in a caged heart of obscurity.
Haziness felt like everything
and nothing at all.
Worthless.

I started slowly.
- only go halfway.
At least it's something.
The hill steeper than remembered.
No strength for the upward climb.
Energy nonexistent
until the scent of citrus blossoms
sparked endorphins.

Pleasant,
like heaven dripped in honey
or honey dripped with heaven.
I forged on, a third of the way,
two thirds – I'm almost to the top
Just do it. Finish the damn thing.

Mr. Red Breasted Robin greeted me
from a fence by a treehouse.
It reminded me of childhood
when we'd dream big dreams and pretend
to be grownups in a world where
everything would be okay.


~Deb
April 7, 2021

#8

My Blonde

Airport run, arrival.
Rush hour in Los Angeles.

Both sides of the 405 jammed
as far as the eye can see.

I was early so we both waited.
I, at the wrong airport.

When you live close to LAX
That is the go-to.

He said he told me, Burbank
but I don't recall hearing it.



~Deb

April 8, 2021

I was on an incredible journey last summer with my first ever experience on a real river in a kayak by myself. I loved it so much, I'm going to make it a yearly trip up to Montana. Two of my best friends and my former flight-attendant room mates have homes in the Flathead Valley. I spent six weeks up there from June 1st until after 4th of July.

There is so much to write about with this experience but what surprised me most...


#9

Bow Wow Wow

Flathead River Summer Solstice Float
North fork from the Canadian border
25 miles in two days to Polebridge.
16 boats, 35 humans, and 7 dogs.
Canines like hood ornaments
in life vests.

Ancient dogs, adolescent pups,
big dogs, little dogs,
rescue dogs,
hot dogs, beer dogs,
sunning dogs, wet dogs,
funny dogs.

River kings with attitude.
Head up, nose pointed at the bow.
Taking it all in
as if the day were theirs
while the humans navigated
and provided the manpower.

Ears flapping in the wind
over class I, II, and III rapids.
Easy going dogs,
ran that water like old pros
while I dog paddled
for my life in a ducky.


~Deb

April 9, 2021

9a

Extra Mile

Dermatologist appointment in So. Cal.
Skin cancer check.
"While we're at it, can you treat this rash again, Doc?"
What? Make a separate appointment?
Am I interrupting your day? Drove an hour to get here.
Insurance billed $175, I pay $25.
For what? A quick glance? Silently fired my doctor.
I guess if you aren't getting Botox, fillers, or implants,
you aren' t worth much time these days.


Gas stations were once called, service stations.
Fuel was pumped, windows washed, oil checked,
and sometimes, "Would you like me to check your tires, Ma'am?"
at no extra charge.
Service station attendants made minimum wage -
had nothing to gain by going that extra mile.
Young and weathered men
would scratch their heads, wiggle some belts, change a hose,
and just charge for parts, way back when service was golden.


~Deb
April 9, 2021

For my birthday, way back in December, I asked for an experience, rather than gifts. I finally got my wish on March 27th when we drove three hours up the coast to Moonstone Beach and stayed in more affordable, San Simeon, a few miles away for two days and a night.

9b - on a roll

Labor of Love

Build our own beach hut, Mom's quest for the day.
We mapped out a square in the sand
large enough to comfortably fit
a party of six, for three grown boys and me.
Using entrenched trunks for foundations on three walls,
it quickly transformed it into a hexagon.

Hunted among wreckage of bleached white wood
for the perfect lengths and shapes.
Made use of natural digging tools
and one giant, abandoned, red sand bucket
to dig deep and plant sturdy support posts,
one in the center and four for each wall.

On the boardwalk from the cliff above,
people stopped and watched,
admired the fortitude,
or wondered what kind of nuts we were.
Several commented on what an ambitious task
we had undertaken and how "Cool" it looked as it took form.

The front door was an arch of two opposing,
carefully placed tree remnants, each with branches
that reached a natural peak to allow head room when bent to enter.
We added a stick fence and decorated the entrance with
a great, heavy, ancient pinecone, a bench for two,
and a few fragments of dried-up seaweed bulbs.

A couple of older kids, brothers, I think, played
close by, keeping their eyes on the prize,
waiting for our inevitable departure.
A man with two small children
barged in without a word to take snap-shots
while facetiming a woman. An odd occurrence on any day.

In three and a half hours, we built our own Air-BnB
from driftwood on the beach –
a collaboration of fun and determination.
We couldn't stay to use it but drove away deeply satisfied.
I'm certain we built the best shoreline hut
on any beach in California that day.


~Deb
April 9th, 2021