Showing posts with label Karen O’Leary. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Karen O’Leary. Show all posts

Percussion’s Perspective: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary

the kettledrum rumbles
interrupted by crashing cymbals
meter set by the base
pulse claimed by a snare solo
then the xylophone’s melody
grabs center stage
with handbells harmony
for a softer sound

—a pause—

ending with chimes
drifting into a hush
in awe, the crowd rises
for a standing ovation

When Two Meet

Karen O’Leary
Thin
dirty 
street urchin—
his gaze locks hers.
Bearing a sandwich,
she points to a park bench.
He snarfs down her offering.
“My step beat me and kicked me out.
You’re the lady from the soup kitchen.”
“Your step beat your mom. She’s dead… He’s in jail…
He’s been charged with murder with no bail.”
The teen paled, staring in silence. 
“I’m so glad to have found you.
I am a foster mom.
Please come home with me.
We’ll work things out
together.”
Today’s
hope.

Glossary of a Writer: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary
artist – opens the soul
cadence – setting the beat
creator – discovering freshness
editor – cutting and pasting
freedom – casting off limits
idealist – riding a rainbow
inspired – words flowing
journey – path to new horizons
mountain – hill worth climbing
mystery – discovering joy
pilgrim – charting a new path
poet – finding the flow
puzzle – solving the impossible
sailing – alive and free
soar – bursting with life
sparkle – bit of pixie dust
vision – joy to be discovered
whirlwind – grasping stars
wings – daring to dream
***

grandma’s attic: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary
snooping & sniffling—
years piled up in
grandma’s dusty haven

grandma giggles
as she hears them
through the heating duct

“wow!” one daughter 
shares an antique bowl
with her twin sister

grandma tip toes
over to the staircase
and flips the lock

“look at this!” the twin
holds up a 1920’s
fringed flapper dress

gran’ is doubled
over in full fledged
laughing mode

“what was that?”
she walks over to
check the door

“gotcha” gran’ lets
them out. “we thought
you were gone”

“surprise! what gives
you the right to go
through my things”

her daughters 
hang their heads. 
“sorry mom”
***

Karen O’Leary is a freelance writer from West Fargo, ND. She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including, Hedgerow, Haikuniverse, Frogpond, Setu, Fine Lines, Shot Glass Journal and Quill & Parchment. Karen edited an international online journal called Whispers whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com/ for 5 ½ years. She enjoys sharing the gift of words.


Reunion: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary
Lone
wolf’s howl.
Can it be
El Lobo’s call?
Poachers chased the wolves
away, many travelled
safely to a large wildlife
refuge twenty-five miles away.
I open the back patio door
and drop into a chair as El Lobo
bounds up the stairs. We embrace then he tucks
his head in my lap. I scratch behind
his ears then rub his layered fur.
He lifts his head then eases
toward his family (mate
and two six-month-old
pups.) I pet each
then they leave,
one in
hope.

The Shack: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary
Long ago, it sported
forest green paint.
Its weathered wood
is drab and dreary.
It’s main floor windows
are bordered up in
a haphazard way.

Unlocked back door…

Entering, the pilgrim
is stunned and silent.
There are leather
furnishings with light
turquoise walls. One
wall displays rich
wallpaper, joining colors
of the room in modern
graphic design. Wow!

The kitchen has stainless
steel appliances with
a welcome sign on table.
Opening the fridge 
he finds it fully stocked
as is the pantry. He sets
his backpack on the floor
then grabs a diet coke.

Other welcoming art, 
a bathroom and bedroom
round out the first floor.
The loft features two 
windows, a quilt of navy
and white and towels are 
at the end of the bed.
It has a breezy sea,
d├йcor calling his name.

After a quick shower
he tosses a pasta meal
in the microwave. 
What a haven for weary
travelers. He would tidy 
things up in the morning
but for tonight he will
rest his weary body,
thankful for this gift.

Poetry: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary
Adieu

he slides into
the booth late—
my coffee is cold
the orders brandy
downs it in one gulp

smiling tells her
the joy of getting
together, then stands,
slaps a 20 on the table
“till next time”

“next time”
his five minutes
not worth my time
it is the season
of letting go

Angel in the Wilderness

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary


A rescued child
Near death
Getting nutrient supplements
Extremely delicate
Lifeline…

Internal struggle
not knowing the legalities

Trying to keep 
Her out of foster care
Emergency privileges granted

Wading through red tape
In family services
Lost child not found
DNA without matches
Elusive identity
Red tape of adoption
Nearly denied by a judge 
Even though the couple
Shares in the desire…
She becomes Grace, their girl

Soulmates: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary
El
Lobo,
lone crooner,
serenades me
from Wolf Hill each night.
People heap blame on him
for lost chickens, dead kittens
plus, other predatory crimes.
I attest that his shadow stays with me
on that hill each shared night two miles away.
We met a year ago on Pine Cone Trail.
He moaned, guarding his mate as her blood
seeped from a hole in her right flank.
I sat, knowing his sorrow.
Inching forward in bits,
our eyes locked in trust.
He laid his head
on my lap,
one in
loss.

Poetry: Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary


Weaving Wonder

willows
whisper~~
waving
in the wind
winning the heart
of a wee girl…
now, a woman
memories waft
while weeping
willows
whisper
wonders
_________________


neuropathy…

without pain medication
his wine list expands

he boards a vintage bus
for a taste testing tour
_________________

Seasons Change

red and yellow leaves
dance in the wind
I yearn to dance
    with them


…it is another season
…another time


the losses mount up
as my health declines


Still, I’m blessed
to have faith, family
and friends that pray
for and encourage me.
_________________

A Place Called Home

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary


 “Did you say West Fargo, North Dakota?  Glad I don’t live in that frozen tundra, a half century behind the rest of the country.”  The Virginian rolled his eyes.

********

All right, the scenario is a bit exaggerated, but people do have the tendency to think of the state as backwards in many ways.  I say it isn’t so.  We have iPods, cell phones, computers, and other modern gadgets that are wrought with their modern-day problems.
We drive cars not horse drawn carriages.  In fact, few of my neighbors can afford a horse, board, and vet bills--not to mention a saddle and other riding gear.  Most are middle class families, many whom have been challenged in these economic times.


Nestled along her bigger sister, Fargo, West Fargo has a population of about 36,000 and is one of the fastest growing cities in North Dakota.  It is a 14.72 square mile (38.12 km2) community of mixed heritage tucked in the Red River Valley. West Fargo was founded in 1926.
West Fargo citizens enjoy clean air and the freedom to step outside at midnight without fear of being mugged. Churches have expanded and added editions.  Work ethic and Midwestern values continue to flourish.  Many neighbors can cross yards without fences.
We are city of many cultures, welcoming refugees. Walking down the side walks around our home, I feel blessed to see different races getting along and greeting each other. A woman from Africa had a beautiful brightly-dress along with coordinating head scarf in church. I was able to share how much I loved the outfit before her family whisked her away.


“We have a higher calling” Fargo Forum article and above photo. The newly built facility will be a 30-unit complex in West Fargo is to help homeless families and individuals into permanent living apartments, places to call home. The refrigerator has I note by a 7-year-old saying, “Welcome to a fun life.” I’m proud that Grace Gardens is a part of what our community is about.
Winters can get ugly with below zero temperatures and white-out blizzards.  Sunny California looks mighty tempting at times in mid-January.  Then I remember spring is just around the corner with its green grass and flowers.  It gives me pause to
smile.


Welcome sign, I designed outside our side entrance to our home.  We hope it conveys the warmth that comes from within.

My husband and I started our lives as newlyweds here in 1983.  We raised two daughters in safety and security.  Our lifestyle is honest and comfortable. God has blessed us with riches that cannot be measured with dollars.  I am grateful for this place we call home.

In Essence…

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary


The barren trees frosted
with nature’s crystals
give the polar landscape
an artistic view.
The grove’s large boughs
support icicles, each unique.
They tinkle and sway
in the afternoon gale…
the tableau of innocence.

Setu, November 2018

Celebration of Local: A Place Called Home

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary 

            “Did you say West Fargo, North Dakota?  Glad I don’t live in that frozen tundra, a half century behind the rest of the country.”  The Virginian rolled his eyes.
********

            All right, the scenario is a bit exaggerated, but people do have the tendency to think of the state as backwards in many ways.  I say it isn’t so.  We have iPods, cell phones, computers, and other modern gadgets that are wrought with their modern-day problems.

            We drive cars not horse drawn carriages.  In fact, few of my neighbors can afford a horse, board, and vet bills--not to mention a saddle and other riding gear.  Most are middle class families, many whom have been challenged in these economic times.

            Nestled along her bigger sister, Fargo, West Fargo has a population of about 36,000 and is one of the fastest growing cities in North Dakota.  It is a 14.72 square mile (38.12 km2) community of mixed heritage tucked in the Red River Valley. West Fargo was founded in 1926.

            West Fargo citizens enjoy clean air and the freedom to step outside at midnight without fear of being mugged. Churches have expanded and added editions.  Work ethic and Midwestern values continue to flourish.  Many neighbors can cross yards without fences.

            Winters can get ugly with below zero temperatures and white-out blizzards.  Sunny California looks mighty tempting at times in mid-January.  Then, I remember spring is just around the corner with its green grass and flowers.  It gives me pause to smile.

            My husband and I started our lives as newlyweds here in 1983.  We raised two daughters in safety and security.  Our lifestyle is honest and comfortable.  God has blessed us with riches that cannot be measured with dollars.  I am grateful for this place we call home.

Karen O’Leary is a writer and editor from West Fargo, ND. She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including, Frogpond, A Hundred Gourds, bear creek haiku, Shemom, Creative Inspirations and NeverEnding Story. She edited an international online journal called Whispershttp://whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com/ for 5 ½ years. She enjoys sharing the gift of words.

bricklayer

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary 

walls built
to last…

he talks
with his hands

silence born
of pain

▄▄ ▄▄ ▄▄

he passes
his craft

the only life
he knows

to his daughter

▄▄ ▄▄ ▄▄

she becomes…
a bricklayer

but can reach
out to others too

Special: Three Poems by Karen O' Leary

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary 

Night’s Raid

bomb
blasts!!
hands spring
to her ears
unable to shut
out the scattered limbs of loved ones…
haunting screams rewind…
the nightly
horrors
blaze
on
______________
words whisper
singeing my soul…
I wake up chilled
that my past
still haunts me
_______________

Grandma’s House

hurt…
the loneliness,
lives forgotten,
speeding down
the road of life--
collecting dollars
instead of loving
friends…
hurt…
the loneliness
in home once loved
left in decay…
forgotten…

Sunset at Valley Resort

Karen O’Leary
the allure of romance
by an expansive stone
fireplace sipping wine,
cozy in the chalet’s lobby
lured most of their party
as snowflakes set in,
the adventurous and “cool”
crowd opted to challenge
the slopes before the storm,
chiding their “weak” comrades
a gal sashayed into the room
with a designer teal ski
ensemble…she engaged
the football star’s attention,
elevating her status
the horizon darkened,
and the winds howled,
a wall of white an hour
later…everyone safe
except for the gal in teal

Yuletide Hope

By Karen O’Leary
Karen O’Leary
I pushed Dad
in his wheelchair
to the lounge to hear
Stanton’s Christmas
Choir Cantata.

Dad and I always
shared the love
of music.  A stroke
left him paralyzed,
in a mute world.

“Please Lord send
us a Christmas miracle.”
Half way through
the program singing,
Joy to the World, Dad
tapped with one
finger on his knee.

I reached out my finger
and Dad wrapped
his around mine,
just like when I
was a little girl.

We were connected
in our hearts.  I could
feel him once again.
With Silent Night,
we were both in tears.
 Bio: Karen O’Leary is a writer and editor from West Fargo, ND.  She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including, Frogpond, A Hundred Gourds, Haiku Pix, bear creek haiku, Shemom, Creative Inspirations and NeverEnding Story. She edits an online journal called Whispers http://whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com/ She enjoys sharing the gift of words.

Tanka by Karen O’Leary

Karen O' Leary
the tornado                                                                
stripped the old oak…
the little boy
tucks a lone acorn
in his pocket
_________

gravel road
overrun with weeds
smokes leaks
from the ashes…
my childhood home
_________

a lone teen                                                                
sits on the vacant shore
tears falling—
inside his dad’s slurred words
toast another round

Karen O’Leary

Karen O’Leary is a writer and editor from West Fargo, ND (USA).  She has published poetry, short stories, and articles in a variety of venues including, Frogpond, A Hundred Gourds, Haiku Pix, bear creek haiku, Now This: Contemporary Poems of Beginnings, Renewals and Firsts, Creative Inspirations, and cattails.  She has published two poetry books--Whispers and an anthology called Snippets.  She edited Whispers, an online poetry journal, for four years.

Karen published Whispers, an international E-zine for 5 1/2 years and closed for new submissions in June 2018. The journal will remain open for reading and comments.