My Thoughts · Nature · poetry

Nature Speaks Through Poetry

Nature speaks through poetry—a tree, a butterfly, and a blackbird! Sometimes gently, other times it screams at me, in a loud attention-getting voice I have to listen to! Notice me, it says! Here’s a poem I wrote about that topic. Enjoy!

Along the Way, Nature Screams at Me!

May 1995

Along the way, nature screams at me—

look and see me here—

A butterfly, orange and black

dancing in a circle

sucking sweet nectar and life.

A red rock half buried

but screaming at me to see

its bright color,

its lasting character.

A woodpecker pecking hard

at life.

A pine cone, dry and brittle

once the hope of new life.

A stick, simple

dry and cracked

wanting to be noticed–

to be touched and admired.

A bone—life given up

dry and bleached.

A coyote, killed its prey,

cleaned it of meat and                                                   

sustenance.

#

Artifacts, pieces of life

things here in the woods

no value

trash to some people,

but to me–

life as it is–

colorful, dry and lifeless at

times, yet teeming with life.

#

Tall trees bow to the earth,

the weight of their existence

dragging them down,

the pain,

the misery,

closer and closer to the earth,

mother earth

who nurtures and gives life.

A silent stance of prayer

of renewal, commitment

yet deadly–pulling

the life out of them–

pulling, dragging, relentlessly

and death

a cycle of life

strength and overkill

too much though

much like life.

The light through the trees,

shines bright,

but it’s the shadows that call me.

The long profile of trees melt into one

and shadows take over–

dim, dark, cool,

blackening the view.

Like feet the roots of a tree grow down–

supporting and balancing its

tall counterpart.

Sounds abound

the quiet, gentle breeze whispers

come see, come hear, come listen.

#

A pesky fly bothers me–

at my elbow, my thigh,

my wrist, my ear,

my hair

buzzing, circling,

demanding then gone.

The sun peeks through the top of the tree

Just a minute ago shining full force

on me.

Now only a hint–like a light slowly

going out.

A mosquito bite on my hip itches,

demanding attention and care.

Bird racket echoes in the quiet–

someone’s not happy.

She’s demanding her way.

Her children are late in coming home,

and she wants her male partner to form

a search crew. He refuses to listen, so

she continues to screech.

Wind, swaying the tops of the trees,

in a gentle rhythm to and fro–

a soft hand moving through them.

The sound is gentle yet strong.

A power moves them

but only the tops.

Pine cone, rock, bone, tree

connected to life and earth.

All a product of–

laying there ready to be seen.

#

Energized with power and strength.

Self-confident and knowing who you are–

but what about  the trees

no question,

no doubt.

Strength connected to your creator.

The busy insane life I left

melts into peace and serenity.

I want to be a tree,

standing firm in a forest,

serenaded by the birds, bees, insects,

the rocks and leaves.

The serenade of the forest–

a tune that ears can’t hear–

easily.

Yes, you can hear the birds

the dirt,

the grass,

the leaves.

#

A sweet melody of love,

dependence,

self-worth

assurance.

A jazz beat, a samba, a slow luxurious waltz.

All these sounds unite in nature

and play if you’re listening,

not with your ears,

with your heart!

The smells touch me–fresh and clean and green.

Not artificial, contrived,

but powerful,

new

exciting!

Life-giving

alive

renewed

a sharp contrast.

Deep meaning–

This is peace–

this is serenity!

Void of structure

calm

letting my heart listen,

receive the message

and  alter my negative energy!

I feel it–

I’m being altered

right now.

The lump in my throat is gone,

that anxious twitch in my stomach

that dry, cotton mouth

the urge to run and do something–

gone!!

Nature heals,

but I have to be here,

sitting outside

away from cities,

demands,

chores!!

And I have to leave that behind!

Then nature heals!!


Nature screams at me sometimes igniting my soul. I must listen. And poetry comes out!


News, News, News!

Just Another Square Dance Caller meme - nature
Grab a cup of coffee and enjoy Flippo!

~FREE TO YOU! A Fifty minute audio recording of “Highlights of My Conversations with Flippo.” Learn how he started calling, how he recorded “The Auctioneer,” and a bonus: which caller did he sleep with? Click here for easy access!

family · God · My Thoughts

Parents’ Death: Tough Topic #1—Dread?

Parents and family - parents' death

For years, my parents’ death loomed in front of me as they aged. I dreaded losing them and wondered how I would cope. I had intricately woven my life into theirs, never living over four hours away.

It’s been almost ten years since losing Mom and twenty-six in losing Dad. The pain has subsided but never goes away. Here’s how I have coped.

In 2017, a few years after Mom’s death, I wrote a book, A Time to Grow Up: A Daughter’s Grief Memoir, dealing with my grief over the loss of both parents, and how I handled each differently.

These excerpts from my book show the difference in how I handled their two deaths.

Dad and me dancing at his 75th birthday party. Parents' death
Dad and me dancing at his 75th birthday party.

Dad’s Death

“On January 6, 1996, my dad died. Losing my first parent left me reeling. This loss changed my life forever. At Dad’s death, I was eight years sober. I had feared his death for years because of our close relationship. How could I survive without him? I wondered.”

A Time to Grow Up: A Daughter's Grief Memoir meme. Parents' death

Larada Horner-Miller, A Time to Grow Up: A Daughter’s Grief Memoir, (2017): xvi.

When my dad died, I didn’t write poetry to get clarity, to heal myself, or to see the events of my life as a part of my process. I wrote but not to deal with my loss.

I focused on Mom—that’s what I did, and I danced and worked.

We talked often about Dad, our loss, and our grief. I realized these conversations were important for both of us to heal. I learned that from her and relished her wisdom—I listened. Her tender care of herself demonstrated to me how to do this mysterious thing so many don’t understand how to do: grieve.

Time healed Mom. She managed her grief and lived seventeen years without Dad, in relative comfort and happiness.

I wanted that for myself when she passed.

Larada Horner-Miller, A Time to Grow Up: A Daughter’s Grief Memoir, (2017): 11.
Mom and me in one of our Christmas outfits bought by Dad. Parents' death
Mom and me in one of our Christmas outfits bought by Dad.

Mom’s Death

On March 23, 2013, Mom died, but this time was different and so very difficult. Both my parents were now gone, and I felt alone, an “adult orphan.” My recovery and faith in my Higher Power helped me survive losing her, but my major relief came through writing—I wrote poetry and lots of it. When I wrote a poem, tears of relief flooded me—a major healing tool. I read them to my therapist, and she cried with me. One particular night, she asked me to publish them so her daughters could read them after she died.

It also helped that I was older and more aware of my personal means of handling life’s hard knocks. I had seventeen more years in recovery and had learned more about grief in watching Mom and how she handled the loss of her beloved husband of forty-three years.

Relief also came from new activities that unfolded in my search for healing and in many familiar activities I had done for years.

Larada Horner-Miller, A Time to Grow Up: A Daughter’s Grief Memoir, (2017): xvii, xviii.

Resources In This Book

As I wrestled with what I wanted to share in this book, my teacher-side came out and I added appendices galore to help the struggling wounded hearts who read this book deal with their grief.

The appendices I included are:

  • Appendix A—It’s a God thing!
    • I listed the many God incidents that occurred during those three months from Mom getting sick and dying:
  • Appendix B—Activities I did
    • I listed the activities I did after Mom died. Notice I focused on grief, but mostly the activities were a part of my normal life.
  • Appendix C—Books and websites that were helpful to me
  • Appendix D—Workbook
    • Healing from grief requires active participation if you want to get past the pain and the loss to the other side—to thrive more than just survive. I listed a few questions and activities to get the juices flowing after reading this book.

Finally,

In a unique twist, I didn’t write when Dad died—I focused on Mom. I wrote poetry and prose when Mom died. After Mom’s death, the poetry came in torrential waves! With every outpouring, more and more of me healed.

We must face our parents’ death—it is inevitable, but how we handle it is our choice. Originally, the title for this book was “I Grew Up to Be the Woman I Always Wanted to Be,” but that didn’t go with the subject, so I changed it. I wrote a poem with that title and will leave you with it by downloading it. (Download here!)

Have you lost a parent? Both parents? If both, do you feel like an adult orphan? How did you handle the loss?


News, News, News!

Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better?
Read, reflect and respond!

~I heard yesterday that my new book, Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? is a finalist in the 2022 New Mexico-Arizona Book Awards in the Body, Mind & Spirit Category. Winners will be announced in a couple of weeks.

~Wish You Were Here: A Novel by Jodi Picoult, one of my favorite authors, deals with the COVID pandemic in fiction as opposed to my nonfiction book. Check it out! Interesting story!

~MY FIRST AUDIOBOOK IS AVAILABLE: Go to Audible to buy my first audiobook, Let Me Tell You a Story. I’m working on Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? but have gotten stalled with shingles.

~Do you listen to podcasts? Here are three podcasts with interviews about my new book & some Flippo stories:

Just Another Square Dance Caller: Authorized Biography of Marshall Flippo
Grab your SmatPhone & read this hilarious book!

~Have you bought a copy of Flippo’s biography yet? Believe it or not—it’s been two years. Go here for your hardback or paperback: https://www.laradasbooks.com or at Amazon.

~For me, it’s Christmas all year long! Here’s a variety of Christmas greetings from Flippo & Neeca, featuring his song, “When It’s Christmas Time in Texas”: https://youtu.be/mpJCUGffU3A

Baby boomer · Memories · My Thoughts · poetry

Why Write Poetry? It’s How I Relate!

Why write poetry?

Why write poetry? During the pandemic, I wrote lots of poetry and included many in my latest book, Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? about how I processed the pandemic. But during that time, I wrote other poetry on other topics. That’s how I relate to life. Here’s a couple poems spanning a screen door and do you really know me:

Screen door

The Slam of a Screen Door

July 16, 2020

Slam

            A screen door

                        Not today’s version

                                    But a relic from the 50s and 60s.

It bounced a couple times

            When shut

                        No latch to hold it

                                    Tight

                        Pesky mosquitoes, flies and other

                                    Bothersome pests

                                                Escaped inside.

Sharp, resonating sound!

Not as protective

            As the 21st century!

But the slam

            The sound

                        Echoes through

                                    My childhood!

Running outdoors

            Giggling

                        Afire with life

                                    My brother chasing me

                                                With a water gun

Summer’s sound

            Of freedom

Slam!

            Close with a bang!

Mom’s repeated shout,

            “Don’t slam the door!”

            Never heeded!

We didn’t do it in anger

            Only in haste

                        In urgency

                                    To get outside

                                    To start the adventure

Slam

            Too active

                        And driven

                                    To catch it!

Focused

            On other priorities

                        Other possibilities     

                                    Outside.

A hike to Brown Springs

            To discovery

A bicycle ride

            To freedom

A secluded time in our treehouse

            To dream.

Slam

            Close noisily

A new day

            A new adventure

A door opened to the world

            And

                        Possibility!

Let’s Go!


Why write poetry?

You May Think You Know Me, But . . .

August 9, 2020

As I ponder a topic

            Old yet new

I marvel at the thought:

            Daily Honesty!

Honesty

            Truthfulness

            Sincerity

            Frankness

            Freedom from deceit or fraud

To be honest

            Is to be vulnerable

                        To risk exposure

                                    To lay bare my insides to you.

Are you safe?

            Can I trust you?

At this moment,

            I feel compelled

                        To do so.

I’m a country girl

            You know.

I grew up embarrassed

            And ashamed!

Not sophisticated,

            Like the ladies on TV

            Like the ladies in town.

I’m religious

            A Christian to the core

                        But unorthodox!

I’ve dabbled in

            Native American

                        Savored the peaceful sweat lodge ceremony

            Buddhist beliefs

                        Became a silent observer

                                    Valuing the art of listening

            Jewish wisdom

                        Honored the roots of Christianity.

I’ve divorced three times.

            One heartbroken

                        But necessary for my sanity

            One victorious

                        Because I stood up

            One heartbroken

                        But a major turning point.

I’m a political

            Independent for years

                        Raised Republican

                                    But moved on,

                                                Caused by disillusionment

                                                            With both parties.

I hate arguing politics.

            Remember many hurtful conversations

                        With my dad.

                                    We didn’t change each other

                                                In the process

Just bitter memories!

Saying that,

            I’m a liberal!

That’s not a dirty word.

                        Dictionary says, “tolerant, unprejudiced, unbigoted, broad-minded, open-minded, enlightened; permissive, free, free and easy, easygoing.”

                        I can live with those!

I yearn for equality

                        For all!

I’m a talker

            Love sharing my thoughts

            Love heart-to-heart conversations

                        On spiritually real topics,

                                    Not head stuff.

I hate gossip,

            Yet I get sucked in!

I love people

            All colors

                        Shapes

                                    And sizes!

            Young and old

So much to learn!

My heart has been broken!

            I’ve faced despair

                        Depression

                        Suicidal thoughts

                        Alcoholism

                        Promiscuity

                        Incest,

                                    Yet survived.

Recovery gave me my life back!

I was an English major

            I have book shelves lined with

                        Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets

                        Hemingway’s short stories

                        T. S. Eliot’s poetry

                        Hillerman’s southwest novels.

I’m a poet

            At heart.

                        Words inspire me to life

                        Words create images

                        Poetry gathers words and motion

                                    And creates life.

I’m a writer

            The voice of the plains

                                    Of my heart

                                                And

                                                            Marshall Flippo.

I’m a dancer

            When the music starts

                        It sets me free!

                                    The movement

                                    The rhythm

                                    The connection to the universe!

I’m a computer geek!

            The magic of technology

                        Captivates me

                                    And I want to create!

I’m fragile

            Sensitive

I’m strong

            Resilient

I’m the baby of five.

            My daddy’s little girl

            My mom’s “baby girl!”

Adored by my parents!

I’ve feared obesity

            My whole life

I watched my mom struggle

            And her mom

                        And many of the women

                                    On that side of the family.

I make friends

            I keep friends!

I’m a paradox.

            So, my honesty jumps

                        From here to

                                    There.

I’m an expansive spirit

            Today a soul on fire

                        A God-driven energy

                                    And

                                                A sleeping cat,

                                                            All rolled up into one!

That’s me!


Finally,

why do I write poetry? I love expressing what I feel in words, lines and imagery! A slamming screen door, honesty and looking at me. Poetry opens the door to all possibilities—I can write about whatever! That’s delicious!

What do you think of poetry? Do you write poetry? If so do you share it? Let me know!


~If you missed my post from the two weeks with an Easter flair:

~Celebrate spring with 20% off select book bundles at my Etsy Shop, Larada’s Reading Loft until April 30!

~NEW PODCAST to be released Thursday, March 17, 2022, discussing my new book, Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? : Live on Purpose Podcast at https://liveonpurposeradio.com/category/podcast/

~MY FIRST AUDIOBOOK IS AVAILABLE: Go to Audible to buy my first audiobook, Let Me Tell You a Story

~Do you listen to podcasts? Here are three podcasts with interviews about my new book & some Flippo stories:

Just Another Square Dance Caller: Authorized Biography of Marshall Flippo

~Buy a copy of Flippo’s biography on my website: https://www.laradasbooks.com or at Amazon.

~Here’s a variety of Christmas greetings from Flippo & Neeca, featuring his song, “When It’s Christmas Time in Texas”: https://youtu.be/mpJCUGffU3A

Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? mem

~Are you on a spiritual path? Do you want to heal from the horrible effects of the pandemic of 2020? Visit my website to find out about my new book, Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? and my other five books and three cookbooks: https://laradasbooks.com

Blogging · My Thoughts · poetry · Ranching

How I Record Life? Poetry

Man record life in a journal

How do you record life? Today I wandered through a journal dated August 1, 1999 to August 29, 2004 and found some poetry gems. It’s a large sketch book I dragged around with me those five years, writing poetry, taking notes and wondering about my life. I haven’t revisited it in years, but as I prepared for this blog post, something deep inside nudged me, “Look, browse! Be surprised!”

So, I did, and I am!

As I look at this chronicling of my life, I see a twenty-year time lapse. Yet, I recorded what was going on it the time, what I thought important! I have a stack of journals I’ve filled out over the years. I thought I had typed up all the poetry that had meaning, but my spirit knew treasures awaited me in this journal. That makes me wonder about those others on the shelf.

A Sampling of My Early Poetry

These three poems address attitudes of life and a specific life experience—branding.

Experience Life Totally

July 24, 2000

Anticipate the joy
	Toes on the edge
		Lingering ever so slightly 
Life in its fullest
	Step up to bat
	Step into the swimming pool
		No dive in head long!
	Step out of the crowd
	Step into the crowd

I must participate
	I can’t watch
		Wasn’t made to watch,
			To be a spectator

I want my hands dirty
	My neck sweaty
		My feet wet

I want to experience life totally!
		


The Sound of Her Voice

August 24, 2002

The sound of her voice
	Saying my name,
Reverberates back to
	The very first time.

The time she held me in her arms
	For that first time
	And said my name.

No fruit tastes sweeter,
	No bell rings clearer.
Nothing soothes my soul
	Like hearing my mother
		Saying, “Larada.”


That Smell I Will Never Forget

August 29, 2004

Burnt hair
	Burnt skin
A tradition
	A part of our work.

Branding day on a ranch
	Is a day of celebration of ownership.

These are my cattle
	My property
	My destiny
	My life!

The smell stays with me
	Many years later
		The stench
			The smoke
				The bawl from the calf
					The wrestle to get free!

It was painful
	But necessary!

One day, I slept by the campfire
	Three or four years old
I couldn’t miss today,
	But I was sick!
		Diarrhea
Mom put me in a diaper
	And let me go
		To our special day.

I slept and smelled 
	The campfire
		The branding.

My approach to life stays the same today. I look at life and capture it in poetry to record the feelings, the nuances. These three topics still resonate in my heart.

How do you record life? Do you write poetry? If so, what do you do with it? Leave a comment below.

Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? meme

Visit my website to find out about my new book, Coronavirus Reflections: Bitter or Better? and my other five books and three cookbooks: https://laradasbooks.com