subito
 
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Background
Birthday: August 16
Gender: Female
Status: Married
Location:
Tennessee
United States
School:
Ohio Wesleyan
Work:
Insurance CSR
Full Charge Bookkeeper
Town Accountant
Municipal Finance Director
Retired! Yippeee!
Hometown(s):
Sudbury, MA
TN
Quote:
"All shall be well. And all shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well." Dame Julian of Norwich
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My Journals (7)

Shooting Star by Suzanne Eaton

  

SHOOTING STAR
 
By Suzanne Eaton
 
I saw a single shooting star while I lay in bed last night.
I dared not close my eyes to sleep lest I would miss the sight
Of yet another shooting star across the glittered skies
That I was certain would appear should I rest my wearied eyes.
 
Strange, how bright one star appears against an ebon sky
Simply for its movement while others just stand by.
So quickly did it disappear-a brief and brilliant fall-
It made me question what I’d seen, if anything at all.
 
I kept a hopeful vigil then, my chin upon the sill,
And through the summer screens it seemed the world was standing still.
The twinkling of the glitter dome, a gift for all to share.
I felt with peaceful certainty a larger presence there.
 
Soon sleep became the hunter and I became the prey.
The aim was true, the mark was found, and down to sleep, I lay.
Though saddened I had only seen one fleeting comet bright
I woke next morn, my faith renewed by the new day filled with light.
 
 
Summer 1996
Added: May 11, 2008
Views: 199 | Comments: 0 | Bookmarks: 0

Math 1 by Subito

 

Math 1
by Suzanne Eaton

Addend two plus addend two results in the sum of four.
If we make four the minuend, when subtraction is the chore,
And then we name the subtrahend that happy number two,
The difference is the answer then, as well the problem, too.

When two is multiplied by two, the product will be four,
Increasing exponentially, two seems to be much more.
If four becomes the dividend and the divisor now is two,
Two will be the quotient then- not one and not a few.

But back to exponentials, where two twos is always four,
And one two its extracted root, for now and ever more.
Following the logic, don’t you think it's true
When multiplied by itself, shouldn’t one be two?

And one will still be only one when raised to the power of three!
I think I’ll leave this problem to a power much greater than me.

 

 

(Amazing what can inspire us poets.)

Added: April 23, 2008
Views: 234 | Comments: 0 | Bookmarks: 0

Something About Me by Subito
Something About Me
By Subito
 
Writing a verse in meter and rhyme
To tell you who I might be…
A difficult task in such little time
Because I really don’t know me.
 
I know I’m a mother, the best of my roles,
A sister, a daughter, a wife.
I know I’m a friend to some very dear souls
And I’m grateful that they’re in my life.
 
I love little children and ballads and sun;
I love to sing and to write.
I cry at sad movies and think it’s great fun,
And I love staying up late at night.
 
Do any of these give you a clue?
Do you think that you know about me?
What I am called and the things that I do,
Do they tell you who I might be?
 
I’ve heard it said we’re defined by our friends
And the things we love and do.
Do you think that’s so? Is it true in the end,
Or is that what we are and not who?
 
“Who am I?” a question as old as the sun,
But I am not worried because
Though I don’t know the answer, when my life is done
I’m going to know who I was.
 
 
A woman’s all day retreat was planned by our church and our assignment was to bring something with us that would tell everyone something about ourselves. Since I love to write poetry, I brought a poem.
Added: April 11, 2008
Views: 362 | Comments: 0 | Bookmarks: 0

Continuum by Subito
CONTINUUM
By Subito
 
Written one spring day after realizing how I had left my garden to fend for itself, a victim of my rat race.  
 
My Garden lies in disarray waiting for my care.
Impatient tiny shoots appear, tired of waiting there.
Never tucked in properly when the winter nightfall came,
Beneath the blanket of debris It slept there just the same.
 
Stretching toward the April sun Its tendrils start their climb
Gently touched by nature’s call for it’s the waking time.
Though new leaves are emerging among the old and dead
It needs my time and caring to rise up from Its bed.
 
I clear away last year’s remains, once alive and new
And full of promise of what would be, now spent and dry; and too,
I think how splendid these brittle shoots once were-
Slender stems and lovely blooms, graceful, chaste and pure.
 
Kneeling alone before It, I want It to understand
That though It suffers and withers at my neglectful hand,
I meant not to neglect It, nor can I bear the pain
Of losing one brief burst of beauty from Its perennial refrain.
 
Out loud I make a promise to give It time and care
In exchange for one more summer to see Its beauty there;
To behold for one more season that perfect brilliant show,
To witness and to celebrate the Continuum I know.
Added: April 11, 2008
Views: 271 | Comments: 0 | Bookmarks: 0

My Front Door is Pink by Subito

My Front Door is Pink

 
By Subito
 
To be home in a place that is mine, and alone-
It is mine now that I am just me-
Is at once a rare pleasure and sometimes a pain.
Contrasting the rules of a former domain,
I now choose which one it will be.
 
When I choose to enjoy being home, and alone,
I tour through my home like a guest-
Enjoying the candles and sandlewood soap;
Marveling at how superbly I cope
With what little I have…He got the rest.
 
But what I have left is all mine, and alone
I‘m directing this show.
I allow my old cat to drink from the sink,
I painted my front door a great shade of pink,
And if I want to go out, I just go.
 
Oh, sometimes it hurts to be home and alone
With no ‘someone special’ to share
The moments of pleasure I have in my life,
Or the pain that comes from the ironic strife
Of nobody else being there.
 
And so there’ll be times when I’m home and alone
And ‘lonely’ comes knocking once more.
I’ll welcome it like a good hostess would do;
Escorting it out when the evening is through
While admiring the paint on my door.

 

 

I wrote this after I had separated from my  former husband and moved to my own home, kids moved out and I found myself enjoying my new situation. I wrote this for all those people out there who need to make the change but are afraid of what might be on the other side of that decision. For me, that included a new  husband a few years later, and he is the love of my life. And, my front door isn’t pink anymore, but a very nice shade of green!

 

 

Added: April 11, 2008
Views: 1603 | Comments: 7 | Bookmarks: 0

Observations on a March Morning

Observations on a March Morning

An original poem by Subito Written in March of 1997

 

 

Leaves left from November’s lonely release,
Dry, useless, unwanted,
I had not taken time
To sweep away
Their crisp, brown bodies
Now huddled in damp piles
Against the fence.
Some still cling to upper branches,
Unable to let go of their lofty places
After holding on so tightly,
And for so long.
Perhaps one more mighty March gust
Will loose the iron grip
Allowing barren branch to blossom
And to grasp, once more,
Life.
 
 
Snow, left behind from winter’s last attempt-
Cold, translucent, fragile.
I do not venture out
While that crystalline coverlet
Still lingers over one small corner
Of the lower yard. 
Shrinking as the days lengthen,
It tries desperately to deny
That which lies beneath it
The weak warmth of the late
Winter’s sun.
Perhaps one more March morning
Will dissolve the lacy blanket
Allowing hardened earth to soften
And bring forth, once more,
Life.

 

Added: April 11, 2008
Views: 528 | Comments: 0 | Bookmarks: 0

Back to Poetry

I am going to go back to my writing. Perhaps I just need a creative outlet to appease this restlessness I have found after remarrying, relocating and retiring! Lots of r-s. But there is one more and that’s "ready".

I am ready to get back to it and hopefully the on-line community of writers will be an inspiration. Poetry has been my genre, but the blog I write also has been fun. Prose is less disciplined for me and goes faster. When I write poetry I am much more exact in the rythm, rhyme, etc. I know not many write rhyming verse anymore. Or at least that’s the way it seems. But I enjoy the challenge of a good rhyme pattern as much as a good metaphor...maybe more!

 

Added: March 30, 2008
Views: 290 | Comments: 0 | Bookmarks: 0