Remembering

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose -- and you know that you're in love when the hardest thing to do is say good-bye.


This is for all you lovers out there who have ever loved and lost ...

I Remember Then
by CJ Heck

I remember
many things
about those
days, and you.
I remember
staring into
brown eyes
as though
I couldn't get
enough of them,
then burning
the love
I saw there
into a memory
to keep
for all time.
I remember
how with you,
total silence
could be so
comfortable,
and how it
was the only
time in my life
I ever felt
that to be so.
I remember
how safe I
felt with you.
Even the way
you said my name
was different
from how others
said it
and I remember
thinking then
that even my name
was safe
in your mouth.
I remember
how sometimes
we made love
all night
and stayed
in bed all day,
then skinny
dipping
to cool down
the places
the lovemaking
heated up.
I remember
lying in your
arms in the
afterglow
and thinking
how profound
it was,
the way
the brain
hitched a ride
when the body
did all the work.
You were
my miracle
in our own
short season.
And it makes
me remember
the last time
I saw you
because
I will never
forget the pain
of my loss.

A Poet for a Lover

Okay, folks, I'm going out on a limb with this one.  Since I'm predominantly a children's author, I don't usually post things like this, but today I'm feeling bold and courageous ... and after all, I am a woman first. You'll have to let me know what you think ...

A Poet For a Lover
by CJ Heck

Oh Lord,
give me a poet
for a lover
whose words
stroke me
like velvet hands.
Word-tender
caresses more
reaching than
the caress of a
mere mortal man.
A poet's
light touch
is so gentle.
Word-fingers
probe deep
every time,
arousing me,
haunting me,
wetting me,
seducing me,
body and mind.
Oh Lord,
give me a poet
for a lover!
Lust and fire
burn in
his heart.
A silver-tongued
devil whose
words make
me ache
to be on
my knees
in the dark.
Word-foreplay
making me
want him,
only mind-loved,
I want to be free
to feel
just one time
my poet inside,
where only
mind-lust
up to now
has loved me.

At The Cemetery

When Love is Gone
by CJ Heck


I watched 
in guilty silence
feeling like
an uninvited
voyeur as an 
elderly woman 
slowly tucked 
a folded missive 
under the vase
on a flat 
headstone.
As our eyes 
met, I felt 
her thoughts.
The wheels 
of time 
keep churning,
turning days 
and months 
to years
till the days 
become a lifetime
and still 
we miss 
the ones
who are gone.
Like a bucket 
with a hole
the sands 
of love sift 
through, yet 
the cold granite 
at our feet
belies the warmth 
yet in our hearts
and the words 
etched there below,
like dry ice, 
burn the soul.
After the old 
woman left,
I felt compelled 
to read 
her words:
"I’ll always 
love you.
I hope you like 
the roses"

and I cried.

Halloween Fiction

In the spirit of what today is, here's a little flash fiction for you.  Now, if I could only do a scary witches cackle, this would be the appropriate time for it ...

Happy Halloween ...

Terror On Hilltop Drive

 by CJ Heck

She was home alone. The sound of breaking glass had wrenched her from sleep. Fear in icy tendrils prickled at the nape of her neck, yanking the wisps of hair and standing them on end. Perspiration beaded her forehead, little runnels slipping down between her breasts and soaking the front of her nightgown.

A shot rang out in the darkness.  It was a bold flash, all at once blinding! Her ears were stunned to sudden silence. A scream tore from her throat, as she waited in the hushed gloom that reclaimed the dark, her eyes again adjusting to the night.

She crept through the doorway and into the hall. The smell of burnt gunpowder and blood was nauseating. Smoke clung to her like a shroud, its gray wisps still rising from the trembling.38. 

Afraid of the dark, but even more afraid of turning on a light, she dialed the number ...

“Nine-One-One ... go ahead, what is your emergency?”

“Help me ... I’ve just shot an intruder."

"Ma'am?  Could you repeat that, please?" 

 Please HURRY ...”

An Announcement

I have some good news, everyone! My website for children, Barking Spiders Poetry, recently won two awards for it's design.  I may have written the content inside the website, but the credit goes entirely to CJ Design, a company located in Germany, for their gifted creativity in developing the website.  I couldn't have chosen a better website designer.

To see the awards, please visit:

Easy Design.Org - Page 3

Easy Design.Org - Page 6

To see the entire website:
Barking Spiders Poetry


Thank you, Cedrik, for your friendship and for your patience over the last year.
Your friend always,
CJ

Monster in My House

In a child's imagination, monsters do exist. According to my brothers and sisters, years ago, monsters came from many places ... the streetlight shining through the curtains let them dance around on the ceiling; they whispered and chittered through the heating vent in the floor from the furnace room in the basement; or they tapped and clawed at the window, wanting to get in, from outside in the big apple tree that stood nearby. My own imagination convinced me that monsters lived in the crawl space under my bed and, if I wanted to get to the bathroom, I had to hit the floor in a dead run. On my return, I had to leap back into bed so they wouldn't grab my ankles and drag me under.

Of course, all of our monsters disappeared when Mama and Daddy came in to kiss us good night and tell the monsters to go away. Here is a little children's poem dedicated to my youngest sister, whose monster was of a different sort ... Happy Halloween!

Monster in My House
by CJ Heck

(Shhhh) there's a monster in my house.
It came in a great big box.
Mommy says it isn't so,
but something eats my socks.

I used to have a full sock drawer,
with red socks and some blue.
I even had some white ones,
'cause I wear white socks, too.

There's a monster in my house.
It came in a great big box
and I must make it angry
or it wouldn't eat my socks.

It lives around here, somewhere.
(Shhhh) I hope it's not around
'cause every time I wake it up,
it makes such awful sounds.

Most times, it says, 'Yum-Yum---Yum-Yum'
sometimes, it just goes 'SWISH-H-H'
and then it eats my socks up
without a spoon or dish.

Mom says they're underneath my bed
or spread around the floor
(the monster musta' burped 'em there
when she opened up the door).

(Shhhh) there's a monster in my house
and it came in a great big box.
Mom says it's just the washer ...
but it's a monster that just eats socks!


Note: Personally, I could never see it as being a monster. I always thought the washer was saying, "This is awful, this is awful, this is awful, this is awful" so I always kinda-sorta thought it just didn't like it's job ...

Bats

I'm going shopping today -- I want to have plenty of candy on hand for the ghosts and goblins who ring my doorbell this weekend.  Last year, I was new in town and not around for "Trick or Treat".  I was in Ohio visiting family.

I wonder, do kids still prank if no one answers the door and they can see lights on inside the house?  I remember years ago, we pranked houses that ignored trick or treaters. We didn't do really bad things, although I heard stories about kids who did. Our pranks were mild compared to some. Did you prank as a kid? Feel free to send me your stories and I'll post them here:   CJ's Email

Again in the spirit of Halloween, here's another little Halloween poem for children:

Bats

by CJ Heck

Bats can hit a baseball.
Girls can bat their eyes.
But the bats I want to talk about
fly with radar in the skies.

Bats are cute and furry.
I think bats are cool,
(if I could only catch one
I’d bring it in to school).

I’m sure YOU think they’re creepy.
They might even make you scream.
But bats will always be a part
of scary Halloween.

It's not so hard to like them,
well, it's not exactly automatic,
but mom and dad don’t mind them
IF they don’t live in our attic.

Grandmothering Toddlers

Tyler, Jack  and Pogo the dog


As you know, I spent all last week in Connecticut babysitting two of my grandsons -- I have seven grandsons, actually, and two granddaughters -- and these are the two youngest grandsons, 1-1/2 years and 3 years old, that I babysat. Before I go any further, I have to ask. Why is it they call it babysitting? No one actually sat during a twenty-four hour period, them or me, that is, until I put "Dora The Explorer" on TV or had them safely strapped in their chairs for meals. Oh, and they also sat in the bathtub for a few minutes while they were being bathed, although that's actually not true, either ... did you ever try and wash a fish?  And I'm convinced that toddlers don't have feet ... they have invisible wheels.

Funny, when I was a young mother of three daughters, I actually got pretty good at it by the time my youngest was a toddler. I could juggle every task that needed to be done, do it, and still have plenty of play time with them. As a matter of fact, it was probably the time of my life I most enjoyed ... and raising my daughters is still the one achievement I am proudest of.

Ahhh, but I digress ... now don't get me wrong, I had the time of my life last week. I love those little boys with all my heart -- but I have to admit that I've never felt so totally short on brain cells. I woke up the first morning to calls of "Graaammy, I'm uuuup ..." and it was suddenly like I had never had a child before -- ever. Before my first cup of coffee, I honestly had no idea, whatsoever, what I was supposed to do. Thank God, my daughter wrote everything down ... sheets and sheets and sheets of blessed instructions, just in case.

I also didn't realize going in, that grandmothers have far less energy than young mothers do ... and muscles hidden on and around their bodies that working out at the gym and the treadmill, for some reason, didn't quite touch. At the end of each day, it was a monumental decision whether to soak in a tub with a glass of wine, or just fall into bed sore and exhausted.  Most nights, the bed won ...

I am happy to report that by the end of the week, things had begun to fall into place. I learned to get up a half hour before they did and have my coffee, which allowed my brain cells to multiply and my organizational skills to reconnect, (as did my patience) -- even my sore muscles ceased their screaming, after coffee ...

Someday, I want to write about the new language I've learned,  "Toddler-Speak" ...