Archive for the ‘Secret Scribblings’ Category

my mother’s hands (response to “hands” prompt)

September 4, 2008

My Mother’s hands were never soft and scented. 

Mom was always a hard worker, and her hands told her story. 

Today, her hands tell another story.


I remember Mom’s hands, red and raw, scalded by the dishwater.

I remember Mom’s hands, caked with dirt from the garden, her nails rimmed black.

I remember Mom’s hands, quick and sure, peeling potatoes for her famous potato salad.

I remember Mom’s hands, cold and bony, touching my cheek to prove to me how cold it was outside.

I remember Mom’s hands, sharp and hard, like her sudden slaps.


Mom’s hands are no longer rough and worn.

Her papery skin looks like vellum,

But is soft like velvet.

Her left is paralyzed, claw-like.

Mom can still feed herself,

Write some, scrub a little.

Now Mom has to ask for help.

I know she hates that,

She who was always

so independent and strong.

It took a stroke for Mom to have soft hands.


Today I am very grateful for my rough, red hands,

Still strong and capable.


© 2008 Kerry Vincent


Kundalini Housewife

February 26, 2008

housework is fun!

Kundalini Housewife

By Kerry Vincent ©1994

   “Wild and free” – that’s how Angie wanted to feel.  But there was always more laundry to do, more dishes to wash.

   When she made the bed, she wished she had silk sheets, scented with gardenia.  But all she could afford was cheap percale.

   Angie wanted to drink good champagne again, and nibble dark chocolate truffles by candlelight in a room of her own, but the family was always there, demanding her attention, with the TV or video games blaring, and she could never find time for herself.

   Sometimes she escaped through writing in her journal, but then the phone rang, or she had to answer some e-mail, or she had a headache and couldn’t concentrate.

   She wanted the sky to be a mirror of her naked body (not perfect, but not too bad for someone her age), so everyone could see her as she really was.  But she was afraid of offending someone, so she dressed modestly.

   Although Angie wanted to be strong and powerful, like the women she read about and admired, she had lost her courage some years ago, like a penny dropped from a worn playclothes pocket.  She wanted to live on life’s edge – but she was too afraid she’d fall off forever. 

   She wanted to sip the nectar of life at least once more.  She wasn’t too old – she was too young to just give up – she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life regretting what she had not done.  Once Angie had eaten rose petals – she still wanted to taste the whole garden.

   But her will to live was buried at the bottom of a basket of dirty clothes.  It was too much trouble to look for it again.  No, Angie could not scrape away the past, or get an advance on tomorrow.  All she had was today. 

   So maybe tonight, she would treat herself to a glass of wine and watch the sun go down, like she used to do.  Just one more time, she would open a present she gave herself, and act surprised.  She would look inside, find her gifts, and feel alive again. 

Evelyn West – Fever

February 21, 2008

Evelyn West - burlesque peer and Margie’s friendEvelyn West - Fever I dedicated “Strip Tease of Love” to my friend Margie, who just turned 84 and says she is “still scootin’!”  I couldn’t find a photo of her from “back in the day”, but here’s some pictures of her friend and peer, Evelyn West, who sometimes called when I was visiting Margie at home.  Here is a film clip:

Strip Tease of Love

February 19, 2008


Love is an exotic dancer,

Someone who knows just how to tease,

How to make you want her,

How to pull away at the last minute.

Sometimes she blows you a kiss.

More often, she takes your heart,

Turns on a spike heel,

And bumps and grinds her way

Over to the next tipping customer.



From a distance she is beautiful,

Her costume is sparkles and spangles.

But up close you see the wrinkles,

The dark circles under her eyes,

The desire for what might have been.



By Kvwordsmith © 2008

Dedicated to Margie Stroud, who turned 84 today and is “still scootin’!”

How to Fall in Love

February 18, 2008

Do not be expecting it – that is the best way.  Don’t even be looking for love – let it find you!  Just think it is a normal day.  Lalalala.  Say hello to your friends.  Laugh.  Eat lunch.   Tell jokes.   Make a coffee date with your Silly Side.  Be yourself.  Then, before you know it, if the right person comes along, they can’t help but fall in love with you.

Enjoy your lover’s company.  Talk often, kiss and hug a whole bunch.  Think about the other when you’re apart.  Sure, you miss each other, but imagine how happy you’ll be when you get together again!

When you fall out of love, it hurts worse than falling on your noggin and getting a big bump.  You may be very sad when you go to sleep that night, but tomorrow is a new day.  You might fall in love with someone new.  Or not.  It’s up to you.  But isn’t it exciting, wondering when love will come back into your life, tap you on your shoulder, and ask, “Are you busy?”

Just go about your everyday life and be open to whatever love comes your way.  When it’s your turn again, fall in love and be happy.  When it’s over, let it go until next time.

But always be ready for love! 

Kerry Vincent – copyright 1993