Hello!

 AHA! FIO FOUND HER PLAYMATES AGAIN!

 

0VER and OVER and OVER AGAIN

 OMG! FIO WROTE  THREE SHORT MESSAGES ON THREE SHORT PAGES AND NONE OF THEM GOT ON THE PAGE! 

😟Could it be that I didn't push the right button?

Thanks for Continuing to Follow Fiorella

 It seems that there is an active oldster in Fio's neck of the woods, and the person who got hold of her about it was her next day neighbor in her teenage years.WHOOPEE! Maybe she' has a car and will drive Fiorella around a little and introduce her to other people she used to know....

In the meantime, Fio has been working on "WORD SEARCH, PUZZLE BOOK" as if they were gold, but she has to do SOMETHING! (Is Fio repeating herself?)

The winter weather was nice for a change, but it looks like we'll have to pull our our swim suits again in a few weeks. (Except for your girl, who doesn't even have a suit anymore.)

Fiorella will try to get more interesting information tomorrow tomorrow......like "Trump has declared war not just on Mexico and Canada, but also England and Scotland!"

 

Up, Up, and AWAY!

 WHAT HAPPENED WITH FIO's message yesterday morning?!? Your girl is starting get herself back again!

Recovering

 Fiorella is getting better, but still sleeping a lot.... accompanied with a good number of snorts and whistles so now she's retreated to her room and working on her puzzle book, the HARD ONE!  Fio is on page sixty right now, and she doubts she'll finish the whole thing.

Having been born in Ohio, your girl assumed she'd have no problem at all with the usual Texas summer, but noooo, she's shivering like everyone else .

What do you think of one of Trump's goals being to take over Canada but ignoring Mexico? 

 

ON AND OFF

Dang! Fio has been playing around with the Puzzle Book that SonB gave to her for her birthday but still not finished with it yet, but is determined to conquer the whole thing.

Your girl is still sick, but getting better day by day.

 

 

 

 

STAGES OF LIFE

 Why should I grow old and gray,

The twilight at the close of day?

The rose, full blown, that falls away,

To dew-damped grass, to there decay

Rather than the early morn

When the sun is being born--

Stay, O stay, eternal spring, And let me dance round'

And let me dance round the fairies' ring

  (1957)

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There's no safe port in a thunderstorm  

No sheltered cove my craft can gain

No mother's arms to keep me warm

 And hide me from the pelting rain

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No tranquil bay to moor the night

No overgrowth of reed and and cane

No lover's arms to hold me tight 

To keep me from the the throbbing pain

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No hope of respite from the sky

No harbor for my tiny boat

No one to heed my desperate cry

And keep my sinking bark afloat

*********************************

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A Deliberate Poem

 This is a poem your girl wrote way  back when.......

         America, bow head your shame

          Ethnic cleansing is the name of the game--

                Clear out the black, the yellow, the brown

                Run gays and their kindred out of town 

                Ridicule the halt, the blind, the lame--

                And do unto those who sorrow the same           

                 Jail the actors, the artists, the press 

                 Silence the woman and make them a jest. 

                 Reject the migrants or throw them in jail              

           

                In short, go after anyone who

                Doesn't talk or think or look like you--

                An automation of self-fed hate

                Which no force on earth can ameliorate.

Snuffle, Snuffle, Sneeze

 Fiorella is sick as a dog, but she's hoping she'll be better by evening and ready to come up with a couple of good lines. In the meantime, your girl warns you to keep your jacket on so you won't be snuffling around like she is!

May have more to say later.....

 

A SHORT, and A

           A-a--a--and, here are some more!

 I walk with sudden dignity

I know not why or how

All I know is that I know

I am a woman now....

The day was bright with sunshine

The foliage gemmed with green

And I was filled with consciousness

Of what could not be seen 

        A soul is a racked with birth pains   

         Before the truth is born

        A sky is rent with heavy rains

         Before the dawn of morn

        ***************************************************

Fiorella's Poetry

    

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      Why should I grow old and gray,

      The twilight at the close of day,

       The rose, full blown, that falls away

       To dew-damped grass, to there decay,

       Rather than the early morn 

       When the son is being born--

        Stay, O stay, eternal spring  

        And let me dance 'round the fairies' ring  

*******************************************

        I don't drink beer

         I don't drink wine

         But ply me with chocolate

         And I am thine

*******************************************

           The day was bright with sunshine

            The foliage gemmed with green  

            The grass was far too happy

            The sidewalk was too clean

            And I was filled with consciousness 

             Of what could not be seen   

                  A soul is racked with birth pains

                 Before the truth is born  

                  A sky is rent with heavy rains 

                  Before the dawn of more

***********************************************

Whoops!

 Okay, you got me: I messed up some words, but I'll try to do better. Remember, your girl is working on her bed, which is somewhat bouncy.

Later.....

 *******************

Your girl is checking out her pill bottles, which she thinks have been tampered with by well-meaning relatives.  All Fio's past pill pages are lost and Fio has had to reconstruct them the best she could. Thank goodness Fiorella has a good memory!

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Some of SonL's friends, who ended up in Australia, visited and talked about old times, and Daughter and her husband joined in. Good times!

*********************

GRRRRR.... Fio is still growling about her missing pills!

 

 

Hmm, what to write....

 MAY, 2008

EYELID LIFT!

Whoop-ti doo, a lots of fun!

I am getting my eyelids done!

The tests have shown most definitely

That I can't see what what I ought to see,

But lift my lids and I'll SEE great

And LOOK GOOD too..I just can't wait!

 

WENDY THE THE WEIMER SAVES THE WORLD AGAIN

Her nape is high, her lip is curled,

Her bark is loud and clear

As Wendy the Weimer saves the world

From flying bird and chittering squiral

And utterly unconcern-ed deer...

SOME EARLY POEMS, HOPE THEY WILL COME THROUGH!

       

            The mothers in my neighborhood

             Are skilled with stake and twine--

             To brace the wilting sapling straight

             And tie the erring vine...  

 

             The mothers in my neighborhood 

              Are skilled with shears and string--

              To prune the wayward leaning twig

               And nip the buds of spring 

          Reeling

                    I'm drunk on the wines of glory 

                     I'm red-nosed and noble and gay.....

                      So what if I die tomorrow

                     At least I have lived for today

 ________________________________________

           EXCUSE FIO IF YOU'VE READ THIS BEFORE....

                        Immortality

            Do sliming snails dream of snail heaven?       

            Do cows believe in meadows in the sky?        

             Do signing apes imagine life hereafter?

             Are elephants aware they too will die?

           Do animals know more of depth than pain?

           Or was it prime to our ignoble flight 

            From ancient Eden's cursed and blessed tree.           

             That we alone know death and thus know life?

             

               MORE LATER!

       ******************************************************************************************

             WAR CRY!

              I can't march, but I can write

               And I can sing and my pen can bite

               Those those are my only weapons

                         In the time of fight

                To over come wrong

                          And uplift the right! 

**************************************

                      Have I read you this one?

                 I've drunk on the wine of glory

                 I'm red-nosed and wobbly and gay 

                 So what it I die tomorrow

                 At least I have lived for a day!

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                   My heart is like a little boat. 

                   That sails upon the sea,

                    Rocked by waves and ocean float,

                    Swamped by adversity. 

                    But still the staunchest little boat

                    That ever sailed the sea

                      SOME OF MY POEMS ARE GETTING LOST BECAUSE I'VE FORGOTTEN HOW                       TO GET TO THEM. HELP!

MOVING FORWARD BY MOVING BACKWARD

 Hey there, guess what! Your favorite (Fiorella hopes) correspondent is swinging to a new mood, and she'll be pulling some of her old favorites out for you to enjoy or no, like as follows:

          

            

            The Lightbringer

             Because they do not want

             To bother with the shades,

              My children squint and grope about 

              In the darkened house every morning,

              So every dawn

               I go to the windows

               And raise the shades myself

               To let the sun shine on their lives 

 

                Reeling

                I'm flying on winds of glory

                 I'm red-nosed and wobbly and gay

                 What if I die tomorrow?

                 At least I have lived for today!

                Immortality

                Do slimming snails dream of snail heaven?

                Do cows believe in meadows in the sky?

                Do designing apes imagine life hereafter?

                Do elephants aware they too will die?

               Do animals know of death than pain?

               Do animals know more of death than pain?

               Or was it prime in our ignoble flight

               From ancient Eden's cursed and blessed tree,

              That we alone know death and thus know life?

''

           ****************************************