Lyrics, poetry and art all meshed together

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Dear Diary

He glanced at me with a frown. "And what are you joyful about?"

"The sun is out and I feel no pain," I replied with a grin.


"The flowers smiled at me, there's food in the fridge and I have no doctor appointments."

"What's the big deal?" He gave me a frustrated look.

"I'm alive and earth wants to hire me cause i'm grateful to be here."

"Then go, I have too much work to do, don't have time to be thankful for anything," he said.

Earth is hiring, apply now, he's not asking for much of your time. All he wants is for you to heal your soul with laughter, a simple smile or sweet gesture with nature, friends or family.


The beginning is sweet
Like the first taste of strawberry sherbet
On a hot summer day
You can’t get enough
You want more to savor the palate

The beginning is a battlefield of rain and sun
He turns it into a merry-go-round with his tongue
You contemplate the possibility
Of opening your heart without bleeding
Wondering if he will be the first Knight
To rescue you out of Brooklyn with his
Mighty sword
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

Thursday, May 21, 2009


Here's my question to you: HAVE YOU TAKEN THE TIME TO SMELL THE ROSES?

I have. A year ago, I didn't (May 19, 2008) I was on a busted couch in Brooklyn, depressed and out of it. Not knowing if I was coming or going. I was very ill, fighting for my life or what little I had left of it. It was my birthday, which to me is like any other day, but on this particular day I really thought about what it would feel like to end it sweetly without being noticed by anyone. That's how bad it was, of course, a year prior (2007) I was diagnosed with Lupus SLE, so I know a lot of what I was feeling was due to the meds including steroids, stress and uncertainty of life. Today, I look back with a lot to be thankful for. My gratitude list looks more like a novel. Every breath I take when I wake up in the morning feels like a newborn feeding her lungs with the pleasures of life.


1. I am HERE. I may not be 100% healthy, but I look at life daily with a smile. I am given little reminders, if i'm able to walk, talk AND write, then I have nothing to complain about, well, unless i'm hungry :)

2. I am appreciated and loved by many, even strangers. Someone once told me I inspire them simply because I have the ability to make them laugh

3. Grateful to create poetry, i'm writing more and more and loving it!

4. Grateful for a new license. I went to the DMV and got my AZ driver's license, it expires when i'm 75 years old, can you believe it? Hmmmmm, at 75, where will I be in my life? Perhaps, baking cookies with organically grown grand-mas or throwing sensual poetry on stage somewhere in front of some young hot men. I know i'll be one sexy grand-ma, no muumuus' allowed in my closet, corsets are acceptable, lol

5. Grateful for good movies like the Kite Runner, it was deep, moving and magnetic

6. Good food and cooking for friends, which is what I did on Monday, it felt great to give and not expect anything in return

7. Flowers and seashells, my mom has the most beautiful seashells in her yard, they are huge, I can almost hear the sea whispering to me when I close my eyes

8. I'll keep this list short and sweet, lastly, grateful for all my blogger friends, thank you for being supportive and pushing me to write my little heart out. I will continue to dream cause we are here to dream, not to look at the number of days we have left to live.

When was the last time you held a seashell in your hand or leaned over to smell some color flowers?

This is my favorite journal, I write on it daily and have kept many pictures that are dear to me of family and friends. I am sad that i'm almost finished with it, but can't wait to get me another one with more blank pages to fill.

I keep many wonderful memories inside my journal, even the cover must be meaningful. It's the perfect gift you can give to yourself

Please tell your friends and other supporters that they can listen to my first radio appearance with Urban Echoes by visiting

Sunday, May 17, 2009


Dear Diary

I have another way I want to tell you this story
Lately, I’ve been tipsy
Drinking him in like a good chocolate martini
Literally, sipping every ounce of him
Conversations flow
He fits well like a good support bra
More like strapless
Alluring and fierce
When he walks
The ground shakes his manliness
My garden purrs with moisture
Then he makes a confession
“I love to get my hands dirty”
“What do you mean?” I look oblivious, pretend not to understand
He gets on his knees, caresses the soil with the tips of his fingers
He picks a tiny flower among the wild lilies. “This is not meant to be ignored.”
The scent of jasmine surrounds us
“I love spring along with her stories,” I sighed.
“The moon is more interesting, spring to me is like a woman who constantly breaks your heart.”
“Are you serious?”
He shrugs, “she never stays, and she runs away once you pay her a compliment.”
I close my eyes, embracing the heat from the sun. “Well, I’m here, not going anytime soon.”
He gets up. “Really? And what season are you?”
“Would you like me to be your summer?”
He smiles, teeth as white as pearls. “You’ll give me heat then bounce.”
“Not true, you will always be hot.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I can handle heat, as a gardener it’s my specialty.” He steps close to my face, much taller than me and very easy on the eyes. The sun giggles along with my thoughts.
“So, tell me, do I need protection from your heat?”
“A good sunblock would help,” I respond, giving him a strange look.
He frowns, asking, “What’s wrong?”
“I’m looking for your imperfections, you hide them well.”
His dark brown face is shy at first. “That is what men are supposed to do; we reveal them when we’re ready.”
A week later, we are laying on green, lush grass listening to nature’s I-tune.
He admits, “I am left with a bad tan.”
“It’s the beginning of summer, enjoy it.”
I unbuckle his mind with my words.
He runs his hands over my soft, curly fro’. “Summer, I want you to stay,” he whispers in my ears.
Yellow tiny butterflies flirt around us.

“I can’t promise, it depends on how faithful you are.”
“I am willing to take care of you; flowers will bloom all over the world. I will water you everyday of the week.” His kiss long and slow is a poetic verse.
His promise is kept until September, and then he grows cold, distant and anxious.
“I need to hibernate,” his words a menacing whiz of fall.
My heart drops, the weather becomes menopausal, kicking the birds and butterflies away.
He is distracted, not looking at me.
“You have found someone new?”
“She is my fall.” He had no shame telling me this.
“She won’t stay long,” I warned. “Or love you like I do.”
The swirl of summer’s sweetness has disappeared.
He turns away
Not looking back
I vow his winter will be as bitter as my pain
His footprints resembles ugly watermarks with high definition on my journal
Quietly, I walk away
Knowing the moon has another story to tell
©2009 by Cathy Delaleu

Sunday, May 03, 2009