AMUSED

Men say there are nine muses

all female,

all source,

all inspiration

behind man’s creation.

I alone amuse myself, 

a female 

well enough,

tough enough

wise enough

behind my own creation.

We females are funny that way.

We have no time

to while away,

nor our egos sway,

where power games lay.

We do not play.

We females amuse ourselves

as we go on life’s way

to build lives better,

to make peace surer,

to allay furor

which gets in the way.

We find joy in  every day.

We bring joy

to every girl and boy,

to every woman and man,

to all we can,

smiling all the way.

Men may need nine muses.

Women are happy to be

all  nine at every time,

in every way,

on every day.

We women do not play.

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LATE SUMMER DAZE

LATE SUMMER, acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino, 2024

The shades of summer pull slowly closed.

Sun drops quietly behind.

Shadows lengthen across grass carpets

moistened by the dew of cool nights

and warm days peaking through.

Autumn is on her way to paint

hot colors against cool blue skies.

Summer still lingers behind the shade

ready to surprise 

with summer heat intent

on a hot reprise.

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Late Summer

Acrylic on canvass by Louise Annarino, 8-7-2024

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GIVE US AIR !


Vice-President Kamala Harris and Minnesota Governor Tim Walz

August flopped heavily

Sweatily

Vociferously

and fully aware of the pressure

building in the heated

air.

Little relief in scattered 

rains that shattered

a populace already battered

by heated rhetoric

over the curtained waves of

air.

Two-thousand twenty-five

reasons to despair

the planned assault on our care

of one another and a planet

dumb-soaked without a care for

air. 

August is hard to breathe in,

in and out, and in again;

cheering on Harris-Walz

awaiting the slightest breeze of

air.

I can breathe again.

We can breathe again.

The earth can breathe again.

Finally, we can move forward again.

In November we can vote in cooled

air.

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WORDS AS FRIENDS

Photo by Monstera Production on Pexels.com

Treating words like friends

poetry does not create. 

Words can ask that you wait.

Like friends.

Words can obfuscate.

Like friends.

Words can stimulate.

Like friends.

Words can love or hate mandate.

Like friends.

Words can fear understate.

Like friends.

Words can hunger sate.

Like friends.

Words can placate.

Like friends.

Words can ease your fate.

Like friends.

Words can simply be great.

Like friends.

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GARDEN LESSON

Photo by Richa Sharma on Pexels.com

There is nothing like a drought

to teach what life is all about.

Waiting for the rain to fall

is not sufficient to survive.

Tender patience does not thrive.

Buds remain closed, tucked and hidden

deep among leaves’ folds

offering a pace to hide.

Roots buckle down deep

and down, down, down

to depths they seldom explore;

knowing once the rains do come

they may open up closed doors.

Eventually, rains come, and even pour.

Rains batter plants stressed and sore;

opening caches held within their core.

It is only after sun appears

that plants let go their fears.

And in that moment plants flower,

Their faith in Nature restored.

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WHERE HAVE THE BUTTERFLIES GONE?

Photo by Nandhu Kumar on Pexels.com

Hydrangeas move as if on a breeze.

A breeze of bees moving flower to flower

across lime green, blue and pink.

Across ruby red and native plants

their flowers do a pretty dance.

On this hot, dry day I watch bees play.

But, where have the butterflies gone?

They did not appear this year.

The yard is awash in colorful blooms

In past years butterflies found plenty of room

to feast and sleep a moment or two.

Butterfly bushes and  butterfly weeds,

native plants and other species

await their return in sad revery.

I ask everyone I know,

“have you seen a butterfly this year?”

The answer is always a baffled, “No.”

Where did all the butterflies go?

And, will they ever return ?

Who knows? Like lovers spurned,

they may have found another garden

to replace my own. 

I can only hope so, as I mourn

a topsy-survey world grown too warm.

Photo by Scott Webb on Pexels.com

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TEAR DOWN THE WALLS

Photo by Tima Miroshnichenko on Pexels.com

Let me tell you. Being a woman who is fully human is not a given. It is always a hard-won position. Too many dismiss women as not fully human. Women and their ideas are called “empty-headed.” Women are called “weak-willed.” Women are called “frail.” Men are are not thought to brainless or empty-headed. Men are not thought to lack willpower. Men are not expected to be weak. There are stronger and more respectful words for men. I am all for respecting men. I only ask for the same in return. I do not always get that respect. Even if I had remained in my hometown, married a “nice Italian-Catholic boy” which was my parents’ most fervent hope, I would not have been able to avoid such disrespect. But, I might have had a man to come to my defense. More likely, not. Men know how to avoid a fight. Their lives depend on reconciliation to  bullies. Male aggression can be a fierce and unpredictable experience; especially, by men with gangs behind them. 

Bullies come in all guises. They are not just “street toughs” with cigarette packs stored in the rolled-up sleeves of their tee shirts, tatooed sleeves exposed in warning messages as in my childhood neighborhood. Boys and girls both learned to give them a wide berth. Bullies also exist in board rooms, school rooms, and court rooms.

I did not stay and be a well-behaved little girl all my life. I became a lawyer. I entered courtrooms where early-on I was usually the only woman to make an appearance on a client’s behalf that day. Maya Wiley, spoke of her experience as a lawyer yesterday, in an appearance on MSNBC. Ms. Wiley carries two strikes against her. She is not only female; but, like former Prosecutor and Attorney General of California Kamala Harris, she is  a woman of color. She is Black. She lives in a world where the unspoken message is, “If you are Black, step back.” This is the silent message in the brain of too many Americans. I am a white woman. Yet, I find some empathy in our positions as a female.

Ms. Wiley mentioned episodes in her practice of law as a federal district attorney which matched my own experience. The judge, despite her presence at the Justice department table ready to plead her case, pretended not to know she was an attorney. The judge dismissed her entire identity in that moment. He cut her. She bled. She still bleeds.

On several occasions early in my career I made an appearance on behalf of a client. I sat with other attorneys, all men, in the courtroom waiting for my case to be called. It was called and I approached the Bench. “Good morning, your Honor, I am Louise Annarino, an attorney with the Legal Aid Society. This is my client…the plaintiff in the case before you today.” Standard introduction. Not a standard response from the judge, however. Instead he said with a smirk toward my opposing counsel, a man, “Young lady, you cannot just waltz in here without a lawyer. Come back after you get one. Next!” 

Holding back my anger at his attempt to shame and dismiss me…and my female client…from “his” courtroom, I answer, “ Your Honor, I am an attorney. I am representing this woman who is my client. Let me repeat for you that I am a lawyer from the Legal Aid Society.” He responded,

“And, I told you you must be a lawyer to represent this client.” By this time my client leaned in and whispered to me, “I thought you were a lawyer!” I could barely hear her over the laughter of the male attorneys seated behind me awaiting their cases to be called. The judge laughed with them. I did not. I said, “Perhaps you are not listening to me, or are hard of hearing. I shall give you the befit of the doubt.” I am a licensed attorney in the state of Ohio and I am not going anywhere.” He heard my case. My client had her successful day in court. We both bled that day.

I returned to the office and told my colleagues what had happened. A woman attorney said, “Oh my, I forgot to warn you, we women always carry our license with us and lay them on the bench before we start.” I took my license off the wall and put it into my briefcase. I wish I could say that was the only episode, but it was not. Not every judge, nor every attorney cut me. But, I still bled. I bleed writing this account. All women bleed. We have become experts at stanching the flow. Right now, you are thinking of jokes about our menses ever month. Stop it! Those bleeds bring new life into the world. We honor those bleeds. We do not honor the dishonor of men cutting us down to size where we can be ignored as not fully human, not fully equal; cut and bled.

Kamala Harris was interviewed my Mika Byrezezinski at a Know Your Value Conference in San Francisco describing what it was like to face barriers of discrimination and break down walls. She said, “‘When you break things, it is painful. You get cut, and you bleed, and it will be worth it — But be very clear. It will be and can be a very painful process.’ Kamala Harris knows this. Maya Wiley knows this. I know this. Every woman who breaks down barriers knows this. Women break down barriers every day…int their homes, at their businesses, in boardrooms, in school rooms; and yes, in courtrooms. They break down barriers in friendship relationships, in love relationships,  in business relationships. We still do not have an ERA (Equal Rights Amendment). Why do men need barriers from women? We love them. We respect them. We honor them. It is time for them to do the same. And to those women, too afraid to break down such barriers, we get it.  We know the position you are in. We bleed for you, too.

We say to all people, as Reagan said to Khrushev, “Tear down this wall” so that none of us need bleed ever again. Vote for Kamala Harris in November. We need each other. We need each other healthy, whole and safe.

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GODDESSES AMONG US

I see now why the first deities were female.

Only a woman speaks to the soul of  birth

and breathes new life into 

every soul on this beloved earth.

Goddesses with distended wombs

weighted with hopefulness

are found in every ancient tomb.

Our future had seemed lost.

The entire world seemed doomed.

Death in every household loomed.

A globe on fire steeped in hateful rhetoric

gunned down every effort to escape 

a despondent, hopeless fate.

Covid stole the innocence

of even those usually sitting on the fence.

No one was content to wait and see

what November wrought for democracy.

Moneyed oligarchs of greed stole hope 

as well control over justice with abuse of power.

Federalist  Society Judges delayed justice

hour after hour after hour after hour.

Even the Supreme Court undermined

the Constitution which is yours and mine;

not theirs, not wealthy donors, not those in power.

Then she, she, she, she, she, she, she

took the torch and raised it high.

Emma Lazarus’ female guards our harbor.

Kamala guards us in our darkest hour.

Her smile and laughter brings us

up from our knees, our prayers answered.

A goddess has arisen and made a fuss

of all the lies and hate-filled derision.

Her solemn promise made to us

that she will fight at our side.

She will tan the evil-doers hide

as mothers have always done,

chastising our sins one-by-one.

And so we rise with delighted surprise

to shout as one that we are not done,

and we are not going back where death resides.

We are going forward where life begins.

To a place where elections are open to all.

To a place where life is treasured not spent

on greed and control and all that is indecent.

We are headed to the polls to give our consent

to a mother goddess from heaven’s descent;

called by Joe’s prayers, who always seems to know

what we need and whom to follow.

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WAKE UP THE YOUNG

Photo by Mark Angelo Sampan on Pexels.com

The older I get

the harder it becomes to

carry heavy hearts.

Young hearts are heavy

these days of heatwaves, flooding

and fires of war.

My own heart has slowed,

unable to speed or race,

beating a steady pace.

The young run shouting,

fueled by alcohol and fun,

circling around me.

I try to tell them,

straighten your path toward the goal,

a race to be won.

I shout from the sidelines

loss of freedom is gaining

on you, as you play.

Age carries no weight.

My words tossed away as trash,

as victory fades fast.

Woke becomes useless

for the young who sleep too late.

Please, now, come awake!

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