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In 2000, I resolve to....
30 · Dec · 1999
listen. Not just to what people are telling me, but what they mean.
move. Confidently, in the direction of my goals.
believe. That God knows what He's doing.
Thank you for reading my memos. I am honored to have such friends. Happy & Safe New Year!
Penny Rene'
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Prayer For the 21st Century
May the road be free for the journey,
May it lead where it promised it would,
May the stars that have ancient bearings
Be seen, still be understood.
May every aircraft fly safely,
May every traveler be found,
May sailors in crossing the ocean
Not hear the cries of the drowned.
May gardens be wild like jungles,
May nature never be tamed,
May dangers create of us heros,
May fears always have names.
May the mountains stand to remind us
of what it means to be young,
May we be outlived by our daughters,
May we be outlived by our sons.
May the bombs rust away in the bunkers,
And the doomsday clock not be rewound,
May the solitary scientists working
Remember the holes in the ground.
May the knife remain in the holder,
May the bullet stay in the gun,
May those who lie in the shadows
Be seen by those in the sun.
John Marden
Posted by Penny Rene at 09:47 PM
Christmas Benediction
21 · Dec · 1999
I have struggled for over an hour trying to come up with some explanation of why I decided to send the following lyrics in this memo. I think I am having such trouble because someone pointed out to me today that in sending these memos, it is possible that I am making myself very vulnerable. I agree. But we all have our reasons for being who we are, don't we?
Though it may not be clear to you, these words are about forgiveness. A subject that I believe is directly tied to Christmas. So, well...Merry Christmas. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Ghost Story
I watch the western sky
The sun is sinking
The geese are flying south
It sets me thinking
I did not miss you much
I did not suffer
What did not kill me
Just made me tougher
I feel the winter come
His icy sinews
Now in the firelight
The case continues
Another night in court
The same old trial
The same old question asked
The same denial
The shadows close me round
Like jury members
I look for answers in
The fire's embers
Why was I missing then
That whole December?
I give my usual line
I don't remember
Another winter comes
His icy fingers creep
Into these bones of mine
These memories never sleep
And all these differences
A cloak I borrowed
We kept our distances
Why should it follow that
I must have loved you?
What is the force that binds the stars?
I wore this mask to hide my scars
What is the power that pulls the tide?
Never could find a place to hide
What moves the earth around the sun?
What could I do but run and run and run?
Afraid to love, afraid to fail
A mast without a sail
The moon's a fingernail
And slowly sinking
Another day begins
And now I'm thinking
That this indifference
Was my invention
When everything I did
Sought your attention
You were my compass star
You were my measure
You were a pirate's map
Of buried treasure
If this was all correct
The last thing I'd expect
It's time that I confessed
I must have loved you
I must have loved you
-sting-
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Benediction
I held my hands
outstretched so far
to a million faces of indifference
'twas handed hope
back to my face
with unending shares of consequence
i pray for silence
i pray for rain
i pray for miracle
to wash me clean again
what i have loved
i held so tight
i watched it suffocate griped in my fingers
what I now have
will lead me on
a small flicker and regret of youth that lingers
i pray for silence
i pray for rain
i pray for miracle
to wash me clean again
i am no longer
the girl in all my photos
who looks for herself
in other people's eyes
enough time has gone
to see my own reflection
and chose a path of truth instead of lies
the waves have risen
the moon has spoken
my struggling words
are more than token
penny rené
(This memo is dedicated to GE Blaney, my grandfather, who taught, by example,that we should never give up on love.)
Posted by Penny Rene at 09:43 PM
The Ring
17 · Dec · 1999
I was sitting in a cabin in Gainsboro, Tennessee, miles from home, not a friend in sight. I had been completely alone for over 24 hours.
Just days before, I had attended the funeral of a 22 year old friend who had died in a plane crash. In struggling with the acceptance of his death, I bought a ring at James Avery Craftsman, styled to represent the four seasons. I figured I could use the reminder that there is a season for everything. Sitting there, music pouring through the living room, watching incense burn, and reading a book called "At the Foot of Heaven", I wrote what has become one of my favorite lyrics. It is a tribute to that moment in time and inspiration that comes from the most unlikely places.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
the ring
strawberry smoke circlin' up
with no where to go
at this common moment
it's a vision of my soul
I am in love
intimate
intimately in love with your words
seasons blow and rain and breeze and stain
so I wear this ring
to remind me of a day I gave up everything
words on a page
that were angels to my mind
I put on this ring to hear, "Baby, you'll be fine."
blue sounds float around
pulls me to my knees
I fear losing you
more than facing me
I am in love
intimate
intimately in love with your words
seasons blow and rain and breeze and stain
so I wear the ring
to remind me of a day I gave up everything
words on a page that were angels to my mind
I put on this ring to hear, "Baby, you'll be fine."
- penny rene'
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To learn more about the author of At The Foot of Heaven or if you would like to read his latest work, go here
Posted by Penny Rene at 09:34 PM
Dialogue with Chef Michael
1 · Dec · 1999
Memo #6
Within every organization, among the people that push buttons, shuffle the papers, and cover mistakes, there are artist, musicians, and … poets. In the summer of 1996, I was brought into a company, doomed from the start, but filled to the brim with the most talented, intriguing people. For 60 plus hours, seven days a week, we slaved away to fulfill someone else’s dream. In out minimal spare time, we drank Guinness and slowly, ever so slowly, fostered each other’s plans to do something better.
One day, I had secretly brought a handful of my poetry to the office for a co-worker to read. He wanted to make me a star. I left the papers on his desk with a note that said something like “When you get a minute… These are for you to read. Don’t let anyone else see this!” Later in the day, I asked him what he thought, but he said he never saw the note or the poetry. In a state of panic and anger, I rushed up to our office, which was shared with four other managers and searched the room. Finally, I broke down and began asking people if they had “accidentally” picked up my papers. Our Executive Chef looked at me and said, “Those weren’t for me? I thought you left that for me.” I don’t know who was more embarrassed, but he made good by saying he wanted to talk to me about it later.
After we closed the club that night, with a couple of Pilsner and minds that were too tired to be defensive, Michael Martin and I talked about poetry and our crazy lives… and became friends. The following is part of our conversation in poetry that ended much too soon.
Years after I left Caffe Milano, Michael fulfilled his dream of opening one of the finest dining establishments in Prague, Czech Republic where he lives with his wife and children.
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If I could dig, it would b a hole
for us to bury our secrets,
planted… hushed away from noisy street cars
and overwhelming café’s
Demanding sunlight,
that mother who keeps our skins
from cracking
under a man’s frozen charm
Soaking the rain to begin flowers
And when we at last raise our dirty heads
smooth and shaven
begin the pruning and cutting
that teaches us to grow
-Michael Martin 7/96
As you
I believe in what I cannot see
as you
I have fought for permission to breathe
as you
this mind flows with visions unseen
to my naked eyes
as you
bury my secrets in a garden
to keep from telling lies
-penny rené 7/96
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I majored in liberal arts. Will that be for here or to go?
The key to a good Guinness is the smirk on the face of the drinker.–Michael Martin
Posted by Penny Rene at 09:10 PM