Author Archives: geniecan

About geniecan

Born and raised in " America's finest City" received BS degree in nursing years ago... main career besides wife and motherhood ( and now a grandma)was as a hospice RN for 18 years...Take great joy in finding the good in all things and believing that " No Thing is Ordinary" the title of my blog. I am working on a children's picture book story named R-Qu.. a rock falls of his mountain. Writing poetry is one of my happiest things to do. Yoga, water aerobics,, gym exercise and walking our wheaton terrior, Finley, with my husband Jim are favorite things...oh yes...singing in the choir at Church and recognizing God as #1... are most important... I also have a home based business with magnetic and far intra red health care products..peace to all who read this, Love, Jeane

Chapel Confession

Chapel Confession I can hear the clamoring of whoever entered the chapel behind me, after I’ve settled in and seeking my silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see part of a walker, the source of interruption to … Continue reading

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Chapel Confession

I can hear the clamoring of whoever entered the chapel behind me, after I’ve settled in and seeking my silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see part of a walker, the source of interruption to my false … Continue reading

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Cactus Garden and Rose Garden

CACTUS GARDEN Balboa Park, San Diego, Ca Carrying their thorns proudly in ways we don’t think of, they reach tall, arching strong knowing each prickly spear each stay-away-from-me spike is part of who they are. Their blooming will arrive in … Continue reading

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Seen and Not Heard In the Park

Dirty, disabled and abandoned they poked out from a pile of dusty pine needles useless and for some nonsensical reason, I placed them in a zip lock bag, as if they were a fragile cocoon about to become a flying … Continue reading

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Purging

Mixing in the muck of memory debris she sorts through feelings giving them names frames them in new ways though they still weigh heavy with silence like sunken skipping stones seeking new homes and the chance to play another day … Continue reading

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Remnants of the Rain

via Remnants of the Rain

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Clyde’s Grief

He doesn’t cry, or talk it out but sometimes writes, when feelings are too deep to speak and tears too dammed to spill His mother died, he did not cry and his pen could find no words but he worked … Continue reading

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