I am probably just a scaredy cat, but when no one is in it, I hear odd noises under our bed. What the heck?
Here is a question: Why is it when you hear a noise and as soon as you look in that direction, it stops? So odd.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 8:16 PM
You know, sometimes there are songs in our lives that bring us back to simpler times. It is within this melody, that our eyes shine. :)
It seems to me that romance (in which I adore) does not always kiss the soul. Sometimes it is absent for some days. Sometimes, we take from granted that our loved ones know how much we care, so we simply forget all the right words. Or become to busy to speak them.
Sometimes that alone, crushes the tender heart.
Imagine walking in the rain... each droplet on the cheek idling as tears might beneath the lid. And when they finally fall, the mixture of wetness will conceal what we have come to know.
A pity really.
I love romance. I love love. I love smiles, hugs and kisses! SO MUCH! I hope I never lose my romanticism. I do not think I ever will. :) :) :)
Romance is a kiss to the hand, a sweetness that brushes the lip, a need, a sunny day in June... a sense of security in this sometimes harsh world.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 4:45 AM
[And We Will Sing]
(After reading Pablo Neruda)
when did the moon in its absolute cease
the Autumn in your eye?
The luminescence that climbs from your heel
to your mane--the candela that strings the stars
along your spine? Are you not sea’s breast,
crushing language as I glide past
the span of your mouth?
lover admits to nothing,
but a fraction of thought
flanked by sand and stone.)
I want to sit with you in the early hours
of sea fog like swollen fruit raised--
a liquid ache for lichen-covered landscapes,
lost or far-off, soft-faced forms that lack
naught in grandeur, where
the sails of my translucent dress will circle
around you and rise, unbuttoning linen
like the fragility of skin on skin, pulled
close in clover and wine.
Oh Beautiful one, may I become the final steps
of your inundated palm--lulled by the contrast
of late night photography, until I have no
May I join in its sweetness, seeking the poetry
of Neruda, deep in your distant shores.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 4:39 AM
Saturday, March 24, 2012
I adore photography and I think that I always will, no matter how I make my living. It is as necessary to me as breathing, as much a part of me as my heart.
Art is my comfort, passion, explanation, my connection, and hope. I need it the way I do the sun, moon, faith, honesty, love and friendship.
May my need for these disappear when my need to write does, for then I shall be truly lost to myself.
If I do anything in this life, just once I hope to make an impact without uttering a word.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 8:57 AM
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 8:49 AM
Monday, March 12, 2012
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 9:58 PM
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 9:56 PM
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Thursday, March 08, 2012
You do not need to hire a nutritionist, simply learn to eat the right foods.
1. Try eating foods with only 1 ingredient. (Fish, chicken, bacon, sweet potatoes, eggs, veggies and fruit.) Spice them up and keep your blood sugar at a safe level. There are so many useless things added to our foods nowadays, why worry about what they are. Preparing and eating one ingredient foods will keep you out of the dark and your blood sugar where it should be. Your body will burn fat.
2. Eat the right fats! Cook with olive oil--use it loyally and toss out all veg oils and canola. Stay away from margarine (cook with REAL butter) and non dairy creamers.
3. Stray from sugar and most carbs. Carbs you do not need are wheat, most cereals, rices and pasta. Instead of rice, eat Quinoa, Millet and this creative cauliflower idea!
4. No diet foods, Splenda, boxed or frozen entrees, or anything else of the sort! (Again, know exactly what you are putting into your body.)
5. Fill up on fruits and veggies, exercise (even if 10 minutes a day), and drink plenty of water.
You will be sure to feel the belly fat slip away as you look and feel better as a whole. Trust me, it is all about WHAT you eat.
You eat foods that will raise your sugar levels you body will kick in insulin and begin to store fat. Stay in the safe zone. When your levels rise, your levels will drop to a low that will have you fatigued and craving. What happens? The cycle begins again. Bottom line, watch what you eat and stay at a sugar level that will help you lose fat. In fact, some fats will do just that!
I am no expert and these are only opinions, but what have you got to lose? Get in the kitchen and prepare something healthy tonight. A suggestion: Grilled chicken, grilled zucchini and mushroom with a fresh garden salad. :)
Find out what is best for you and start on that road to a healthier you.
A Facebook message this morning:
"I am grateful for the positive posts that you always come up with. So much so that I am reposting some of your words on my wall... Simply cause you are really cool...
Thanks again. [:-)]"
It in these times that I feel utterly grateful to be alive. I feel good in knowing that I have the ability to begin someone's day with a smile. We all do. There is nothing more rewarding than seeing the positive impact that you may have placed into another life. Change begins with just one person--someone to stand up, gather all around them, and turn it into something beautiful. Others will follow.
I love my life! And even if I did not, I would still love the people in it! I am grateful for all the positive influences (including you) that surround me, and that I surround myself with.
I love to love.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 6:56 AM
[Dawn - my best friend]
Just thinking about her today.
Dawn and I have been best friends for years, she is absolutely amazing. You know, the millions of little things that she does, warms every inch of my heart. I am grateful. xo
Sunday, March 04, 2012
it is 9 o'clock & it is warm
I put in writing
intimate thoughts & send them to you
nights when it was humid/
un buttoned to the thigh
when I assembled on the divan in anticipation/ in love/
wet against the wire
& in previous letters we spoke of wintered grasses
& relations that secreted into blossom
but that night as you translated tongue to
tongue a story
I closed my lids &
sunk into another autumn one where nights do not clam
do not snowstorm
the palms like an elderly woman
opening the hand in division
cooling or heating the fissures through severity
& that is the way I will commence my next lines
my lips cool themselves
a movement along white
for all that is [mine]
break off a fragment of the crag
lessen the stone
that keeps us in outlying cities the length of the east
arrive to me in flesh expected
unclothed as the sun
split the laws of agility
be delicate before my knee
the small of your back deep in commitment
steady as the air we breath
allow me to
stitch stir language along
the more we kiss the more I moisten into these lines
the more we love O love/ the less we lack
& so I leave you without construal
a trekker on the ascendant wall
a Costa Rica leaflet
trailing in the draft of an opened entrance
but before the lights fan away
or syntax forms into latte for two
consider me & my mouth
subterranean in your throat
a murmur or a partition of field less flowers
inelegantly beside the well
where we drink &
& we drink
& we co llapse
the fragrance of that night on the wire
of it all
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 5:16 AM
I miss my piano. Sadly, when I moved a few years ago I could not move it with me, because it was much too heavy. My Grandad gave it to me, so instead of just leaving it with someone I did not know, I gave it to a family friend. The last time we spoke, she told me how much her children loved it. I did not have the heart to mention how much I missed it. I just smiled and wished them the best.
Someday, I hope to have another.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 5:12 AM
A likely subject in homes, coffee shops, classrooms, studios—anywhere actually. Where do they go? I say this and mean, our deepest dreams? That picture perfect photograph inside one's own mind...contemplating, but never really moving--that one moment of silence before it all rushes on. Perhaps, that inner voice that slowly begins to fade shortly after the photograph burns. What are we left with?
I truly do not have the answer. I do know that life takes over and becomes stronger as it pushes you through your routine, rarely leaving you time to follow anything, but the long track of receipts from bill payments. Life will surely subside now and again—just enough for you to regain your footing, recall what it was you had longed after, and give you some time to break a small piece of it onto your plate. From there, you feel a surge of hope as repetition kicks in.
Now that does not mean you cannot pursue your dream, if you are one of the lucky ones...the ones that can simply take as much time as they prefer to begin their dream, without worrying much about anything else.
Then we have the people that juggle it all at once; they have every reason in the world to feel nothing, but absolute, because even though it is a heavy load to bear, it is extremely worth it.
Not sure where I fit anymore. I think I have been all three at one point of my life or another. Now? Well, I just pursue happiness and inner peace. Oddly enough, I know they must come from within—not from the outside.
The fact is that anyone can dream, that is the simple part. It is actually being consistent and finishing what you have started that becomes the true quest. If you have found your dream, hold it dearly, follow it with all the passion within and never give up.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 4:55 AM
People have asked what it is that I like most about myself. They wonder if it is my hair, home and so on. What I like most about myself--the one thing that I would never change...
I love to love, to be kind and compassionate. It feels wonderful. And there is no better feeling in the world than bringing comfort and warmth to another heart.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 4:23 AM
some women master mirrors
in gas stations and motel rooms,
learn to get by
when july deepens fastbreath
or uncertain hands.
they count tips in denny's,
lying themselves into poetry,
blending into the pavement
in pigeon shit gray—
elegy clinging to pores
the ashtray girls, their bodies
tree stumps in mud, fashioned
in the light of sour milk
they buy french sleepers to weep in,
whisper abandonment, carry
love light, like a wafer
on the tongue.
they pick up pennies, study them
for signs of age, see months become
smoke in still rooms along
the back streets of eden.
ladies, hardened to glass,
they lose children in supermarkets,
—if sang to
they would splinter.
they will sink into the cold,
minutes becoming urgent, where
everything will be counted like
meter money, like days that pass
with rain and nothingness.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 4:07 AM
I never knew that I loved winter.
I must have mislaid photographs of white places
during the storm, the black and white of a
gazebo, or the distance between everything. And there
is a vertigo of song here—it is clever,
I am here again in the season; I carry a talisman,
a rosary, and a string-of-letters written
In the evenings the cluster of city lights rein in
these eyes— they clarify the low clouds that hang
from the sky like summered mist, but summer is not home.
And I think
I can see spring—an opening scene,
where mountains grow and fingers spread cool,
begging for release.
(I can still feel the laughter each
time I turn the soil.)
At times I lie like a lily without stem, speak to it
in its own Italian,
mouthing the words I long
to hear. At times, I fly like a gull into interstices.
And with no one looking, I fall deeper into the lungs of
Neruda, taste the thread— open dividers that held
for so   long.
And with little breath, I dribble language, hope to rise
a season I dislike,
but still, the pearl of my spine
will not be strung!
So tomorrow, I sleep like
the past [lovers] that knelt before it.
In spring I will sow a blossom, a yellowed daffodil
from bulb. It too will brighten this city, where
in this very moment, seems sheltered in white.
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 3:51 AM