Leana Delle

I see it just like yesterday
With Dad behind the wheel,
Cruising over gravel roads
And how it made me feel

Destination Grandpa’s house
Sometimes uncles, too,
All of whom had farms to run
Where food and families grew

And on the way we’d pass a few
Cars and trucks and tractors,
Meandering at Sunday’s pace
No need for going faster

I’d raise my hand like Daddy did
And each of us would wave,
Acknowledging the driver
The kindness they’d repay

I loved that little gesture
And miss it where I am,
Fingers now are raised on high
And no one gives a damn

Aggression at my bumper
Anger on my right,
Police who just don’t bother
‘Cause they’ve got a bigger fight

It saddens me, I must admit
At city’s core and mine,
That basic human decency
Falls victim to the grind

Despite, I’m blessed that I was raised
To know a farmer’s code,
For when mankind wears on my soul
I seek a gravel road.

~ Leana Delle
Sunday, March 3, 2019
Number eight of fifty-two in my 2019 Sunday Poetry Challenge.

Clonie Gowen. Professional poker player, and my first guest on Girlfriend, We Need To Talk!

How fitting that my premiere interview be in person. Many of my conversations with outstanding women happen over the phone, but this was the best way to start out. And this woman’s story! From taking a bus to Vegas at 17 to teaching poker in Allen, TX – not to mention the $1.6 million in tournament wins that happened in between.

What was my biggest takeaway from 30 minutes with Clonie? Her parallels between poker and the game of life:

“If you’re just sitting down and you’re miserable all the time, you’re going to always see the miserable cards that you get. You’re never going to be able to see the wins.”

Amen sister. So true. She spoke of attitude, praised gratitude, and exuded fortitude.

Thank you, Clonie Gowen. This interview was a royal flush, and I know that those who listen will be all in.

You can check out the interview on iTunes or by clicking HERE. And if you want to learn to play from the master herself, this is the LINK for you.

Want to follow the show on social media? Try one or all of these:
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram

Could it, can it, must it be
Have I reached the age,
Where staying up past ten o’clock
Has marked a turning page

There must be some confusion,
Surely a mistake,
I’m the one who lived for fun
Who wrote a different fate

It wasn’t going to be like this
Sleep was for the others,
Those who kept all things routine
A life I swore would smother

I’m the girl who raised a glass
At every chance to party,
Dancing on the beach ‘til 2:00
Never safe or sorry

But now I have to come to terms
With how my days are changing,
Knees that creak and hips that burn
Memories rearranging

I often stare as youth walks by
All limitless and blind,
To just how fast it disappears
This flirting brush with time

But something else I glimpse, I see
Deep in tender eyes,
Confusion underneath it all
Searching truth for lies

My younger self lacked confidence
Though knees could bend with ease,
I’d pour a glass of bravery
Try desperately to please

Men I never should have loved
Paths that led to nowhere,
Dreams I’d dream, too scared to try
A private, loathing nightmare

Would I choose to raise once more
A glass and journey back,
I’d rather ache from head to toe
And quietly hit the sack.

~ Leana Delle
Sunday, February 24, 2019
Number seven of fifty-two in my 2019 Sunday Poetry Challenge.

Sculpture, “Kathy” by Susan Kay Johnson

CLICK HERE to listen to episode one.

HOOOOORAY!!!

After months of planning, brainstorming, and interviewing, we’re ready to roll. The podcast is here!

What will this first episode bring? Me discussing what the show’s about with sound guy Mark “Friedo” Friedman. Now, don’t let the fact that I’m talking to a man fool you; the show’s definitely about women. Friedo just happens to speak up on occasion, and it’s important that you get to know his brilliance. Did I mention that he’s a sports radio celeb? Think The Ticket; think ESPN.

For your convenience, episodes will be posted in various places. On social media, obviously, but also here. I plan to write a weekly blog entitled “The Girlfriend Takeaway.” In it, I’ll tell you about the current guest and discuss what I got out of the interview. I’ll also include a link to listen in.

That’s all fine and good, but please consider subscribing via the above link to receive this weekly soundbite of joy into your inbox. And don’t forget, you’ll also get my weekly poem on Sundays. What a deal!

Okay, let’s get this party started. I hope we have a long, enjoyable relationship throughout this broadcast, and if you ever feel the need to reach out, girlfriend, I’m ready to talk. Just email at: gfweneedtotalk@gmail.com

The tiniest window sits over my hearth
Housing a thin pane of glass,
The view from no matter the angle I look
Shifts only as seasons do pass.

Shamrock and emerald and deep forest greens
Stolen by ambers and golds,
Barren in branch and absent of scene
To buds that so bravely unfold.

Through this tiny window, on a tiny thin branch,
Occasional birds flitter by,
They sit and they sing and at times seem to glance
Straight in with inquisitive eyes.

What might they be thinking, those tiny bird brains,
Of my perch that sees so little change?
Do they think me as sad, or pathetic, or blessed,
Can they give my behavior a name?

Are they stronger these branches, these leaves, and these birds
Than I in my chair by the fire,
As they all face what comes with each rising sun
No choice to retreat or retire?

Often I dream of knocking it down
The wall that holds tight to that glass,
Let the whole world, the real world, come in
And brace for holding on fast.

That thin pane of glass some would argue is wise,
It’s what man has worked to attain,
But what is kept out and what is kept in
Is never remotely the same.

~ Leana Delle
Sunday, February 17, 2019
Number six of fifty-two in My Year of Sunday Poems challenge.