Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “friends”


Music, friends, and wine.
Enduring memories grow
from fleeting moments.



Red Wine and Good Conversation

Red wine and good conversation make
the years fall away
and sometimes it’s the telling
over of the past that makes the future
Brushing away
cobwebs, sweeping aside
twigs, and kicking stones
can make a path easier;
make the choice of turn
or twist clearer, but
horizons being what they are,
all roads lead to ruin.
But for now there is red wine
and good conversation.



The Voyage

What is a year but an unwieldy barge
that drifts on a river of dreams?
What is desire but a broken oar
that we use to stem the stream?

What are words but a patchwork sail
that occasionally catches a breeze?
What is hope but a tattered chart
of strange, exotic seas?

But the river is wide, and I’ll sail my barge
I’ll ply my oar, and search my charts,
I’ll raise my sail at each passing wind
and if I see you flounder, friend,

I’ll heave to and lend a hand
and together we’ll set sail and
disappear into the setting sun,
Until another year is done.



Is there anything needier than a simpering wheedler?
Who just took their best smile off of the shelf
then brushed off and pasted it onto their face,
No thoughts in their heads except of themselves.

There are all kinds of losers but the saddest are users
who think everyone is just waiting their chance
to be called on for favours like personal slaves
they call the tune and expect us to dance.

But eventually those who always suppose
that our life’s work is only to make their life easy
will find that their ‘friends’ have discovered the ends
of their ropes and finally caught on to their wheeze.

Once bitten, twice shy, and oh, my oh my,
be prepared to see doors close on that phoney smile
true friends only meet on two way streets,
the user moves on, never understands why.


My Friends Are Flakes

My friends are shiny flakes
at the bottom of the pan
as I swirl through the mud
of life’s alluvial fan.


Friends Who Sing

There are notes inside of notes
when two voices blend.
The joyful noise that happens
when vocalists are friends.

The sharing goes beyond the sound
of music, notes, or words.
It’s something that the audience
may have never heard.

Goals, dreams, and visions,
these all become a part
when the voices blending
are singing from their hearts.


Last night I sang backup vocals for my good friend Barb Munro ( at her CD release concert. Check out her website – you can hear some clips of her music over there. (I know, small picture! I’m the smudge to the left of the smudge in the middle with the guitar, lol). Harmonizing is fun but harmonizing with a friend is fun to the tenth power)

Photo by Janina Carlstad

Thank You

Thank you
For never giving up on me.
You give a fool hope that a way will come.

Thank you
For the words you said that set me free
And the ones you didn’t when you bit your tongue.

Thank you
For always being there by my side
except when you turned to protect my back.

Thank you
For slowing down when I was tired
As we move on down life’s rutted track

Thank you



The Number of Our Days

If our days are numbered
by the times that our heart beats
it seems an awful shame that
so much is spent in sleep,

so much spent cleaning bathrooms,
or washing up the dishes,
too little spent in berry picking
rambles in the ditches.

so little time spent searching
for the rainbow’s end,
for beauty or for wonder,
or for time spent with a friend.

So if our days are numbered
by the times that our heart beats
please let me use each second left
to make it twice as sweet.



What I Dreamed

When I was a kid, my dreams for the future
included flying cars, and world peace,
and vacations at resorts on the moon or in
domes on the bottom of the ocean.
I dreamed of terraforming Mars and boarding
a spaceship as easily as I would step onto a bus.

What a rip.
I guess I stuck around long enough
to see a lot of dreams get left behind like
stacks of old ‘Popular Science’ magazines.

I guess the important dreams were the ones
I didn’t realize I had until they came true;
healthy children,
good friends,
and you.
You’re not what I dreamed of.
You’re better.



Our Little Group

Rebekah and I reading at Coffee House

Rebekah and I reading at the January Coffee House

I belong to a group that meets, approximately, every two weeks to talk writing. There’s only 4 of us (and a member who can occasionally attend), but we generally fill a very enjoyable hour and a half to two hours on a Saturday morning.
We meet in a local tea house, drink tea and usually avail ourselves of their delicious tea biscuits, and take turns reading our original writing (generally poems, but sometimes short stories) and offering input to each other. We all have copies of each other’s work prior to the meeting so we can take our time and make comments and mark up the pages. We take our writing seriously however we don’t take ourselves too seriously. It’s a fun morning spent with friends, including some social chit chat, good food, and a wonderful sense of commradery.
I have learned many, many things from these writing friends. I believe my writing has improved because of their influence. I think having that regular meeting to look forward to has pushed me to write more often and more thoughtfully. Most of these people I rarely see except at meetings of “Our Little Group”, but when we do meet, we have a special bond that only comes from creative kinship and the knowledge that we share something special – this love of the language – this desire to write.

The next poem – Goddess in the Garden – was written a few days ago and will be the next piece of my writing to be critiqued by the group. I thought I’d put it here today and then, if it turns out that I make any changes, I’d post it again and talk about why and how the changes were made. Feel free to jump in any time with your feedback or comments on any of my writing, I’d love to hear them!

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