Betty Bleen's Poem - 俄亥俄新聞OHIO CHINESE/TAIWANESE AMERICAN NEWS

俄亥俄新聞OHIO CHINESE/TAIWANESE AMERICAN NEWS

GRANDMA’S STRUDEL

11/11/2018

I used to watch my grandmother roll dough
paper thin.
It stretched across the old wooden table,
hung drape-like over the sides.
From the stove she retrieved cabbage and onions,
fried in butter.
Other days it was an apple-cinnamon mixture
or a concoction of butter, sugar, raisins and
poppyseeds.
Whatever the ingredients, she'd toss the mixture
onto the dough, spread and smooth it down
with her weathered hands.
Then she'd gently tug and roll the dough into a log
and place it on a baking sheet to bake till
golden brown.
If I shut my eyes, I can envision her
in that checkered apron,
gray hair tidy in a bun at the back of her head
as she took the pan out of the oven and
presented it to her family with pride.
Grandma's strudel,
I can almost smell it still.
hot from the oven,
baked with love.

Betty Bleen © November 2018
www.toocutetoboop.com

A LETTER TO AUTHOR DEAN KOONTZ

11/3/2018

I have been reading your novels Dean, since the early years,
beginning in the late sixties when you were trying to find your

niche, writing under pseudonyms. Your thrillers lured me in
with words like beveled glass and bougainvillea flowers,

which spoke to my poetic heart. Your stories engulfed me
in suspense, taking me down dark alleys to places I never

in real life would venture. I took you to bed with me, after
first ensuring all doors and windows were securely locked,

often sinking reluctantly into sleep, goose bumps covering
my body, tension aching in my jaws.

It was the thrill of being scared, that dipping of my toes into
the surreal that kept me returning to you again and again.

But now you've gone and done it, Dean. You've written a
thriller so horrific just reading chapter one is enough for me.

I can't go on any further, terrified to find out what happens
next, afraid of nightmares invading my dreams.

I regret Dean, that we must now part ways. It's been a long
scary ride but the bus stops here.

So take your Breathless, your Black Seed, Strange Highways,
Dark Rivers of the Heart, your Intensity…

I have been permanently scarred. Thanks to you I will never
again get a good night's sleep.

And I will never look at words like Whispers, Breathless or
Strangers in the same light.

I assure you, it's nothing personal. It's your stories Dean
which leave me no choice.

I have to get out now, while I have my sanity, before the
wolf comes knocking on the door, before it’s too late.

Betty Bleen
www.toocutetoboop.com