Tag Archives: Poetry

Wide-Eyed Dreaming, a Slow Start

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When dawn awakes at a darkened hour

shall I dream or shall I lament

This life is not meant for those that cower

our thoughts alone can detriment

The clouds can shift and storms arise

in my lifetime I can attest

Air that brings forth compromise

can much surprise beset

Day treads forth and unearths details

that represent a life

With small change my heart might sail

others bring me strife

But never trade your wide-eyed dreaming

because things might depart

Allow those tears a cleansing streaming

sometimes the gift is a slow start

 


dead horses

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how do they run

on broken legs

without their springs

or hearts

how do they see

through faded paint

lacklustre eyes

mind shut

how do they breathe

in stale thoughts

linen wrapped

in death


Conscripted

who made first choice

unknown to me

was joy in attendance

not mine to imagine

here we are

discretion owned

lament for freedom

gifted purposely

easing into lukewarm

like a wet sponge

ignoring the scent

empty containers

that hide contents

senselessly collected

nourishing faux abstinence

steeped in cursing tirades

wrapped with thankless demands

 


Happy Birthday Justin

Today is my middle son’s birthday. He would have been 27 years old. Living with loss is a funny state of being – we fight it at every turn, always dimly aware that it is inescapable. We create habits to keep us from losing our keys, our place in a book, lists so that we don’t forget one of life’s latest ingredients, we play puzzles to keep from losing our memories and thus, our minds. All this effort to avoid the ultimate equalizer of death. Justin died of SIDS the week before he would have been 6 months old.

Like anyone, I did not want a tremendous loss to be part of my reality. Not me, I don’t belong in this club. A good mom, a great mom…she’s not the mother of a dead child. It’s odd how I let the words of other people sometimes reinforce this falsity. I have to remind myself, they just don’t get it. All of us, regardless of your beliefs, we are human and must investigate our surroundings, our relationships, our relationship to everything through our unique perceptions and abilities. We are not meant to be perfect. If we are lucky we maintain the ability to shift and learn through the lifetime process. If we are luckier still, we have love in our life that is not lost but transformed and weaved into our story. Is it always joyful? No. An easy road? No. Is it worth the risk? Yes.

In past years I’ve often marked anniversary dates with poems to record my feelings regarding the death of Justin. I’ve never wanted to proclaim myself any more knowledgeable than another person on how separation by death feels. I felt that poetry was vague enough to easily be molded to others’ perceptions so that they could decide if there was benefit in my words. I still believe that to be true. Today is different. Today I want to risk being more direct about my feelings regarding Justin. I want you to know about him and the importance he plays in my life and who I am…and who I am becoming. Yes, he is sometimes seen as that tear you want to hide from – sometimes that silly smile as I sing along with an old song – he is part of me…every day. I want you to know so that you can understand why I am celebrating today. Like my other sons and all the important people in my life, Justin is worth celebration.

Please do me a favor as I honor his memory and place in my life and take time today to celebrate those that matter to you. Celebrate them if they are standing next to you, across the country, across the world, in a different belief system, a confusing time in their life, a confusing time in your life, in a difference of opinion, or simply in your memory. Allow me today to be bold enough to proclaim the importance of loving, deeply, with your entire self, even at the risk of losing it all.


Half Century

no flapper dress at 50

or tarantulas running wild

no desire for more poison

or acting like a child

 

communing with the living

not bringing back the past

creating from experience

that’s a high that lasts

 

spilling food, drink, & secrets

loving knowledge that i own

surrounded by what matters

finding most of it at home

 

say goodbye to forties

some other decades too

no comparison with others

to myself i am now true

 

 


Pterodactyl Screams

I keep waiting

for a rain

or reign

of knowledge

to hand me freedom

 

in all my waiting

tightly wrapped

as cloak

with dagger

is omnipotent fear

 

perhaps this waiting

births sobriety

of mood

and soul

draining creative thirst

 

leaving me waiting, waiting, waiting

for pterodactyl screams


Twerking Monkey

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I have a twerking monkey
She sits up on the shelf
Staying nice and low-key
Always sticking to her self
Until the music finds her
Drifting toward the sky
I see her toes start tapping
From the corner of my eye
The toes are entertaining
And her head begins to bob
With a tutu and a headpiece
This monkey ain’t no slob
But as the tunes continue
I question how much fun
Is a dancing monkey with
So much jiggle in her bum