Tag Archives: youth

Iconic Twig

a single bulb


bends the branch

wrapped in blue

taking me back

newspaper schedules

annual shows

no demand

just a wish

to be home that night

Silk Thread

how cliche to be on a thin line

but aren’t we all?

spin, bounce, weave, unravel

entangled, forlorn

he knew that he could not fly

spinning lifeline 

hoping for a complete end

bouncing lifeline

the struggle just multiplied

weaving lifeline

thwarted death choices

unraveling lifeline

band of struggling youth

entangled lifeline

lonely in a crowded room

forlorn lifeline

welcome to the rest of the story

life on a line




Family Values

lying in wait was more tolerable than lying in worry

watching for her to peer around the corner

sprinkling sparkling remnants to be crafted into

something, anything

pretending that words could matter on a screen to

someone, anyone

but the visits became more sparse

returning me to words that drift on air from

one ear, another ear

leaving me wondering if ownership exists

when attitudes are hurled like a storm

nobody recording the cold temperature of rejections

or the burn of a verbal punch landed on another

denial the likely outcome of useless confrontation

and the mantra, buzzing in my head

“what other people think of me is none of my business”

so less so should their shenanigans towards one another be mine

or is that true

do you ever stop mothering, do they cease to be your child

I am old enough to know that ridicule is a beast

in the pocket of the unleasher

how do I convey that to a young man

that is trying to trust, trying to love

in a world where even those closest to you


Another December

i flipped the page
crisp sound like morning
smell like a new book or coffee
glanced over empty spaces
thinking leisurely over plans
inventory of what to write in
holidays, birthdays, anniversaries
luncheons, parties, and surgery
i grasp the page again, feel the thinness
amazed that something so easily torn
can hold so many memories, plans
seemingly powerless as it counts
or does it force days forward
common, like a lesion, nondescript
until they tell you, it is a tumor
larger than you want in a brain
my nephew’s name looks so small
when i write it on the huge date
before filling in the other
empty spaces

An Invitation

I recently was extended an invitation by L.K. Thayer to be a guest squeeze over at her Poetry Juice Bar.  If ever a place was filled with creative juices, this is it. Be sure to stop by and check out the inspiring photos by V.C. Ferry, incredible poetry and lyrics by L.K. Thayer, and the guest squeeze spots by visiting poets. You won’t be disappointed. I was really nervous about writing a poem for someone else’s blog – so that’s what I wrote about. Let me know what you think.


i felt a deep panic, like before an academic test
or waking from a dream of being naked in a crowd
that it was silly didn’t calm me, uneasiness remained
distractions with a purpose, this could be the solution

out came a very old file, papers dingy and faded
i began to read, line by line, faster then, page by page
sentimental words of youth, deeply colored clichés
the pee-chee folder was supposed to lend authenticity
serious words don’t belong in flowery notebooks
somehow sporty figures on fields of orange fell short

then i noticed it, up in the corner, looking bold
first initial, last name, was it in times new roman?
onion skinned paper as transparent as the attempts
i looked you up, in a sphere unknown to us then
the about you told me more than i could have guessed
there it was “poetry was a quick road to starvation”
somehow the print more credible, script faded, flimsy
empty praises for rigid writing, clandestine coffee hours

i know now that all the paper held was desire, no skill
passionate youth, misguided by youthful instructors
with curls that fell over banal brown eyes of seduction
arms that reached from behind to jot notes on my paper
begging me, let go, let loose, be free, show me all of you
a young girl, naive, fresh, too lacking in experience for poetry

now i rehash trite thoughts that led me to yellowing paper
letting youthful trepidation fall from shoulders like a red dress
daring myself to believe that words might feed our unclad souls
on slow roads captivating men with dark hair will never travel

Relinquishing Keys

tomorrow is a big day for me

my youngest child turns 20

it is the relinquishing of the keys

no longer directing a teenager

now advising a young man instead

directions are meant to be followed

but advice is a new beast, optional

we’ve been practicing for a few years

dealing in advice until he chose not to take it

snapping back to direction, me still driving

i don’t expect this to be easy, it wasn’t before

how embarrassing to catch your mom trying

to steal the keys from the hook, sit in the front

why is this so scary? i know he is ready but

maybe i am the one who is not prepared

handing out maps I seem to have misplaced my own

Grandmas, Aunts, and Little Boys

he nodded me forward

then took her hand

like toddlers do

outside we went

to the grass hill


with a point to auntie

roll, he said

and we did

right there

in front of



she laughed and clapped

then he turned the tables

‘ma roll, he said

her face dropped


the next to roll

was excuses

my arm hurts

my pants are white

my body’s old

‘ma roll, he said


and she did

we all laughed then

went back inside

out of the hot sun

Beautiful Passion

they gathered around the counter

three self-identified, self-proclaimed artists

it was good, there was a rumble of excitement

plans to collaborate spilling out, colliding with 

guitar strums, charcoal strokes, and penned details

one already knew his title, two were newly discovered

i wish i could capture the passion that filled the air

a reminder they could keep in their pockets

it crackled like lightning hitting close to a peak

sizzled like that very first time you really enjoyed sex

exhilaration like that first bicycle ride with no hands

passion, is a beautiful thing

spawning a lifetime of thrills and adventure

teaching you early on to throw fear

along with caution, to the wind

causing others to stop, take notice

and pick passion up again

Cracked Sky

last call of the night

first walk of the day

cool air on both our faces

winding down, winding up

forever winding


ticktock, ticktock, clock face

circling round and round

text messages, alarm sounds

drip, drip, drip of coffee

steady humming snores


shared space in cool air

good morning, good night

good to be here

Waterfall Offering

i have my own waterfall picture

framed with mirror along the edge

perhaps this is so it can reflect

like water at a cascade’s base

or a storyteller from our tribe

it plugs in and it lights up

it even moves and roars

reminds me of a younger son

searching for a ritual to manhood

looking for tokens to place at my feet

selected one afternoon just for me

a gift of my own piece of solitude

hangs in the corner of my room

curious how such a young man knew

I was looking for a place I could go

for me alone, that could soothe my soul