Category Archives: Poems

A Lament

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You loved me when I was sick.

You held my hand

Placed cool washcloths against my forehead

Took my temperature faithfully

Fed me homemade chicken soup

Until I was better

And then we returned to normal.

Me, the athletic daughter

Disinterested in things of the home

Not wanting to marry at fourteen

And then I’d fall ill again

Mononucleosis

Too weak to walk down the hall

To lift my head to sip water

And so you cradled me

and allowed me to lie, to skip school,

to lounge around home because I hadn’t

studied for a science test

But then I had to go to school

And then we returned to normal.

You demanded that I learn to cook

Said that I had to clean house,

Including wiping down every leaf of every plant

You occupied my time with busy work

Never once praised me for my grades

Even when I got accepted to a good college

With full scholarship

And then I needed surgery

To remove a section of bone that had become infected.

You sat by my bedside at the hospital

The doting, loving mother for all the world to see

A mirage, but no one but me knew that.

When I moved out you cried.

Was it because you’d miss me?

Or that you wouldn’t be able to control me?

I never knew.

But when I had my first child,

You rose to the occasion.

Moved into my house.

Took over cooking, cleaning, caring for the baby.

You criticized every choice I made.

Even tried to convince me to leave my husband.

But by then I had become wary

Of your moves, your words

And so I didn’t listen.

And things returned to normal.

Until the next disaster.

Each time you pushed aside your angry,

Jealous words

And moved into my world,

Taking over

Or at least trying to

But as I aged, I grew in confidence

And learned that I could stand tall,

Knowing that my husband was there

To support me, love me,

Always and forever

And not just when sickness or injury

Came to visit.

And so life assumed a new normal.

 

Childhood Joys

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well-loved children with sparkling eyes,

rosy cheeks, and happy smiles

glittering with unbounded joy

freely bestowing generous hugs and

warm kisses that leave cheeks glistening

with reminders of their passing.

 

laughter peels from hallway rooms,

giggles rising to the gloriously blue sky,

caressing souls, nourishing hearts

better than steak and potatoes

or a well-read book.

warm arms, tickling fingers

and conversations uninhibited by age.

 

playground games fairly played

indoors under the watchful eyes

of guardian parents, checking safety,

guarding friendships from the

ills of sibling rivalry.

growing up together in love.

 

meals broken and shared.

prayers offered with heartfelt sincerity.

special times protecting doors

to teenage rebellion, that tears

families apart, breaking hearts

and erasing the good times shared.

 

for now, though, life is good.

quiet times of reflection broken only

by stories told and songs sung.

well-love children with sparkling eyes,

rosy cheeks, and happy smiles

glittering with unbounded joy.

Going Home

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Home is beckoning

I long to run my fingers

down my cat’s back

hear his plaintive meow

when he’s hungry

I miss the loud calls

of my birds as they speak

to one another across the room

I miss my home

Not just the rooms, the furniture

But the my-ness of home

all the things that make it

uniquely mine

memories of my kids that linger

in the air like a fine mist

I can hardly wait to open the

door and step into the world that

my husband and I have created

Live Life

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There are days when I want to run outside,

raising my arms over my head,

shouting with joy

I woke up! I’m alive!

I get another chance to do all

That I love to do

And I smile

This is the reason we live

To be happy

To laugh

To dance and sing

And love and care about each other

We don’t live to spew hatred

Or demean other people that we feel

Beneath ourselves

We don’t breathe simply to waist

Precious air on foul words or

Hateful phrases

That’s not why we were put on this earth

We are here to love our neighbors

To love family

To worship as we please

To build lives worth living

So

Take off the mantle that binds you

And run

Scream

Leap for joy!

You are alive.

A Limited Perspective

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The curtain falls

Darkness ensues

The audience waits

Entranced

Holding breaths

Until the magic begins

The story unfolds

Holding enraptured

The captives

As they follow every word

Action

Song

Trying to memorize everything

For the future

To be able to express how they felt

What they saw

The experience of it all

Except for one lonely man

Sitting in the balcony

So high up that all he sees are the tops of heads

He understands that something

Great is happening below

But he cannot appreciate it

Because he cannot see

He hears the words, the music

But it bears no meaning without sight

When the show is over

When the man is asked about the play

He understands that he missed

A key point

That he takes from the experience

A limited perspective

But to him, it is everything

And so he talks as an expert

Who has witnessed an inferior production

As someone with knowledge in the arts

And disparages the quality of the show

The value for his money

And yearns for the way it used to be

When theater was great.

 

Flowers, Flowers Everywhere

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It didn’t take too long to realize

That I had begun to fantasize,

And I was forced to carefully apprise

The situation before my eyes.

 

My time had come, that much was certain.

I stupidly stared at the white curtain,

After my legs had stopped their dartin’

And my poor heart had ceased its hurtin’

 

The doctor, a diagram he traced

Of my heart: at me he boldly faced

And now declared, as my eyes gazed

At my demise. I was sorely fazed.

 

Later that day, I died, to my surprise.

Sad I was this good world to be partin’

The flowers still remain where they were placed.

 

My Plea for Help

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In the humdrum sameness

of my everyday life,

as teacher, mother,

sister, and wife

words have fled

causing undo strife,

piercing my heart like

an unsharpened knife

Oh, please, someone

come and rescue me.

Open my eyes that

I soon may see.

Fill my soul with

words: set me free

that I may write

what’s meant to be.

Why have the words

all flown away?

What did I do

to them betray

my inmost thoughts,

my flight from fray.

Come back to me,

without delay

Like a wee small child

I scream and shout.

throw all my pens

and toss about

long empty pages

lines, words without

hoping that soon

I’ll merit clout.

Tell me, please,

how to live again

with words and rhymes

flowing free like rain.

Send down a storm

to complete my brain.

I need you now.

That much is plain.

Mystery Unfolded

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I don’t know for sure why I am who I am

But I can guess

It could be because I was raised in a

Conservative, controlling family

In which I was expected to marry young

Like at fourteen

But I rebelled and graduated from high school

Went on to college, but not to the one of my choice

I had to live at home until my brother went away

And then I was required to attend the same college

But something unexpected happened because

There I learned to think

To believe in my abilities to tackle difficult subjects

And succeed

To stand on my own two feet and have opinions

That I was willing to say out loud

My first real job required me to go out into the community

And knock on doors

Talk to total strangers about a difficult topic

At first I was terrified

But in time I gained confidence and could speak up

Say what needed to be said and do what needed to be done

This newer, stronger me met a man who not just acknowledged

My right to be me, but encouraged me to stride out

And try new things

For this I love him, respect him, admire him

Motherhood didn’t come easy to me

I’d never held a baby, cuddled one to my chest

Or kissed the top of its tender head

So I learned by doing and making mistakes

But I love my kids, now adults, unconditionally

And because my husband is a good man, I worked hard

To encourage and be proud of my kids in a way that I never felt

My husband is my rock. My example. My shining star

Who leads me along the path of life

So I may not know for sure why I am who I am,

But I can give credence to the belief that

My husband is the creator, the shaper, the one

Who should be given credit for all I have accomplished

And continue to accomplish

When I stop to think about it,

It is because of him that I am me

And that makes me proud

The Real Deal

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Every day I pack my bag with

Swimsuit and fresh beach towel

And drive to the gym

Optimistic that a few pounds will be shed

Just enough to make a slight difference

I drive past workers stringing new telephone lines

Bicyclists, young and old, wavering in and out

Of the narrow confines of their allotted space

I bypass trucks that stop at train tracks

As I listen to my favorite country music stars

Wondering how crowded the pool will be

And picture my fat self  walking

Nonchalantly to the pool’s edge

Sitting on the top step as I put on my fins

Pretending that my suit isn’t stretched too

Tightly over my abdomen

And then I step into the water and begin to swim

Feel the current that my hands create

My breathing rhythmic and the motion calming

Lap after lap I glide

Outlasting younger, stronger, faster men

When I’m finished, I smile

Proud of what I have accomplished

And in those peaceful minutes

I forget about my size

And what others see when they gape

For I know, that in that moment of time,

That they don’t know the real me

And never will

Night Visitors

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Imagine the dead walking at night

Arising from their daytime beds

To visit. To observe.

I think of my mother and what she’d say

How she’d bend down and count the wrinkles

Around my eyes and comment about my age

How my dad would want to fix things

Toasters. Microwaves. The awning on his windows.

My Grandma would smile, laugh, encourage me

To be the best possible person imaginable

And then she’d slice cheese and add crackers

Never worry about her weight

Who else would come to visit?

The previous owners of our house.

They’d drop by and tsk about the changes we’ve made

Or maybe they’d snicker at the pathetic state of the gardens

Because they don’t know about the drought

I think of them floating about in the night

Gathering together to discuss my life and shake or nod

Or smile or reach down and brush the hair off my face

And kiss my cheek and say “I love you” so softly

That it feels like a gentle breeze on a warm summer day

Then I’d wake and sense their presence

I’d sit up and look about, knowing that someone was there

See only darkness and hear only the silence of the night

And wonder. Just simply wonder what I’d missed.