My Plea for Help

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

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

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

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.

 

 

Childhood Joys

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 shattering good times remembered

 

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

Princess no More

Princess no more she sadly reflects

Upon life’s unfair realities

Father was killed by seven suspects

Lords who forgot their fealties

 

Sadly she looks at her former house

Hearty tears descend down roughened cheeks

Enslaved, tormented like timid mouse

She secretly planned for twenty weeks

 

Escape across the mist-covered moor

Shoeless she runs under crescent moon

Fear drives her forward; footing unsure

Freedom’s joys erasing mournful tune

 

With bleeding feet she stumbles along

Nights the princess seeks shelter discreet

Each sunrise she greets with trembling song

Determined, she moves on tender feet

 

Far from home the princess finds relief

A cottage hidden in forest deep

Woman, kind, knew her father, the chief

Gives the girl a bed in which to sleep

 

Loyal friendship here she now detects

Will dwell no more on fatalities

Princess no more she sadly reflects

Upon life’s unfair realities

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love

Love is an ever-changing dialogue

A definition that is vague, perpetually

Unclear

When young, we feel it nestled in parents’ arms

Snuggled together on the couch

In Spring

As teens it’s infatuation with different

It defines clothes, music, and, of course,

The other

As twenties we feel lust’s call to reproduce

To couple and uncouple, searching for

Perfection

Eventually love consumes thought and action

We marry, co-habitate, share things and thoughts

Intertwined

But when we grow old, loves morphs into

Companionship, shared quiet times, walks and talks

Togetherness

Love is still there, still speaks to our hearts,

But not with the intensity of youth

In a soft voice

Love is everything and more

It is laughter and tears, joy and sadness

Forever

 

 

A Dream of Peace

I dreamt that I traversed the sands of time

to a place mysterious and sublime.

Where gigantic trees with branches stout,

safely nestled all feathered friends about,

 

providing shelter from many foe,

yet allowing freedom to come and go.

Silky soft leaves whose gentle caress

becalms restless souls, soothes with fine finesse

 

young and old alike; no bias here

where all live in peace for many a year.

Through the sands a winding river ran

giving sustenance to both beast and man.

 

Surprisingly blue with not a trace

of sinister longings upon its face.

It speaks of a sweet love; it calls to me,

“Step right in,” it says, “ and I’ll set you free

 

from all that ails; as well sin and pain.

You have nothing to lose, but much to gain.”

With tremulous step I slowly crept

into her warm, comforting arms.  I slept.

 

Or thought I did, for there soon appeared

hosts of angels. I panicked, afeared

of my demise. But to my surprise

they lifted me on high with joyous cries.

 

The night did end. My dream soon left.

The suffering world found me quite bereft

and yearning for that heavenly place

whose welcoming arms did me quick embrace.

 

One thing alone I brought home with me:

knowledge that all men could soar high and free

seeking truth, wisdom, righteousness, and grace.

making earth a truly heavenly place.

The Story of Spring

 

Blessed Sun awakened, stretched,

and flew high into the sky.

Looking down on Mother Earth,

He smiled, spreading His golden

sunshine across Her mountains

with a brilliant golden hue.

 

Mother Earth smiled, reveling

in the spring-like warmth

that penetrated to the depths

of Her glorious soul.

 

To show Her gladness, She

ordered a rainbow of tulips

to burst through Her crust,

to open their buds in a

burst of color.

 

Blessed Sun bowed in thanks,

appreciation for the gift,

then slept behind a blanket

of darkening clouds.

 

Snow fell, a late-arrival,

covering Mother Earth’s gifts.

 

She called to Blessed Sun,

her friend, saying, “Arise!”

And He did, looking once

again at His lover.

 

All was well in the world.

Balance restored.

 

Mother Earth returned to work

creating new life,

while Blessed Sun came each

day to keep her company.

 

The cycle is unbroken.