Sunday, May 14, 2017

So much life has happened in two years.

So.  Much.  Living.

And dying.

Somewhere in between there I became a different woman, one I that I do not always recognize but often call to, like a song bird sings to the wind.  Calling into the sky with sad melodies of loneliness.

Today is Mother's Day.  What for many is a lovely day of family of laughter has been a day of keeping a child from loosing their mind into the depths of of mental illness.  The newest illness so disparaging that we live on the edge of the abyss.  Like hostage negotiators, we talked the child off the cliff again.  We know that we will have to over and over, maybe in a hour, maybe tomorrow or maybe next week.  We know that won't be the last time.  We pray that it will never be the last time because if it is, it means we failed.

And two other children haven't called or texted yet.


Saturday, December 12, 2015

Why

Slowly the life is draining out of me
Bit by bit
Things I'd had always believed to be true
Are twisted into ugliness 
and my leporacy oozes everywhere
 When the people who normally champion
My causes become critics
Of my breathing
Of my intent
Of my glances
The joy naturally drains

I can not find it any more
I'm not even sure I want to

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Milestone

For today’s prompt, write a milestone poem. It could be a work milestone, athletic milestone, or even a milestone related to diet or overcoming addiction. Have fun with it, and here’s to the next 300 Wednesday prompts!




Getting there


Becoming has consumed my life
swallowing up days, months, years
preoccupied with What Will Be

The original goals were trite
and youthful: vet, doctor, lawyer...
ambitious intelligence guaranteed success

Being also consumed the light
in my soul with reality of bills, divorce
death and devastating diagnoses

The daily job of living was littered
with milestones and mile markers
on a paved highway of disappointment

Conquering has freed me with titles 
hoped for but not attained: Mommy, wife
friend, beloved, disciple, teacher

The path of getting there has
twisted, halted and narrowed
preoccupied again with What Will Be




Saturday, April 5, 2014

April 5, poem 5

For today’s prompt, write a discovery poem. The narrator could discover an object, a person, an animal, a dishonorable deed, or any number of things. Poets can focus on the discovery, examine the aftermath, or even just mention it in passing.

Discovering age

being dirty dishwater blond affords one
special attention and powerful amenities
deemed down to earth, real and unaltered

people irrationally trust unaltered woman

beauty fades with time and even dirty blonds
find themselves highlighting their assets
playing up the beauty in sun kissed hair

people battle against unwarranted privilege

age means better, stronger mirrors that
magnify ten times normal sight and reveals
the light has been flickering on silver, not gold


Friday, April 4, 2014

April 4, poem 4

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Since (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Since the Last Time I Smoked,” “Since You Said Please,” and “Since When.”

Since the last time

almost dying is my talent
the last time changed me
in subtle ways
where numbers do not make cents
where money infuriates my sense
where words drip with meanings
and comprehension rolls away from me

like marbles dropped
in a jar to count the behaviors
I want more of

Since the last time

almost dying danced with me
and changed me completely
when attacking appendixes becomes
a barren middle aged woman
the news spilled accidentally in recovery
yet I still manage to have more
children than society feels appropriate

like little people left
off in hospitals or foster care ought to be
hidden in the crevices not minivans

Since the last time

almost dying lost



Thursday, April 3, 2014

April 3, poem 3

meaning sometimes crawls
from places long abandoned

my heart knows

refuting lustfully, robustly
that pure moment where

truth dawns

sometimes messages are
never meant to be heard

but experienced

and then swallowed hard
with burning bile of disbelief