Monthly Archives: June 2015

To Save Myself

I’m not a parent

I have no offspring

No one with my eyes

Not even my smile


And yet…


I’m up to my elbows

In squeaks and squawks

Hair is going wild

What is a shower?


New language of the tongue

Combine making phrases

Of I said so’s and

Do not disrespect me!


I sound my like mother

Oh how can this be?

When did my life turn

Into a party for twenty-three?


My name is now obsolete

No lover can save it

No more a name but phonics

That crawl up the spine


How do they do it?

They will pull you in

Straight from the chest

Till your glasses are rosy


I have chosen this

Unorthodox way of life

Of spending a year

With not my spawn


Force thyself to be

The one who holds

Their worlds in the

Pit of my stomach


Taking the time to

Cast, form, and shape

The incorruptible

Citizens of my heart


Noting each day

I must bear to be

In their constant

Unwavering presence


This way I must be

When June 21st appears

My world will hush

A wet smile on my face

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Filed under Poetry

I grew up in an old world.

I grew up in the old days

That only exists in stories

Of walks in icy cold tundra

Miles and miles to school.


Except my icy cold tundra was

The Sunshine State golden glow

With heat that soaks your skin

And rain that’s an afternoon feature.


I grew up on a long street

That wasn’t run by adults

No homeowners association

No debates about grass heights


Instead, five curious minds

Whose eyes saw everything

The gray house on the corner

To the giant flower magnolias.


They were the kings and queens.

The explorers, the architects

And the landscapers of their world.

They were the creators.


Roaming free, sun up to sun down.

No part left untouched

Only to stop to lay under the trees

To watch the sun play with the leaves.


Their world wasn’t crowded

With impossibilities and necessities

Their world survived on old magic

Eyes that imagine and believe


From the first peek out the window

Checking if life had opened its eyes

Sunlight dipping through the blinds

Showing them the escape from darkness


From season to season the stories changed

But the canvas grew up with them

Accommodating the stretches and pulls

Of where their laughs would take them.


Often times it led their world to stretch

So far into their dreams giving comfort

As their adventures came alive

In front of their eyes like a movie screen


Always questioning and pushing

The boundaries of what’s beyond

Reaching out with their hands

Easing the grip on their childhood.


I grew up on this street.

There is a girl with blonde curls

Peeking out from behind a tree

Eyes twinkle with a secret.


Filed under Poetry