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Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Thank You!

I’ve been working on this blog pretty steadily since January of this year. I’ve enjoyed sharing the work directly through Facebook and Twitter, and it’s been very validating seeing how many views the site has accumulated. Makes me feel good that people are liking the poetry and coming back to read more. So thank you for that!

I won’t be contributing to this blog much more, as I want to begin writing new material I’d like to use for my next collection. Can’t say how long that will be. No one ever really knows how the creative process will pan out. But I’m hopeful to have a collection out with new, never published material by late spring 2018. That’s the goal. 

So again, thank you to all the readers. I mean, WOW, 7,922 views since January! Just WOW! 🤗

Monday, October 30, 2017

What Good is Freedom When Illusory?

I used to hide under the bed.
Despite my pounding heart, 
I was safe so long as I wasn’t 
discovered. I’d leave for hours, 
disappear, when cell phones 
didn’t exist. I was free until forced
to return, out of hunger, want for 
my pillow, or having circled the 
mall far into the double digits. 
I’d return to that ugly face, 
wade through another day of 
muck, waist deep, retarding my 
every step, undoing the previous 
day’s little freedoms, having 
slipped through my fingers
and back in my cell, under the 
dictator’s oppressive regime that
moves like a visit to the DMV or 
returning gifts after Christmas. 
I might too equate this regime to
adolescence and its lasting 
punishment on our hormones.
What is freedom anyway? 
A mirage? A tall tale? A story of 
hope? All, but maybe none. 
Maybe it’s all just an illusion. 


Sunday, October 29, 2017

Trapped

I feel helpless
trapped
like my days
as a child
when she would 
hurt me so bad
I’d wish to be dead 
or run away,
far away
and to where 
never mattered,
as long as I was 
free
from her scary teeth
in my face
when she screamed
at me,
or when I looked
up from the floor
beaten, lost, 
trapped in that hell.
I never thought 
after surviving all that
living with the truth 
of me, being
an abused child, 
would I ever again
be victimized so bad
by someone smaller
younger, one I’ve 
spent the past 
15 years 
caring for.
Never did I see
the same meanness
coming,
all the while
her forgetting
all the days
of all the years 
I sacrificed
for her better life.
I’ll never understand 
how the more I give
the meaner she can be.
I never thought I’d 
once again 
feel trapped like this.








Sunday, October 22, 2017

The In-Between

I’m an end of the spectrum hopper
at one extreme or the other
wishing I could slide myself over
to the middle, find comfort in 
a happy medium, a less drastic 
direction one way or the other.
But no, for me, I get the all or nothing, 
desire to consume me now, hold
me till I can’t breathe, try so hard 
with an outpouring of over-the-top
sweetness that my teeth begin to hurt.
Or it’s let’s be friends with benefits,
take it really slow, and I hear again, 
what’s the rush? So I’m dangling 
once again on said spectrum end
waiting for the magical words
that we are now moving into the 
middle, the long sought after in-
between I’ve been hoping for,
but what you must know is I only
ever bounce from end to end, as
drastic as us distinguishing from 
the left and the right nowadays, 
which has become a part of the 
demise of reaching the in-between. 
The current political climate has 
severely torn us into supporters 
of the current regime or haters, 
finding a middle next to impossible.
So what’s a girl to do when it’s sex 
and friendship only, or desperation 
with sappy, disingenuous motives 
to ultimately have some void filled,
one they can’t or don’t want to cope
with anymore, leading me to believe 
that perhaps what they should be 
seeking is a mommy instead.  

Friday, October 20, 2017

At Home With My Pillows

Sometimes I think I’ll never make
it back to my pillow, my velveteen
blanket, my safe space.
I’m far removed, and connected 
only by the little texts my daughter 
will send, three dots displaying
on the screen, and I’m impatiently 
waiting for the reply already. 
But there is something about the 
uneven, hanging, donut-shaped 
lamps and shiny marble floors. 
Cookies and coffee in the evening
and all you can eat in the morning,
as I stick to fluffy scrambled eggs, 
sweet melon and Life cereal, 
always dry, in a bowl, perched on
my egg and fruit plate. I’m pretty 
consistent that way, but I’m known 
to have an occasional bagel with 
a thin layer of low-fat cream cheese.
So after receiving daily fresh towels 
and returning to a made bed, you 
would think I’d not be in a hurry 
to check out. But contrary to such belief, 
I am far more content in my own bed, 
my own room, hearing my three cats 
chase each other from end to end 
of the apartment, a small hiss here, 
a loud “MEOW!” there, until I 
jump from bed, uttering my first
“Hey, stop that!” and they scatter 
like blown leaves in late October.
I’m grateful for Friday’s, as I sit 
with a glass of wine, listening to 
crickets out the open windows 
three floors down. And then, 
in the distance, speeding vehicles 
tempting fate at 1130 PM on I-86.


Wednesday, October 11, 2017

Human Condition

It's so different now.
The games are hard
and the price is high.
I'm lost in the dust 
like an aimless passerby.
I can't predict 
where the truth will appear
but I've waited for you
year after year.
I believed in forever 
from the day that we met
I know that you felt it
but no permanence just yet.
I meant it, those words
that I laid on your lips
In the quiet of our embrace
when I tasted your kiss.
I miss you in the dark 
when I imagine your face
I can never sleep soundly
not knowing our place.
My words have lost you
you've forgotten my eyes
how they searched for your soul
wished it to stop my cries.
How can I tell you 
what you mean to me
when you won't even look 
at all we could be.
We all live with pain
our human condition 
that we may ease in each other
it's all I've been wishing.
Don't turn away forever
move cautiously as you leave
as I have not left your side 
but slowly, I do bleed. 










Not the Only One

He was busy having a beer
and couldn't talk about us. I said 
"maybe later then" and he said "sure." 
One word text glaring at me.
I knew I couldn't live with it. 
His vacant words: emotionless, 
safe; words that would inflame 
my normally placid ways.
Driving through two hours of traffic;
pulsing, blinding pain traveling 
the curve of my skull, landing at 
either temple, and all he could say 
was "sure." I could have said, I'm 
dying on the side of the road,
can you call me? And he would 
have said, "sure." There was no, 
"I'll call you soon" or "feel better."
Just a few simple, unfeigned words
that would so easily soothe, let me 
know I was not alone in the pain; 
that he cares. But his single-syllable 
replies left me angered inside, and too, 
defeated, as I accepted finally that
his capacity to care for others is 
greatly diminished by his own pain,
so, at least, he did let me know
"You're not the only one."