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Unexpected


Image found at diamondlighthouse.com

Image found at diamondlighthouse.com

It was the turn of the youngest prince,

To open a box of shells,

Inlaid with jewels aplenty.

He did lose hope,

But was utterly confounded.

He cracked the filbert,

And it presented him with a cherry stone.

 

Two princes in want of a crown,

One king not wanting to part with his power.

Taking leave of their father,

Two princes set out to prove their obedience.

Where their journeys may take them

Is uncertain.

Whoever returns first,

Obtains the crown.

The second prince was

As sure of obtaining the crown,

As his brother had done.

Opening an elegant box inlaid with jewels,

He perceived his piece of cambric.

He was now confounded,

Muttering his displeasure

At the white cat.

The cat returned his displeasure

With a scratch.


Cold, cement steps with an

Equally cold railing attached.

Long breaths as I climb the steps.

Open the door,

Smells of grandma’s Italian sauce.

Old Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra songs

Play in the background.

It is warm, small, yet inviting.

The scent of light perfume

As my grandma hugs me tightly.

A feeling of being safe,

It’s the safest spot in the world.

Singing along with the music,

Loud voices chatter about

The latest family gossip.

There is a clock that chimes each hour,

Like a diligent soldier standing guard.

Football game in the other room.

Men are shouting at the ref’s call.

Everyone sits down to eat.

Food is love.

Food is family.

Lots of love and warmth,

Security, safety.

Some of the only consistency

In my life.

Happiness to be

near my beautiful grandmother.

Comfort.

Boisterous and loud talking, laughing,

Having fun with each other.

I don’t want to leave.

Remnants of my childhood

Linger there.

My happiest days

As a child were spent there.

Pain of the loss

of days gone by.

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For Antonio Miguel


Photo by William D. Wright

Photo by William D. Wright

He’s the best thing I have ever done,

My son, my light, my life, my choice.

When he was born my light almost went out,

But I knew I wasn’t going anywhere; not without him.

When I look at him, I still see a three year old,

Innocent, naïve, still the smell of baby about him.

He is what has saved my life many times,

I know not what my existence would be if he weren’t born.

His voice is like the dawn of a new day,

Filled with hope, unconditional love and comfort.

I know I have shaped a beautiful legacy,

When I look into those beautiful brown eyes; much like mine.

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Need for Solitude


Image found on idealistrevolution.org

Image found on idealistrevolution.org

Beyond all

of the noise of life,

The wish to be alone.

I give looks to my loved ones,

Like the “Grumpy Cat.”

I want my space; go away.

I don’t want to hear

Mindless babble about

How you spent your day.

My fleece blankets,

Soft like the fluffiest of bunnies.

They become my sanctuary,

Peace and rest.

It’s my space,

You will move things.

Get the fuck out

And leave me be.

 

Aloneness is what I crave,

What I need.

Recharge, regroup, refresh, rebuild.

No words, just mindless yammering

Of the TV that I really don’t want to listen to.

 

Snuggling deeper with my favorite monkey,

I’m have no cares in the world.

Beyond all of this,

The wish to be alone.


Image by William D. Wright

Image by William D. Wright

Quiet man,

Always smiling,

Always joking.

All of my friends loved him,

Wanted their dads to be like mine.

Hardworking; never complained,

Slivers of metal in his beard

From the foundry.

Never let anything stop him

From supporting his family.

He always found a way.

Carried me on his shoulders

Everywhere we went.

I was “daddy’s girl” for a long time,

Until my teenage years.

Then it was like he no longer

Understood me.

Didn’t know how to handle me,

Or my wildness, my urges

To break free of him, of authority.

Always the protector,

Always where it was safe.

Recliner, TV, a beer,

And sunflower seeds.

Saturday Night Live.

 

Never yelled back

Loved us even when

Me and my sisters

drove him nuts.

He’s proud of the things

I have done for myself.

Sometimes I don’t think

He knows what to do

When I show strength.

 

I find him

in awe of my survival.

Tired, missing his parents

who passed away.

So tired, body aches

From a lifetime of

Hard, physical work.

Never complained,

Fixed our cars,

Mowed the lawn,

Shoveled the snow.

No, girls can’t do that.

Sometimes old fashioned

In his ways of thinking.

Loves to cook for everyone,

Happy when people

Enjoy his food.

Sauce, salsa,

He’s proud of himself.

 


Image found on Huffingtonpost

Image found on Huffingtonpost

My addiction is in my past,

It doesn’t define me.

I’m sorry I hid behind it

For so long,

Used it to forget my

Past hurts,

Used it to take away

My pain.

 

My addiction,

Holds me no longer,

I am free.

I let it go,

I run, I fly.

I’m sorry

I wasted so much

Time when I

Could have done more.

I am not my addiction.

It does not define me.

My Constant Beloved


Wise eyes now fading,

Always smiling,

He is a Cheshire cat frozen in time.

I look at his thread bare face,

And it fills my heart,

Like a wine glass spilling over.

 

Sitting in the car next to me, safely buckled in,

Watching the scenery out of the dusty window.

And he rides bitch on my rocking horse

As I play the heroic cowgirl.

My words never frighten him;

He absorbs them quietly.

I return from my daily adventures,

And he is there,

A piece of furniture that never moves.

When it’s dark, he is light,

He’s my oldest love,

My Curious George,

Forever my beloved “Georgie.”

Image found on YouTube

Image found on YouTube


dark_tunnel_by_mgren322 deviant art

dark_tunnel_by_mgren322 deviant art

Anxiously sitting in the sterile smelling doctor’s office, I wait for answers.  Mouth dry, heart racing, I think of other things that make life more pleasant.  My dog, traveling, the love of my life, my child.  The doctor enters and I smile, knowing that this is like when someone feels constant joy that keeps them paralyzed.  I eagerly wait for her words, now bouncing in my seat.

 

“I’m afraid we do not know what is happening to your body,” the doctor says, her tone all business, but a tinge of empathy shows in her eyes as if she is trying to make the situation seem not so bleak.  There are no answers for me today.  No answers like when you ask a weird question that no one wants to comment on.

Here comes the darkness of fear, the unknown hopelessness that comes when you think your favorite fairy tale won’t end well.  I struggle for composure, my hands shaking like a person about to accept a marriage proposal.  My will is weakening; it is slowly shredding and coming apart, like the meat in a Chipotle burrito.

I am a strong woman, but the darkness drowns me until I fight for air.  There is no light at the end of this tunnel.  Only the train coming at full speed.  Nothing but more darkness, pulling me down; it’s a brick attached to my leg that I drag along with me wherever I go.

Concubine


The Tang Imperial Consort Yang Guifei. Picture taken by me at The Minneapolis Institute of Arts.

 

She is mystical to behold,

The colors, her strength.

It delights the viewer,

And sparks awe and curiosity.

 

Sh­­e hails from the Tang Dynasty,

Lines graceful and deliberate,

Her dress swirling about her slender figure

Like a shimmering, gossamer cloud.

A large red peony beckons,

Cannot go unnoticed as much as

She who wears it atop her large

Pompadour of lustrous, shadowy hair.

People of the court snicker and whisper,

As she walks with her love, head high.

Others cheer for her and smile,

Treasuring even the smallest glance from her.

A storm blows in; trouble is afoot,

Accusations of treason bring her down.

Once a goddess cherished by an Emperor,

Becomes a woman tragically executed.

Anchor


Lovers in Chicago by Bill

The Clyde to my Bonny, he is unwavering protection.

Arms like The Hulk, hold me tight as salty tears flow.

His voice is my favorite song, an earworm in my consciousness,

He keeps the vile beasties at bay when the bile of fear rises.

My Plymouth Rock, always steady, as my knees crumble,

I try not to taste the abyss, the black bitter Nyquil that gags me.

Hopelessness threatens to overwhelm as I gasp for breath.

Clyde is there, he is warm sunshine on a summer day,

Invigorating me as strength recedes, water rushing out of a pool.