Mama Say

Mama say.
Mama say go to bed early
And wake up early
To see a new day
Being born.

Mama say.
Mama say dream big dreams
And take small steps,
Taking care to see the destination
Without tripping over the obstacles
Along the way.

Mama say.
Mama say learn the rules of life,
Then create your own rules
Because rules are like shoes,
One size doesn't fit all.

Mama say.
Mama say fight hard,
Fight smart and even
When you back is on
The mat, keep fighting.
The fight isn't over
Until you win or you quit.

Mama say.
Mama say mold your life
Like it's clay, let
Your hands form the curves
And the straight lines.
At the end of the day,
That piece of art is yours
To enjoy.

Mama say.
Mama say smile,
Everyone is frowning
And angry nowadays.
Be the sunshine
In a cloudy sky.

Mama say.
Mama has a lot to say
And one has the choice
To heed her words or
Experience it for oneself.

In either case,
One has to learn the lesson,
So wouldn't it be easier,
Wouldn't it be better
To listen to what
Mama say.

Call

She would call out
For him. A low wail
Building in crescendo
And crashing through
The night and my slumber.

Between moans and groans,
She would call his name
And he never answered
Her call. He was never
There to answer her call.

As I lay awake,
I would imagine her calls
Were limbs, hands stretching
Out through the here and now
To a plane where no one
Ever returns.

Her arms extending
Through the shallow
Night, trying to embrace
A spirit that is
Lost to her forever.

Before, I would run to
Her bedside, wipe away
The sweat from her brow,
Wrap my arms around her
Only to have her push me away.

I was not him and
She wanted him not
A poor substitute.
Before, by heart would
Break.

My heart would crash
To the floor and I
Would run for the broom
And dust pan to sweep it up
Before returning to my room.

I would want her
To want me as much
As she wanted him,
Want me not as her
Nursemaid, her care taker,
But want me for me.

I had accepted the fact
That she would always call
For him in the deepest
Of her slumber, because
I knew in the stark sunlight,
It was me she would call.


Submitted to Poets United Poetry Pantry #210

Now Available at Smashwords and  Amazon                

Willing To Love

The train drew closer
And I waited patiently
For her. It had been
Four months, twelve days,
Seven hours and 15 minutes
Since I last saw her.

Her letter said she
Was coming for good,
That she was looking
Forward to moving to
The little Spanish city
That was my home.

The train emptied out
And between families
And lovers reuniting,
I waited patiently
For her. I waited
Till the little station
Was almost empty.

Then I felt a tap
On my shoulder, I
Turned around to find
The train's conductor,
A letter in his hand,
A mix of sadness and
Pity in his eyes.

He didn't speak,
I didn't speak,
The letter left his hand
Coming into mine.

He walked away,
His mission complete,
A weight, a burden
Now gone, soon to
Be forgotten.

Alas, this weight, this burden
Was now mine,
I walked across to a bench.
As I sat, I opened the letter.

Words swam in and out of
My vision, in and out of
My understanding like
Fish escaping the water
Attempting to fly.

I had read the letter
Once, then twice,
It was only on the third
Reading that I truly
Understood.

In a daze, I walked
Through the city, the
Vibrant colours I had
Come to know had bled away.

I walked to a my neighbourhood,
But passed my abode,
Making my way to the bar
Down the street from it.

I parked myself on
A stool and asked
The bartender, a friend
Of mine, for something hard,
Something to dull the edges.

He didn't ask,
I didn't tell.

Between mid-afternoon
And midnight, I drank
To forget, I drank
To dull the pain, I drank
Till the bartender, the friend
Refused to serve another
Glass of slow death.

Instead at two past
The witching hour,
He delivered me to my home,
Placing me on the bed,
Water on the bedside table
And a bucket on the floor.

She never came, instead
Pain was my companion
During the months that followed.

Eventually it eased from
Sharp to dull like
A butcher's old knife.
Then it became an ache
That returned only when
I remembered.

I stared to forget
Thanks to Maria, and
Maria became Isabella,
Isabella became Bianca,
Bianca became Carmen.

As Carmen slept in
My bed, I returned to
The letter for the first time
In a long time.

In the letter,
She said she loved me
But she was scared,
She didn't have the
Wherewithal to jump, to
Take a chance on
The fickle emotion
Called love.

For the first time ever,
I didn't feel sad,
I felt angry, and in
That anger, I tore the
Letter up, offering the
Pieces to the flames
On my stove top.

I returned to my bedroom,
Stopping at the doorway,
Watching the woman sleeping
In my bed, the woman
Willing to take a chance
On love.

Her eyes opened and on
Seeing me, a lazy smile
Spread across her face,
"Vienes aqui, mi amor,"
Reaching her hand out to me.

I went to her,
Wrapping myself around her.

The pain was gone,
The anger was gone,
Love for some one who
Loved me replaced it all.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

To Ginny

She lay on the sofa,
A rag doll version
Of her former self.

I wanted to say
Something,
I wanted to do
Something,

But the words
Would sound too
Blunt, their edges
Piercing the delicate
Skin of my daughter.

I wished Sheila was here,
I wish she would
Embrace our progeny
And coo soft words
To her, while I stood
Close by, nodding
And agreeing with
Everything Sheila said.

Sheila was gone,
Lost to us in a sandstorm
Of dust and lust, and
The last I heard she
Was four towns away
Living the life she
Couldn't live with us.

It became too much
For me and I walked
Over to the sofa,
Sinking into the plushness
Beside my Ginny.

She looked at me,
Eyes puffy, nose red,
I embraced her, resting
Her head on my shoulder,
I let her cry, hopefully
The last of her tears.

I let her pain, leak into
Me, I may not have the
Right words, but I have
The right intention.

I know her pain, and
Even though I could
Not remove it,
I could let her know
That someone still
Loved her, still saw
Her as beautiful,
Precious and worthy.

We stayed that way,
Father and daughter,
For most of the night
And when the sobs
Turned to snores,
I carried her to bed.

As I left her room,
I heard her mumble
Through the net of slumber,
"Thank you, daddy."
I nodded and left the room
Quickly, not wanting her
To see the tears in my eyes.

Over a bottle of Jack,
I mourned the loss of
Ginny's innocence and
Her entrance to the world
Of heartbreak, and I prayed
That she would be stronger
Than I ever was.

I raised my glass,
"To Ginny."

Sacred Moon

Sacred moon
Sitting in the sky,
Tell me a story
And promise not to lie.

A story of real men
And real women
Who have faced beasts
And slayed them
With much speed.

Sacred moon
Sitting in the sky,
Tell me a story
And promise not to lie.

Tell me a story of
Love lost and found,
Or perhaps one of
Love found and lost
That shows that the
Broken heart will
Eventually heal.

Sacred moon
Sitting in the sky,
Tell me a story
And promise not to lie.

Tell me of a girl
Or perhaps a boy who
Went on a journey,
Only to return broken
Having to be rebuilt by
Those who love them.

Sacred moon
Sitting in the sky,
Tell me a story
And promise not to lie.

Tell me a story that has
Played out before you
As you take your
Journey from east to west.

Tell me the story so
That with quill and parchment,
I might record it for
Prosperity, so that I may
Remember and others may learn.
Sacred moon
Sitting in the sky,
Tell me a story
And promise not to lie.

My Hero

 

source

Mary Beth was my hero,
Not more than a few
Years older than me
But she knew things,
I had yet to learn,
Yet to understand.

Yes, there were times when
Her harsh words assaulted me,
Lashing into the soft skin
Of my child size ego, but
She was there to protect me
From those who tried to
Belittle or hurt me with
Unkind words or actions.

I used to work so hard
To be like her, I would
Dress like her,
Comb my hair like her,
Try my very best to
Stand like her.

She would say
I was mocking her,
But in reality,
I wanted to be like her.

Years passed and
As sisters we experienced
Joys and pains, times
When not a word was
Spoken to the other and
Times when we only
Spoke to each other.

We did not grow to
Be perfect people,
My sister and I.
We grew to understand
And respect each other.
Most importantly we learned
To rely on each other.

We were there for each other
Through our parents' divorce,
Through unplanned pregnancies
And graduation celebrations,
Through abusive boyfriends
And finding the loves
Of our lives.

Mary Beth was my hero
And now she is
My best friend.

I Was Okay

source

The hour was 10,
That hour when workers
Were assimilating to
The work environment,
Looking up for a brief
Moment to acknowledge
The hour and return to
Whatever paid their bills.

Instead I sat in an empty
Cafe, lights twinkling above
Despite the sunlight flowing
In through three great windows,
A brick wall to my back.

I should feel like that, though,
My back to a brick wall,
I was down to my last dollar,
My rent was due in two days
And my boss, my ex-boss,
Informed me that my services
Were no longer needed.

Instead I sat in an empty
Cafe, enjoying the solitude
And the quiet, observing
The people passing by,
Sipping on a cup of coffee.

For the first time in my life,
I didn't care. I didn't care
That I didn't know what
The next step would be,
The next move on the
Chess board that is my life.

All I knew and cared
To know was this moment
That will flow effortlessly
Into the next with no
Interference from me and
I was okay with that.

I was okay.


Submitted to imaginary garden with real toads and dVerse Poets

Willard

Willard.
Willard was his name.
Not William.
Not Willy,
Nor Will or Bill,
But Willard.

Willard stood 6ft tall,
Maybe more but
I never had a
Measuring tape around
When he came by
The farmhouse that
Pa built.

In those times,
They called it courting,
I called it sniffing around,
But Ma and Pa liked it
As every time Willard came by
He would bring news
For Ma's ear or
An extra hand for Pa.

As for me, he would
Bring wild flowers.
A whole mess of them,
Ma would have me smile
And put them in a pretty
Vase bought specially for them.

I didn't like Willard,
But I didn't hate him
Either. He was like
A stranger you saw
Often enough that
You end up liking them.

First, I like the way
He laughed nervously when
I told a blue joke.
Then the way his sandy hair
Would catch the last rays
Of summer sun.

I liked the freckles
That came out in May
And said goodbye
When the harvest moon
Said hello.

I liked his smile,
Not the nervous one,
Or the polite one,
I liked the one that
Was full of mischievous
That mirrored mine at times.

Or the one that
Could only be described
As proud when I told
Mary Sue, that little know it all,
Where to put her
Pretty, little nose.

When a summer turned
Into a year and
A year into two,
When puberty brought
New surprises and emotions,
Willard was there.

When Pa got sick
And Ma became Ma,
Pa and Pa's nurse,
Leaving me to fend for myself,
Willard was there.

Then Willard was gone
For a spell or two
And I felt a sadness
I never knew could exist
Leaving me listless and cagey.

Then he came back and
I swear, though Ma said
Not to, it was like
The sun came out from
Behind the clouds.

When he came back,
He took me down by
The river where the big
Oak tree stands
And out of his pocket
Came a ring.

I said yes before
He could ask the question.
Yes, I love him,
Yes, I will marry him,
Yes, I will live with him
In sunshine and rain.

Willard is his name.
Not William,
Not Willy,
Not Will or Bill
But Willard,
The man I love.


Submitted to Poets United's Poetry Pantry

Le Happy

source

I went in search of

Happiness,

Searching the world

For a little patch

Where I may revel 

In complete and total

Happiness.

On a side street

In a small French town.

I found it, Happy

That is. A bright yellow

Store front with the 

Words Le Happy

Written on the wall

And the window.

But it was not what

I thought it would be.

It was happy but 

It was not the type

Of happy I was looking for.

So I walked past Le Happy,

And went in search of 

My version of happiness.

A happiness that is a mix

Of good novels and spicy

Pizza, of rainy days and 

Long hugs. 

Happiness

For me is not found

In stores and places

But in my heart, 

In my interactions,

In my triumphs even

Though I failed so

Many times before.

I stopped searching 

For Happiness,

I create it and 

Embrace it.