Naked and afraid
she curled into him
exposed
raw
expecting him to leave
everyone else did
but he stayed
and showed her the beauty
she is
and always was
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Acceptance, Love, Poetry on May 25, 2013| 2 Comments »
Naked and afraid
she curled into him
exposed
raw
expecting him to leave
everyone else did
but he stayed
and showed her the beauty
she is
and always was
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Light, Love, Poetry on May 24, 2013| 8 Comments »
Did the river know
the exact moment
it carried the sun in its currents
because all I am
was forever changed
when your light
became
the breath of my tides
Posted in Flights of Distant Past, tagged #ChildhoodHome, Memories on May 15, 2013| Leave a Comment »
A pewter clock with Roman Numerals hung on the brick wall above the console TV. A dark stained pine couch and love seat faced each other both with thick navy plaid cushions leaving just enough room between them for four small bodies to lay on their stomachs on the braided rug to watch Saturday cartoons, each girl with their own red or tan corduroy pillow to prop their arms on while our parents sat in chairs on either side of the room faces hidden behind the morning and then the evening paper.
Above the love seat was a metal map of the world as if its surface had been peeled like an orange and flattened in segments showing the continents how they were centuries ago. Within the frame atop the map, an illustration of a solar eclipse and on the bottom a lunar eclipse. I would spend hours, mostly when sick, sipping orange juice looking at the eclipses wondering if I would ever see one in the sky without risk of blindness. The love seat was the perfect place to look out the large bay window behind the couch into the back yard especially on rainy days or to watch the first flurries of winter float down to melt on the still warm ground, dreaming of laughter summer held in the above ground pool.
The braided rug rich in colors of autumn was also where my mother would lay on her stomach, head resting sideways on a pillow, shirt pulled up, bra strap undone. I would sit on her butt and ever so gently scratch her back, not to relieve an itch, but to create goosebumps with cursive movements in small waves, taking great pride when she said I did it best. I didn’t earn allowance for my chores, but this calming ritual for both of us was a way to earn a trip to the ice rink or maybe even the movies and is one of the few memories I have of her where we were at peace with each other.
Separating the kitchen and the family room was a desk and hutch in the same soft dark pine of the other furniture. No one ever sat there that I can remember or not sure there was even a chair to which to sit. On the three rows of shelves, hardcover books written mostly by Edgar Cayce and Ruth Montgomery. Intrigued by the cover, I did take Anais Nin’s Delta of Venus up to my room one night when I was was 13, and was careful to replace it fully read the next morning to its proper slot before she would notice it gone. The desk drawer on the right, underneath faded pieces of construction paper in colors no one used, dried up markers and pens without caps was the wooden toy paddle that one of us begged be purchased at the check out line. The one where we competed to see how many consecutive times the red rubber ball could be hit without missing. The one my mother beat me with leaving welts on my skin after touching an egg the color of the sky in a nest she told me to stay away from. While there are no physical scars where the thin wood repeatedly stung my skin, the emotional scars of the abandoned eggs lingered years later along with the terror and dread that surfaced every time that drawer was pulled open in anger.
Posted in Flights of Distant Past, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Grief, #Mother, #Pain, Loss on May 14, 2013| 2 Comments »
I can still see her
my mother
rocking in the fetal position
on avocado shag
uncontrollably sobbing
the day Elvis died
I wonder
if she felt that kind of pain
when she killed me
inside
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Neglect #Relationships on May 13, 2013| 2 Comments »
A collection of discards
piled high
in an aluminum boat
atop a trailer with one flat tire.
Protected
in a garage
motionless
for 15 years
along with a motorcycle
in parts
that hasn’t been ridden in 20
He holds on
to everything that doesn’t matter
while everything that does
rusts
in elements
of neglect
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Cleansing, #Insecurity, Poetry on May 11, 2013| 3 Comments »
Steam rising in clouds above the pounding stream
she steps into the scalding shower
knowing her skin can never quite handle the temperature
to purify the mind
of vulgarities
it commits on itself
with thoughts born of
fear
doubt
and
insecurity
so she breathes
and prays
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Life, Poetry on May 10, 2013| 11 Comments »
TV loud
flipping through channels
his lit cigarette burns in the ceramic ashtray
made by a six year old’s hands
Alone..
he drinks cheap beer
blurring the sounds
and sights
after a hard day’s work
trying to forget..
the jobs he chose
instead of the career
the mortgage
on the perfect house
wanted
by the now detached
imperfect wife
who sits
alone
inside
with tear filled eyes
trying to remember
when
or if
she was ever truly
loved
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged Poetry on May 4, 2013| 2 Comments »
In lieu of a gift
he ripped out the Jasmine he planted on her birthday five years before
gnarled twisted limbs
shiny green leaves and star shaped blooms
in a heap awaiting trash pick up
the scented breeze
in her favorite afternoon reading spot
now just a memory
and the small shiny stones
left in its place
a reminder
of a heart
hardened
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Sadness, Clouds, sky on May 3, 2013| Leave a Comment »
She stared into the blue
wondering
if the sky recognized her
as a grounded cloud
adrift
and ready to rain
Posted in Journey of Today, Wings of Poetry, tagged #Books, Poetry, Writing on May 3, 2013| Leave a Comment »
Immersed in the pages
of my new favorite book
I trace the perfectly placed words
and smile
thinking of
of all I want to share with you
between laughter and loud kisses
beneath crumpled sheets
with tired eyes
and in a perfect world
I would be reading each night
with you