Friday, May 31

Train Tracks

Man built the tracks of steel and wood
for progress is the force that pushes us through

Laborers clinked and clanked all day
for hardly a viable living wage

And when the tracks were set as stone
along came rolling the fiery throne

Blowing smoke as dark as mud
expanding outwards like a flood

For years the animals lived in terror
scurrying away at the faintest tremor

Until Progress became obsolete
in its place came a new fleet

Of mobile cars, great automobiles
able to move with their free wheels

And what of the tracks laid to rest?
the ones that stretched from east to west?

Slowly were they overcome
by natures calm, insightful drum

Vines crawled and carried their way through
flowers of all shades, pink, yellow, and blue

And the trees formed a tunnel over the tracks
allowing only sunlight to filter through cracks

In their now immense canopy of cure
a bandage of leaves for the awful wood-metal scar

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Thursday, May 30


She                                                                                                     cabs
      never                                                                                        into
             thought                                                                   climbing
                        she'd                                                     alleys
                                do                                            dark
                                     the                                    in
                                          things                   tricks
                                                  she      turning

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I poke my fingers into the dark dirt
the moistness of the soil clinging
speaking and promising
to take care and nutrify 
the little friend I plant
deep into the hole 
goes the white roots 
hiding from the sun
and only the smooth green stalks
now sing to the sky
I bless the plant with a downpour
letting fat drops plop
and slowly sink 
like lessons learned 
on sunny afternoons


A mishmash of happenings
one-a-penny, two-a-penny
Here we go again!
The elephant over the moon
Mama's Jambalaya
and is that dear old Aunt Sally?
The lover is getting away
he's riding a horse that looks like a robot
and my teeth are falling!
I'm chewing them up
tasty bubble-gum teeth
Hang on!
the world beneath my feet
is sliding like a see-saw
now I begin to fall
straight down a well
until I splash into the ocean
where a shark wearing a
pink tutu waits for me
he's sitting in an inflatable tire ring
But now the police is following
they are pulling us over!
I heard their siren blaring
again and again
until I realize I am  now awake

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Tuesday, May 28

Shutting My Eyes

Shutting my eyes
brings the face of abuelo
patiently listening

patiently listening
to my tale about the tree
and how I almost fell

I almost fell down
from that knotty tree
I say and point


I won't be a baby
when I turn thirteen
but a real teenager
who can watch PG-13 movies
and go on dates
and when I go to the library
there'll be no more books
from the children's section
I'll slide into the young adult's area
where they have the cool chairs
and read love stories
like Romeo and Juliet
maybe I'll even have a pimple
and will have to buy some Neutrogena
and have a sleepover
so that me and all my friends
can splash our faces with water
and laugh
at our now clear teen-age skin

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Monday, May 27

Vive La Difference

It's not that we're not modern. Trust me, I went to college and not for my M.R.S. degree. And yet? If I didn't make it a point to go grocery shopping, we'd starve. If he didn't carefully lecture me about all things electronic, I'd revert to only reading books and never touch the computer/DVD player/new-gadget-whose-name-I-don't-know-and-don't-care-to-know. 

We tried the 50/50 thing. I'd do the dishes one day and he'd say he'd do the dishes the next time. Only when next time came, he said "later." Later became a week later. By the time he got to the dishes, they were nearly touching the ceiling all the while my fingers where twitching to see such a disaster. I do the dishes now.

When it came to driving, we decided to make that fair too. I'd drive to and he'd drive back. That lasted until I broke the door handle on the passenger's side, forcing passengers to either roll down the window and reach for the outside handle or wait until the driver kindly opens the door. Now guess who doesn't get asked to drive anymore! I can't complain. I never did like driving and it does feel nice to have someone open the door for me, even if it is for reasons other than pure chivalry.

We'll be married a year next month and while all is well (our love for each other has only grown), I have to say, vive la difference

The Pool Game

With a coy little smile she enters the room
where the boys are playing the game
gathered around the felted pool table
cue sticks and baby powder on their hands
she watches the game, cue ball striking hard
colored balls dropping into baskets like bullets
and with her hand on her hips she pouts
until a boy notices her displeasure and
lets her join the game
he curves his arms around her body
and shows her how to shoot
with care he lets each word out of his mouth
explain how to aim
the first time or two she scratches
and laughs, she's a novice
what can she do?
But when the boys place a bet
her eyebrows furrow
her lips purse
and she begins to shoot
straight, hit the ball
make it bounce
let it ricochet off the side
angled shots
hard shots
impossible shots
and clack! clack! clack!
one ball, two balls, three balls
make it in
The girl extends her hand
as the boys begrudgingly pull out their wallets
with shocked and pained expressions
having to pay up

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Sunday, May 26

Black and White

Black and white
silky ink slithering through pristine waters
perfect curvatures form
reminiscent of bending flowers
when the camera clicks
and the moment is captured 
for all eternity

Tuesday, May 14

People are like Puzzles

People are like puzzles
that you put together over time
as you get a piece here and there
over a coffee
at a meeting
a brief encounter at the store
you put the pieces together
the red corner piece
is a temper
the blue edge is loneliness
you fit the yellow bit in
with the white one
and find it forms a flower
of friendliness
the puzzle that looked promising
winds up with gaping holes
and the puzzle that seemed so easy
takes the longest to piece together

Sunday, May 12


I am twenty-four
And yet I need my mother
Standing by my side

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A Violet Celebration

Violet hues sweep the room. It is the color of choice today, dancing playfully among the whites and creams. Each table has a floral centerpiece from which violet colored flowers seem to explode. The cake catches my eye and it too has violet swirls climbing up each tier until reaching the top which is, of course, christened with a violet bloom. Long touted as the color of harmony, these violet shades seem more to be enjoying themselves, quietly laughing  and smiling with joy.  I look down at my violet dress, the dress of a bridesmaid, and appreciate how perfectly the hue of the fabric blends with this room. Standing perfectly still, I allow myself to blend into the sheer violet-ness of the room and become part of the celebration.

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Saturday, May 11

Spring Breeze

What is spring fashion?
The gentle wrap of warm air
Called by all, "Spring Breeze"


The morning is clear
The night is thick
The raven's wings are black and slick
And if I pause to breath today
I will not see end of it

Give me a heart
That pumps a river
and twist my insides into a bow
Though I cleave, I tend to shiver
Send me spiraling until its slow

One day it'll stop
that's a false promise
dancing on a tempter's tongue
I take my chance, come what may
And pray that I will not be hung

You Put the Lime in the Coconut

My shoulders start shaking
A beat goes off in my head
You put the lime in the coconut
I am dancing instead

Pum, Pum, PA, Pum, Pum
Pum, Pum, PA, Pum, Pum

Now that we're dancing together
Things are getting hot
You put the lime in the coconut
Wiping out every blot

Pum, Pum, PA, Pum, Pum
Pum, Pum, PA, Pum, Pum

You know, Baby I like you
We can do this every day
If you put the lime in the coconut
We can dance until May

Put that lime in the coconut
Lime in the coconut
Lime in the coco

Six Word Saturday

I can almost taste my vacation.

Sunday, May 5

Dead Chrysanthemum

Dead chrysanthemum
A memory of last week
When you were still here

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I planted a kiss on top of his head
it was fuzzy
I moved my kiss to the side of his face
it was fuzzy
I pursed my lips and met his own
it was fuzzy
deep inside my heart-
it was fuzzy


Young Woman Picking the Fruit of Knowledge, 1892 Mary Cassat

Illumination starts from within
the deep recesses of the mind
and comes spilling outward
like a storm
one thought at a time.

Saturday, May 4

Six Word Saturday

Wedding bells ring this beautiful morning.


Mother Rose enters the room and in her arms-the babe. Her rocking imitates the gentle movement of a small skiff upon a calm sea. "Sleep my child, and peace attend thee."

The suckling child allows his eyes to rest for a moment but then frowns in frustration. He begins to whimper and then to cry. "Sleep my child, and peace attend thee," the mother whispers once more.

With child still in arms, she sits down in her rocker, humming a little tune. A smile forms on her face and love pours through her song. "Sleep my child, and peace attend thee." The child soon falls fast asleep.

Thursday, May 2


This is the day
This is the day
That the Lord has made
That the Lord has made
I will rejoice
I will rejoice and be glad in it
and be glad in it

The voice of children's singing wafted through the air, reaching the old man who was at this time crossing the street. It was a Sunday morning and a Sunday school class was in session.

The old man pondered to himself. Is it really a day for rejoicing? At his age he found himself poor and forgotten. Too old to work and lonely ever since his wife had passed away. He frowned a little as he neared the church building. He would cross in front of it on his way to the liquor store.

Just inside one of the little singers became a little distracted. Fidgety Penny Williams always had a hard time sitting still during devotions. Without the teacher noticing she summoned herself to one of the glass windows and peered outside. With her brown curls and red ribbon atop her hair, the little doll was quite a sight to see.

"Why is that man not in church?" Penny cried out when she saw Mr. Treppit. "It's Sunday school! Everybody should be here!"

The window, being cracked open to allow the spring breeze to permeate through, allowed also the shrill voice of Miss Williams to carry through to the ears of the deplorable Mr. Treppit.

Quickly he turned his head towards the building and saw the young child.

His heart gave a stir as he recalled his own grandchild. How many years had it been since he'd last seen that little one?

"Hello!" Penny called through the window. "Aren't you coming to Sunday School?"

Surprising himself, Mr. Treppit replied, "Why, you know? I think I am."

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In the moments between
white and black
I twirl around in grey
until sudden clarity
has pooled in me
to spill allover my paper
I spill more than words
a gentle rain releases
and after the rain
I am left twirling again in grey.

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