I Will Survive

So many times throughout my life, I’ve been the underdog;

Problems plagued my efforts, causing me to work through fog.

But at my core, I had the motivation to do my best;

That, along with mentors–strong, was enough to pass the test.

As I grew into the woman I was meant to be,

Some recognized that I had leadership abilities;

Me, a leader, really; There must be some big mistake.

But a leader I became, and my insecurities I forsake.

So many times it takes a while to see a flower bloom,

But don’t give up, keep watering, and it will blossom soon.

Fairy Tale Truth

1   My childhood, like a fairy tale,

Was perfect in its making.

A mother, father, children

All in a house of baking.

2   Daddy went to work each day,

Making money for the bills;

Mother cooked and tended kids,

Taking care of many ills.

3   Dinner on the table

Each day at five-o’clock;

Both kids into scouting:

Eagle Scout, my brother got.

4   Mom was homeroom mother

Baking cookies, fixing food

For all the classroom children

Whether kind-hearted, or rude.

5  If there were any problems,

None were talked about;

Such silence in those rooms–

But if walls could talk, look out!


When Comes Old? inspired from J. Alfred Prufrock, by T.S. Eliot

I grow old…I grow old…

I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Yes, I grow old…But have I grown cold?

I can hear my voice speaking words, uncontrolled.

I do not want to grow old, sad and crabby;

Lord, grow me in your grace, that keeps one happy.

Even though my end may be in full sight,

Still, let me find my joy in this world’s delight.

Let me see my blessings for what they really are,

Not critical of issues both of near and of far.

Help me see the little things that brighten up the day–

The sunrise; the sunset, and fluffy clouds at play.

Let me hear the sound of my children laughing,

And let me still enjoy an afternoon of napping.

Fill me with a spirit of joy found deep within

That hangs on to happiness; not fickle like the wind.

Yes, I grow old…Yes, I grow old…

I will wear a smile as my story unfolds.

A Vine of Cute Design

This poem, “A Vine of Cute Design” is a companion poem to “A Weed of Design”



I never knew about it, this vine so new to me–

My friend said, “Look how pretty!” and I bought it just to see

The blooms that grew upon the plant; they looked like candy corn!

I couldn’t wait to see it filled with yellow buds, and orange.

I took such good care of it, but it was not to be…

The vine curled up and died; no blossoms did I see.

The next year I determined to give another chance

To three candy corn vines, and hoped the blossoms danced.

I asked the lady at the place, “What was it I did wrong?”

She suggested too much care, for neglect is what they yearn!

So now I have three healthy vines all in bloom for me;

I’ve learned how to neglect them, and let them sit and breathe.


Dear Ken, My Older Brother

I have to say, “I’m sorry” for the bratty things I did

When we were so much younger, living under the same lid.

I hated you for being the one with all the answers,

I even hated you when you had a date for dances.

I didn’t want to go to your high school graduation;

It wasn’t my idea of an event for celebration.

But as I’ve gotten older, and hopefully matured,

My love for you has changed from those earlier, sad years.

Now, I see the value of having siblings, older

To pave the way ahead, so I could face them bolder.

You were my example of so many things you did,

I didn’t think I could compete–you were way too big.

But as the years have added, I see you in a light

I never saw before, and I wish that we were tight.

I wish we lived much closer than a two-hour drive,

So we could see each other more often, and confide.

I feel that we have missed an opportunity

To experience a closeness in others, that I see.

But hopefully, we can make the best of what is left–

So when we leave this life, we leave with no regret.

A Weed of Design

When the dandelions bloom, some think of them as weeds,

But bumblebees and honey bees glean nectar as they feed.

The lovely dandelion gives nourishment, so fair,

To creatures that buzz around and fly high up in the air.

Whoever that decided that they were yellow weeds

Never enjoyed the feast that to their palate pleased.

And then, how convenient to spread the seeds so wide–

A fluff carrying them on wind to places far outside!

Who could design a blueprint so perfect in design,

But God, our great creator; the One we call Divine.

Literary Travel

I’m traveling through time and space, on pages rich with words.

There are people in this place, whose thoughts are even heard.

You may find me laughing, or have a need to wipe a tear,

But my favorite place to travel is through pages, staying near.

My ticket was bought through stores that sell the work

Of authors who write fiction, or fantasy with quIrks.

I won’t have to board a plane, or take a bus to there;

I’ll just sit right here at home, in my big comfy chair.

I meet the grandest people–some famous in their time–

And others who are common folk–not poor, and not sublime.

I’ve learned so very much from visiting their homes;

I’d like to invite them here–to travel worlds unknown.

Weapon of Mass Destruction

There will come a time ahead when time on earth will end.

Things will grow to be so bad, we can’t even comprehend.

The only hope we have is God, who settles right from wrong,

When He returns, well-armed, with His mighty angel-throng.

The weapon He will use will not be known as common

As used in battles fought by man, in wars forgotten.

But He will end it all with just a spoken Word–

For when our God has spoken, each syllable is heard.

And whatever He commands that Day, you can be sure will be,

For He commands the first and last, throughout eternity.

And He’s the Boss, so listen well, and heed what He will say,

For God will take complete control, and He will save the day!



1 2 3