Hour 12! (Last poem)

He glides through the room
with a smug smirk
Looking dapper in his
Black tuxedo and just polished shoes

He so eloquently holds his Manhattan in one hand
While puffing on his Cuban with his other hand

He exudes confidence and everyone
Can feel it, men & women alike
He is aware of his power
And gracefully closes business deals

And gathers a pocketful of potential romances
All the while staying in motion,
Never stopping long enough for

Anyone to get too personal
What a disaster it would be
If anyone discovered the lies,
The truth behind his disguise

11th hour


He eats anything
Toxic or non-toxic
He’s a mass, large vet bill
Oh, I wish he’d stop it

He really doesn’t have to
Because he’s a gift from above
He provides me everyday
With unconditional love

Hour 10 (autobiography of a face)

Dimples as deep as her thoughts
She hates the scar that stretches
From the corner of her left eye
Down the side of her face
If only she knew how beautiful
He thought she was, scars and all
Because, he saw her story in every mark
Her scars showed him her triumphs
The wrinkles that recently showed up
In the creases of her eyes held experiences and secrets
She’d never shared with anyone
Her smile lines which she constantly injected with Botox
Let him know just how often
She kept a smile on her face
The autobiography of her face
If only she knew just how
Beautiful her story was

Hour 9

Is it not everyone who takes distant whispers and muffled giggles personally

The ones that are conversations away, but reach your mind through your perked ears.

Does not everyone self-consciously and arrogantly assume that their passing by sparks a side glance or a condescending chuckle from the ones who otherwise may have never crossed your path, and now you feel connected to them in a strong, unyielding, sometimes unwelcomed way…

Is it paranoid to rummage through every possible thought of what they may have said or thought about you? The clothes you’re wearing, the blemish on your face… Maybe your shirt is inside out or your makeup is horrendous or your receding-hairline is an embarrassment to anyone who sees.

Are the depths of insecurities not equally shared among us all?

Hour 7

We need…
The freedom to express our truth

We need…
The courage to face our darkness

We need…
An unconditional love of self

We need…
The vision to see the bigger picture

We need…
Acceptance of what is beyond our control

Hour 7 (Yellow Skirt)

Yellow hues

Fluttering about

Controlled by her motion


She is her skirt’s muse

As she skips in the rain

Causing a beautiful commotion


Instantly I’m reminded of my favorite childhood movie, “The Secret Garden”

That I’d to get lost in as a young girl

It consumed my mind and my heart

Caught up in their intensely emotional and magical world

I’d be sucked in to the painful undertones

I remember crying every time

Even when I memorized the story line

There was beauty in their struggles, virtues in their pain

And an extraordinary bond between three children

Who had come from different worlds

Seeking the same thing, an unyielding love

Together they challenged their circumstance

With the hope and determination of even a glance

Of a mysterious garden that enchanted their hopeful hearts

And through the screen, they shared with me

A vision of love I had never before seen

Through magic and wanderlust

I had been given the key to my own mystery

The key to perseverance, allowing me

To continue to chase the beauty in spite of my misplaced trust

Hour 5 (My daughter’s p.o.v.)

Mommy is giving me that look again
I wish we would just play pretend
She’s going to lean in close to my face
Very seriously, while making sounds I don’t understand

Wait… I think this mumble jumble gibberish
The grown ups speak has meaning
Now mom keeps pointing to that picture, repeating the same thing
Let me try… “eye keen” no… that’s not it… “eyes kweem”

What is this foolish woman trying to do?
She looks so silly with her eyes so big
pointing to her mouth dramatically, too
Thinking the exaggeration will help me learn

Mom, I clearly hear you saying “ice cream”
But learning to say it is a difficult thing
If trying again will make you stop,
Then I’ll give it another shot

“ice kweeeeeeem”
Look at mommy gleam!
“ICE kweeeeem!”
I’ve got it! Mommy is smiling so big!

Yummmmmy! So this deliciousness has a name
And all this time I thought it was mommy’s silly game
Every time I wake, I learn something new
Maybe tomorrow I’ll teach mommy about my nose’s green goo

Hour Three

The two young brothers clumsily try to fish
Aimlessly throwing their fishing pole
In and out of the lake, disappointed
By each failed attempt

But, they try and try, and try again
Catching the attention of an old pro
Sitting on the other side
With his bucket full of victory

He calls the two young brothers over
And teaches them the proper way
To place their bait
Explaining, in depth, all the fishing tricks and tips

He even teaches them the language of this lake
Little does he know that he gave them much more
Than a fishing lesson under the sun
But, ultimately taught them how to father their future sons