Our new house

I remember the night our new house burned to the ground,

I remember the lights and sirens of the emergency vehicles,

I remember the smoke billowing out of the front windows,

Cascading like a stream of tears

Slipping away into the night;

I remember watching the neighbours in their tight little aloof group,

Guiltily staring as our house burned down,

Grateful it was us and not them,

I remember the night our new house burned to the ground.

 

Voices

I hear voices

all around me,

Shadows call

and taunt me

with whispers of

Friendship

Of love

and of joy,

but none of them

are directed

to me.

no time to rhyme

There once was a lovely girl named Sally
Who about her (sad) love life would dally

In other ways she was super smart
But had challenges in affairs of the heart

She only went out now and then
Her family thought her an old hen

Worked crazy hours — her friends said it was a ton
But wouldn’t stop ’til her 401(k) hit the big one!

Finally she met a fabulous guy named Mac
But on their first date had a heart attack.

Sadly, incredible Sally died
Her family stood by and cried
and warned her nieces not to end on that wrong track!

drumsick

I do not know her anymore

I once played cymbals in her honor

I learned percussion to
compensate
for the beats she made me skip

after eight months
I loved her body
although she was
deficient in attendance
I thought if I held it
like I did in my memory
her reality would grow
out from my palms
that my palms were seeds
and her hair would
be branches
but I am not strong enough
to father roots
or nuture a love
that was between me and
a person who
grew into a habit

 

__ar.

(Addictions poem from the perspective of the lover of the addict)

Dementia’s mind

Locked inside a strangers mind,

they wait.

In search of treasured memories,

they wait.

Speaking to loved ones they no longer recognize,

they wait.

Playing a lone game of seek and find,

they wait.

Scared the second control loses grip,

they wait.

Masking forgotten words with clever tricks,

they wait.

For someone to hold a mirror up,

they wait.

To accept themselves as never to be the same,

they wait.

The answer to the question, why me?

they wait.

 

 

 

Circles

Circle dance

And circle round

Then circle back again.

 

Life is a circle

Circles in

Then circles out again.

 

Two circles joined

And crossing through

The flower of life

Begins.

Tinkerbell’s melody

Morning rays of liquid gold

wakes me up from dream of darkness.

As gems of silver trickle down my cheek

I see my death and life in reverse.

I am forever falling, bedazzled by

the shimmer from a thousand lanterns in the sky.

 

My Child Poem 16

Got to thinking today

If you had lived

If I had carried you to term

If we had finished what we started

You would be about 14 now

We’d be worried about sex

Fighting over curfews

And doing your chores

I would be practiced at being a mom

You’d be lost between being

A small child

And a blossoming adult

I would watch you with pride

Be disappointed if you failed

You’d be thinking about driving

Wondering about high school

Imagining your wedding day

And how many kids you would have

Your dreams would be Oscars and Emmys

Grammys and being president

You would be dreaming of long travels

To foreign lands

You’d be learning to be brave and generous

Selfish and timid

Reckless and responsible

You’d be looking in the mirror

Conscious of your clothes

Worried over a pimple

Brushing your hair over and over again

If you had lived

If I had carried you to term

If we had finished what we started

You’d be 14 now

You would hold my imagination

Rather than being a figment of it

You would be beautiful and smart

Awkward and helpless

Strong and dependant

And I would smile and worry

You are the child I never knew

But who lives in my heart

Every single day

For fourteen years