Voluntarism

It's one of those things,

it sounds good when ambition bites you,

And you look at an empty calendar,

Worried about staying home all the time.

Sign up,

Make plans, 

Do good;

Volunteering as an activity

when it comes down to it;

another to do on the list,

altruism and organization

at its finest.  

Phobia

Phobia poem

It's real, really,

a fear of fears,

When your mind is convinced

you are invincible,

and fear is a failure,

rather than cautionary; 

phobophobia.

Wired

Wired

I'm on a tight rope,

Waiting to fall when I lean back

Or forward

Or sideways,

I'm wired on coffee

Wishing for the right answer

Without the angst.

If Only....

Imagined Life....

If I had chosen another, 

I'd be in Carolina, wearing orange,

Gazing at a naked white strip

Where commitment used to be;

My mother would be in my living room

Everyday

Instead of a voice through the phone.

An innocent child world be wearing 

Orange too,

Wondering why 

Daddy ran off with an old girlfriend.

If Only...

If I'd only called,

Reached out, 

Apologized and empathized,

When I was scared of my own

Weakness;

Maybe you wouldn't 

Haunt my dreams.

Wires Crossed

Chewing through wire,

Intent on breaking in

And nesting amid soft pink snow;

High pitched squeals of indignant righteousness echo

As the bb pellets miss, barely;

The eviction of the squirrels.

Stay or Go?

Stay or Go?

A soft, pink bed beckons,

with little hands and arms reaching up,

Desperate for one more hug,

One more talk.

I reach down more often than not,

and stay,

Because she's my only,

And ignore the dire warnings 

behind me.

Sometimes,

when sleep is overpowering me,

I go,

And also let go of the guilt 

then, too.  

In the Cards....

A hurricane comin,

Anger and hate swirlin,

Betrayal exposed

A realization

It wasn't in the cards

Life still rolls on.

The Bulletin Board

I know you don't look here,

But please,

Grab milk and wine

Every time

You run to the store.

Poem about a picture

Majestic purple hides

Dark, lurking green

And I marvel at the millions of dots

That make up the canvas

of waterlogged lilies.

Metronome Patterns

Metronome

Clock

An incessant 

Predictable

Assault on the quiet morning.

The pattern is set--

Wake, work, sleep;

With no pause for breath.

Anger Management

The storm surges,

Overwhelming rationality,

Bathing her eyes in a a gentle glow

Of red.

The pounding quickens,

Hearts dance erratically;

Red hot words spew forth in waves,

And it crescendos.

The deep breath,

The eye of the storm,

Will give a chance to pause

And evacuate

Before any more damage is done.

Clemson 2000 (Senior Year)

The swampy oppressive heat 

Each August 17

triggers

That feeling

When anything is possible.

Marching between yard lines

Saddled with expectations,

Dripping with sweat 

A signal of a new year,

New possibilities.

I am filled with longing,

A wish to restart,

Hoping to wiggle through chains of adulthood.

But my emergence flew by,

Captured only in bright pictures

And faded memories.

Up and Lift

​

Up and Lift

Rubber mixed with sweat cushion the

Guttural sounds;

Staring

Cursing

Fighting against

Sometimes winning

Iron, and will.

Beautiful long muscles

Dancing across impossibly strong backs,

Arms, Legs.

All preparing to lift up and

Win;

While impossibly lithe and pretty,

Letting others judge

Their perfection.

Poetry Wednesday

Stop

Breathe

Re calibrate

Reconfigure

And begin again.

Old Letters

I found a letter from 1997 I wrote you;

Sitting in 2016, it's a time capsule.

You really were my best friend

and I loved you.

I read a line about the boy I crushed on,

who, when I ran into him two summers after we met, 

wearing a polyester 70's disco shirt,

a small gold earring.

I said the connection was still there between us, but

knew something was different;

I had to again get to know

the man that houses the boy

who once wanted to kiss me in the moonlight.

Only,

that boy changed,

and she is a beautiful wordsmith.

I now understand why something was different between us

And you are gone.  

We memorialized you yesterday.

I cried a river and then drank wine and ate chocolate,

making my husband cry too.

God, you were so talented

and loved.

Your boys walked solemnly in the isle; 

Red, blonde, black tousled hair.

Did you know about him?  

What would you have said about her? 

I found her after you moved on,

before the beautiful service you arranged,

before my funeral dress was covered in Kleenex lint.

You both are intertwined in my memory;

dancing in the rain, uninhibited, uncontrollable, impressionable.

7/18/2016

The Distance: 1995, 2016

The Distance: 1995, 2016

Through the tunnel,

memories sharp from years of examination;

I see you dancing in the rain,

With wild abandon;

A unique voice I envied and loved.

And you are gone now.

I see him,

Beautiful and delicate,

Words like butterflies,

And the awkwardness;

I thought he was the one that got away.

I was thinking of you yesterday,

And started following rabbit holes,

Searching out what happened to him,

since I know what happened to you.

And he turned into a she.

The distance between a youthful summer,

All of us, 

That potential met;

And today, 

throwing words down between meetings,

mothering,

working,

reading.

I lost both of you 

And need to find my voice again.

Solo Driver

Solo driver

Deep breath in-

The honeysuckle permeates My memory

The same night many moons ago

The fresh smell

The possibilities as I slide in behind the wheel

Headed out for the first time alone;

The excitement for life stretching out in front

I crave that feeling

Freedom

Poetry Wednesday

Assemble

I assemble;

My thoughts, my ensemble, 

Carefully dressing in my armor.

Methodical, steady.

My portfolio completes the look;

Ready to jump in to the next job

The next stop on the line.

Making Peace

Making peace

At twilight 

The bird chirps dampened

She sits

Contemplating grace and the end

Realizing it's not up to her and others' yardsticks.

It's comforting 

But also hard to grasp;

The reconciliation between mind and heart

Will struggle making peace with it.