From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.
She’s beautiful, popular and proud.
Her friends are kids, from just the right crowd.
Look how she laughs, talks and smiles.
Her admirers swarm, as they walk the school tiles.
She looks in the mirror and winks at the image.
Knowing her beauty will win, in any boyfriend scrimmage.
Her clothing is perfect, ensuring that name brand labels appear.
Then tossing them carelessly, when there’s a rip or a tear.
I dare to walk up to her and say, “hello.”
My knees are shaky, trembling out of control.
She looks at me with scorn and contempt.
I feel as though I’ve fallen, and there’s no safety net.
Eyebrow arched, her words like a sword.
I’m not the kind of friend that she’s looking for.
Her laughter rings true, behind my back.
I hide in my locker to stop the tears in their tracks.
But at the end of the day, once her crowd is all gone.
She sits silent and lonely on the bus ride towards home.
Her slender shoulders sag, her head hangs down.
The bus stops at her house, her face wears a frown.
Framed in the doorway is a well-dressed man.
An angry expression on his face, a drink in his hand.
She pauses, walking slowly to the house.
Visibly shrinking into her expensive new blouse.
His loud, angry voice carries to the bus.
She cringes and cowers, afraid of his touch.
I flinch when I see his hand connect with her face.
A flaw upon her beauty that even make-up can’t erase.
I realize I was wrong about the person I thought she was.
How she hides behind an image because of circumstance and cause.
How she likely needs a friend who’ll hold her hand as she cries.
A friend who’ll look past her persona and pride.
A friend who’ll see the terrified child within.
Screaming to move away from those hidden sins.
I may not be the friend that she’s looking for.
But I can be the friend that she needs, so much more.
Excerpt from my book: Mom’s Eye View
The price of love does have a dollar amount.
The holiday season is upon us and so are the vultures. As their unsuspecting victims, they always seem to swoop down when we’re at our most vulnerable. They come at us at the time of year when we worry about how we’re going to find the money to pay for fuel, fill the cupboards with food, make the car payment, as well as buy Christmas presents.
This is when the vultures tempt us with the allure of an easily acquired, high interest rate credit card, which seems like the answer to our prayers.
Resist! Resist I say! But the pull is strong and the process so simple. Approval is almost guaranteed as long as you have a job and have been paying your bills on time. When the card arrives, just days before Christmas, it seems so beautiful; its shiny exterior lulling us into a false sense of financial security.
We tell ourselves, “it’s only a few thousand dollars, I can double up on payments and have it paid off in no time.” Or, “no problem, I’ll just pay it off after Christmas.”
Yeh right, that never really happens…most of us will only make the minimum payment and then bitch about the outrageous interest rates and how we’re getting shafted by the credit card companies. This is our punishment for being sucked into the world’s biggest scam in the first place. It’s the trade-off we make in order to indulge our expectant offspring.
As parents, we hate to disappoint our children. They’re the proof that our time here on earth hasn’t been wasted. They’re the ones who will carry on our family name, hopefully make it mean something in the future. They’re the ones who’ll make our family tree grow bigger and fill it with more apples. So, the last thing we want to do is piss them off.
They tell us they’re worthy of these gifts that they so desperately need. That to shower them with these gifts shows them the depth of our love. And if refused these wondrous commercial trinkets, the words, “you don’t love me!” will bounce off the walls of the house for days.
So, we grit our teeth and choke on the bile that rises in our throats as we agree to the credit card’s horrific and unrealistic terms of service and then reluctantly hand over a good portion of our paychecks to their out-stretched, greedy hands.
Then next Christmas when we again hear the cry, “if you loved me, then you’d get that for me!”
We’ll hand our blessed, darling children the bill from last year’s love-fest and say, “remember last Christmas when you had to have that gaming system and headset and the games to go with it? Here’s the love bill for that.”
He struggles with doing the right thing
He wants to let her go
Knows he isn’t doing right by her
But when he sees her
His heart speeds up
The anticipation he feels
At knowing how she can make him feel
Keeps him coming back
He knows it’s not love
He knows it’s not friendship
All he knows is the how the touch of her hand
On his skin
Makes him shiver
How her whisper in his ear
Heats up his body
How when their lips touch
His mind forgets everything
The longing in her eyes
Makes him feel invincible
Her hand trailing down his arm
Reminds him of the pleasures
She alone can give him
His body is hers
She knows that
His mind shuts down
And he allows his body to lead
She knows that as well
Only for a moment
But those are the moments
He can’t forget
Love is kind.
Love is sweet.
Love makes us complete.
For others…it’s a lie.
It’s the tip of the sword.
Delicately covering the heart.
It carves gently.
Smoothing over the scars,
Of an open wound.
Until it pierces the skin.
Little by little tearing apart,
The shreds that held it together.
Then the sword,
Widening the gap.
Until it becomes an open wound.
Ripping apart the flesh,
That held it together.
Leaving the heart,
Despairing over the loss,
Of once feeling whole.
It lies open.
Then thrown away,
When it has no more to give.
The sword is then sheathed,
After having conquered.
And leaves the remains,
And gelling into obscurity.
From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.
My brother comes to me in a dream
And speaks to my heart
The silence penetrates the stillness
A mist-like fog swallows my body.
My arms outstretched
But I touch nothing
A feathery lightness grazes my shoulder
Then is gone.
A quiet whisper and a playful breeze
Gently lifts my hair
But I see nothing.
A soft caress trails across my arm
Giving me the sense of something known
A feeling of trust overwhelms
A shadowy face appears
A well-loved smile shines
Through the haze.
Tells me my worries
Can be put aside
His soul is at peace.
His diseased body
Now left behind
His mind is at ease
My worries fade away
My brother is finally free.
From my poetry notebook….This Ain’t Shakespeare.
The darkened window, lit only from behind.
Shows a sharp-angled face, etched with anguish-filled lines.
As she stares, long suffocated tears begin to flow.
A life built on trust has been crushed in a single, selfish blow.
How did she let this happen? Allow her family to be snatched away?
Now all is gone. Even hope that fate would return them one day.
She stands, looking unseeingly at the face reflected back.
Her mind sees a young woman whose life was on the right track.
The man of her dreams had swept her off her feet.
Promising to love, honor and cherish til’ death they do meet.
A child was born, a sweet little boy.
Endless smiles and bliss at this wonderful joy.
A home was provided through a business that soared.
A husband who loved her, a child she adored.
Another arrived, from out of the blue.
Claiming friendship that was accepted as true.
Manipulating and coveting what belonged to another.
That the bond being built was simply a cover.
The true motivation was meant to seduce.
Not caring that lives would be shattered, and true love reduced.
The other used emotions to bait its catch.
Listening and offering kindness through a rough patch.
The catch had been easily tricked by the bait.
More stroking of an ego made it worth the wait.
Reeled and then eaten by a prey too fierce.
Unconcerned how the wounds would hurt and pierce.
Guilt overcomes, and a confession needs to be made.
Begging forgiveness, making promises, in order to stay.
Eyes blink and she sees once again.
The reflection of a woman cast aside for her sins.