Tag Archives: poem

Poetry: “Mine”

MINE

You do not decide.

When hearts break,
When darkness nears,
When pain rises to the surface…

You do not decide.

When fear meets reality,
When rights are at stake,
When I am lost;

You do not decide.

How I feel?
What I say?
What I do?

YOU do not decide.

This is mine.

Step aside.

mine

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American Minority

I am ashamed.
I look around my people and behold
Multitudes atop their thrones of privilege;
Masses upon their domains of ease,
Of abundance,
Of ignorance.

I am disheartened.
I witness displays of false compassion
(That extend no further than locked front doors.)
I glimpse wealth and comforts reserved
For only those of like complexion,
Like proximity,
Like beliefs.

I am troubled.
I observe hardships beyond our borders,
Anguish which my privileged land knows not.
Guilt consumes me as the truth seeps in:
These are my people.
Am I one of them?

I am lost.
Lost in an ocean of animosity;
Drowning in a sea of indifference.
(One shaky, quiet voice amidst hordes of hostility.)
Am I just a whisper?
Can anyone hear me?

Flower Garden Theory

heartgarden

Flower Garden Theory

Our hearts are flower gardens.
Each morning we arise and tend to them –
Water
Soil
Fertilizer
…and out we step into the world.
People pass by.
Hurriedly, we share our garden with pride
“Look!
Isn’t it beautiful?
Here, take a flower for a while!
Just bring it back, ok?”

And what happens?

Some bring the flowers back
Beautiful and bright as ever
Well–tended
Sometimes in even better shape than before
We put them back in their rightful place –
The garden is as perfect as ever.

But sometimes.

Some bring the flowers back…not so beautiful
They haven’t taken care of them at all
They are wilted
Withered
Thirsty
We put them back in as best we can
But they no longer belong.
They are changed.

And sometimes still.

Some don’t bring the flowers back at all.
They didn’t realize they weren’t theirs to keep
They have cast them aside
Forgotten
(Or maybe they are thieves)
The garden now has an empty spot.

Our hearts are flower gardens.
Each morning we arise and tend to them –
Water
Soil
We make adjustments.
We remove the dead flowers from yesterday
(They didn’t make it through the night)
We adjust the borders to fill in the empty spots
Our garden is smaller
But still beautiful
…and out we step into the world.
People pass by.
We share our garden with pride
(Perhaps a little less pride than yesterday, however)
“Look!
Isn’t it beautiful?
Here, take a flower for a while!
Just bring it back, ok?”

The cycle repeats.

Our hearts are flower gardens.
Each morning we arise and tend to them –
Water
Soil
We make further adjustments.
We remove more dead flowers
Adjust the borders for even more empty spots.
Our garden is smaller
But still beautiful
(Sort of)
…and out we step into the world.
People pass by.
We start to share our garden…
But the pride has decreased
(Is it worth showing anymore?
Can they be trusted?)

We change our minds.
We keep our gardens to ourselves

For if we keep sharing…
They may disappear.

Our hearts are flower gardens.
Fenced-in.
Private.
Secure.

#tbt Poetry – Aspiration

For all two of you who are reading these throwback Thursday poems, here’s the one for this week.  Circa 2002 or so.

***

Aspiration

You keep me going.
You make sure I take just one more step
Go that one extra mile
Take that final leap.
(You are responsible for all that!)
You fill my heart with music –
My mind with phrases –
My pen with energy.
What would I be without you?
Who would I be without you?

Ode to the dreams that have not yet faded…

***

medream

#tbt Poetry – Silence

In keeping with my “Throwback Thursday” poetry idea from last week, here’s one from 2011.  (Didn’t throwback too far with this one.  Truthfully, I seem to have misplaced my old poetry folder in my recent move, so I’m still searching.  I’ll get to the really old ones as I soon as I find that darn thing….)

***

Silence

Nothingness.
Quiet.
Confusion.
Silence.

Memories begin to drift back to the noise…
Back to the happiness,
the lights, the sounds,
the laughter
Spinning around at top speed on a merry-go-round
Filled with smiles and giggling children and chirping birds
“Tickets, get your tickets!”
Come ride the ride!

Then suddenly…

Silence.

Where did it go?
Was it even real?

I want my money back.

silence

#tbt Poetry – Forgotten Mistress

“A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.”
– W. H. Auden
I see everyone posting these “Throwback Thursday” photos on Facebook, so I have decided to do my own little blog version of it.  Every Thursday, I plan to post an old poem that I wrote, together with the approximate year it was written.  I used to write a lot of poetry back in the day (not great poetry, mind you) before I started writing the essay/short story style writings that I now prefer.  So, let’s dig out some of this old stuff and broadcast that old undeveloped talent, shall we? 😉

First up, is Forgotten Mistress.  Written in 2003.

Forgotten Mistress

I am looking in the window-
Standing on tiptoe to see-
Watching the life go on inside
The life that doesn’t include me

I see the family that loves him
Who will always welcome him home
I see the good times that abound
As I stand here all alone.

I wonder, Does he see me
Out of the corner of his eye?
Am I included in his vision
As the walls keep me outside?

Am I the secret no one mentions-
The dirty reminder of a fall?
Or have I already been forgotten
Not even thought about at all?

I know that I should turn away
From this sight I cannot bear to see
From watching the life go on inside
The life that doesn’t include me.

But yet, I stand here waiting
For that invitation I will never receive
And I’ll remain outside this window
Until I can find the strength to leave.

mistress

To My Valentine

“At the touch of love, everyone becomes a poet.”
Plato

To My Valentine….

Valentine’s Day’s
the time they say
to show what they mean to you;
Chocolate bars,
sappy cards,
dinners just for two

Candlelight talks,
moonlit walks,
Sweet music to serenade
One night to show
that special glow
From the love you both have made

It sounds so nice
most don’t think twice
They throw their all into this day
And while I do understand
most couple’s plans
For us, it’s not quite this way

The lives we lead
are busy indeed
And are filled with much to do
With four kids between
(and most are teens!)
Little remains for me and you

With their needs galore;
clothes, concerts and more
Birthday presents around every bend
The wallet stays bare;
(surprised we even have hair!)
And before we know it, the money’s all spent

So we find other means
(not requiring much green)
To show the love that lies within
Those arms that you place
around my waist
Those sweet dimples in your grin

The hours you spend
shoveling snow with no end
So my little car can get out of the drive
The errands you run
when I’m coming undone
From the stress of these busy lives

Your sweet, gentle ways
through these hectic days
That keeps me from coming unglued
Every kiss that you place
upon my grateful face
Shows how much I am loved by you

I hope mere words are enough
to thank you for your love
For all the many loving things that you do,
Valentine’s Day and the rest
I am loved by the best –
Thank God for the gift that is you.

valentine