30 Days Makes One a Poet?

It's no surprise that I can do this
It just takes a sec to get down to it
Think of something and then expound
Upon the rabble that has me bound.

Sometimes it's sad or melancholic
It doesn't matter I want to make this a talent
Writing out what's got me down
All so I can turn my frown around.

There's Shakespeare, Ibsen and
Chekhov - just a few who make me
Glad I have been introduced to
Their genius - poetry in motion

Upon the stage of humanity's hearts and
Minds - a play to play out what had
Them trapped and then unwrapped
A tippity-tap across the stage of our emotions.

Then there's the more conventional in form;
My boys: Stephen Berg, Billy Collins,
and Pablo Neruda - all turning words and
Hearts alike with imagery, thank God, that isn't trite.

I have 335 more days and poems to write.
Does 30 days of scribing make one a poet?
Or is this just a fancy of flight - one where
Dr. Suess shows up and says, "This isn't quite right."

Globular Bellies

I can't run and hide from the world
of women who are younger than me
getting married and the women who are
Younger than me with what looks like
The world growing under
The skin of their bellies
A globe that holds a child who will be held
And thought the world of and all I get to do
Is think of this and think how I haven't had
This offer of life extended to me, through me,
Extending out of me -  and how I
Try to run and hide from the women, mostly
younger, but older too, that have been blessed
In this way - perhaps it isn't a blessing since it
Comes in the disguise of puppies and kitties too
Who often grow up and aren't cute anymore, much
Like babies - and yet, there isn't anything cute
About a screaming blob of flesh who causes
Nipples to become raw and crack like your nerves
at 2:13 in the morning because it's all about them
Now - NOW - now, get up and deal with
Their s*!t - the one that hit the fan in their pants,
The diaper wrapped so lovingly around
Dimpled, ham hocks of legs, calling your name
Selfishly? to clean up the mess they made.

This is something that breaks me. Not having this,
feeling I have missed out, and am continuing to
Be ignored by God - I have left quite a few
Voice mails He just hasn't responded to... yet?...

I can't escape other people's blessings.
It feels like someone has taken a pillow case,
Filled it with broken glass and hit me
Repeatedly in the face with it...
Look what I have, that you don't?
You don't? I'm sor-
I don't know what to say -

Then don't say anything!
Just shut up and quit blushing
And gushing and ooohhing and aaaaaawwwwwing
Around me - oh right, you have the 1st Amendment
And I must respect it -

Send me to an island, alone
So I won't be exposed to life -
Being made, being lived, being had and
Not by me.

I am worn down. I don't think I could support
A life within the walls of my uterus,
I think it would be hostile because I have been
From the pain of being trapped in a reality
Not totally of my own making, but
What I have had to take/assume
Because my life isn't that bad even though
All the hopes of being a wife and creating life
I have have been dashed -
If only it could be this - kind of -
And not -'d dreams upon the rocks of heart break.

I will not be strapping on a "Baby Bjorn"
I can't close my eyes to these "miracles of life,"
I am one too - but feel a fool to have not
Crossed the threshold of the altar of marriage
In order to bear the kind of life to warrant
Not wanting to gouge my eyes out so I will
Miss out on the beauty that will continue to
Happen around me until the day I die.

My globular belly is filled with food;
That's the life I carry under my bulging shirt
Around my middle - so no more questions,
"Why aren't you married yet?" or
"Do you have children?" because the answer
Will be, until an unforeseen time, that I wish I could see,
"No - God hasn't answered those prayers.
He has seemed to put me on hold...
Maybe for eternity."

Heaven Sent

I'm a woman. I want certain things

My way - or it's the highway.

Either the higher way of learning

What I can and can not stand or

Teaching someone else MY plan.

Man you better get out of my way

Because if you're going to continue to play

Step away from the curb called my face

Because I will get all up in yours and

Tell you about yourself and you won't like it -

Don't worry I won't make it easy like you

And the little games you've played -

I am coming down to the ground from

My perch in Heaven - I am an angel you

Have not found, you have been graced 

By the presents of my presence and

I'm looking around for, and it's all I need,

Just one good man who won't rob,

Slob or blob all over me and my friends.

Often we come as a team - me and my girls.
Don't try to break in - we are tighter than
Levi 501 Jeans after being washed on hot.
Shrink to fit into our world or move along.
We are thicker than thieves,
Stronger than a bull in a china shop, and we
Will never stop looking out for one another.

Pay up or shut up, we won't back down
We're already on the ground - zero
Lookin' for a hero - who will not turn
Tail and fail, but see a woman who is
An angel in disguise, without lies or ties
To pain, strain, or disdain -
What are you waiting for? Jump
At this chance or you will
Not get a chance to dance into our hearts.

I am a woman. I need certain things.
Read between the lines. Read me.
Read the fine print or don't even bother
Apply to try and win my heart.

Ugh! So much 2 do!

Mind running amuck;

This totally sucks!

I want to be free

But my negative energy

Gives me a pain in the neck

So I think, "What the heck!"

What would you do if you were caught

Between a rock and a hard place and were taught

That you must have the faith to win the race

Otherwise you will continue to fall from grace?

Get up, dust off, get up, fall down -

Get up, dust off, get up, fall down -

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out!

1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2 - 

Oh my gosh the stench is repulsive!

What a to do!? It smells like doo-doo

What would you do if you were trapped in poo?

I gotta keep going. I need some assistance.

I want to reach out but it seems such a distance.

Get up, dust off, get up, fall down-

Breathe in, breathe out -

1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2 - 

Fine Bone China*

How is it that once upon my

Teenage dreary I could

Scream and cry and be all teary

About one boy, having said,

"I could never live without him."

I have.

I did.

I am broken because of this

Profession of faith in a boy...

So many - who grew to be

Men - who never grew in love 

With me who I couldn't see

Myself or my way out of love

With their cold indifference and

Blatant disregard for the meal

I served up so elegantly on 

The silver platter of my

Fine bone China heart.

Why must we get broken down

into ash to be added to clay that is then

Thrown onto a wheel and spun 

Round and round just to make

A plate worthy to be used -

Used to selflessly serve or 

a cup to be filled and poured out 

always for someone else who is clumsy and

Invariably drops and shatters us?

These ravenous men were always 

more concerned with

What was being served on the china 

Than the china itself - some would

Beg to differ and some did beg for

The delicacies of femininity that

Should have been hidden in the

China cabinet, safe under lock and key.

It takes earth, wind, fire and water to 

Make fine bone china... it only takes

One careless, aloof, heartless man-child to 

Find the key hidden conspicuously,

Steal into the cabinet and break it all to pieces.

Baby Tashi

Light as a feather,

Plush as a cotton ball,

Squirmy like a worm,

She warms my heart.

White and orange spotted.

Fluffy too... I want to take her home, but

BOO! No can do!

I want me a kitten so

I won't feel so blue.

Not Strangers; Future Friends

Phony smile and laugh.
Looking at, but through.
Nothing there... yet.

Then the reach for
The same thing
At the same time.

"Oh, sorry. Go ahead."

Genuine laughter from
Slight embarrassment.
Eyes meet and lock just
Long enough to connect.

"That's my favorite..."

You fill in the ___________.

"Mine too."

Giggle. Mega-wat smile.
Conversate long enough to
Discover commonalities;
Email addresses exchanged,
Phone numbers too.

How'd you do that?

No one's a stranger
                                          but
                                                  a
                                                      future
                                                               friend.

"N" Titled

I cry every time I see

You
Love

Him

Me

Alone

Baby

Bouncing

Crying

Dying

Lying

Laying

Down

Law

Can I getta

What! What!

What?

You don't deserve

A thing!
"But I'm,

"N" Titled,"

You say.

Entitled to what?

"Uh what! what!"

Exactly. What?

"Naw! I'm "N" Titled.

That's my name.

Ima spit some game so 

You can see what 

I got to give and what 

I take so you can live:

You
Love

Him

Me

Alone

Baby

Bouncing

Crying

Dying

Lying

Laying

Down

Law...

Give it up!

You ain't me; 

You're not

"N" Titled 

to NOTHIN'!"

What!
What?

When

When will it end?
The anxiety,
The fear,
The wondering,
"What if?..."
"How 'bout?..."
"Why not?..."
"Why?..."
"When?"

When will I arrive at
The places I have strived for?
Where I can thrive and have a
Drive - for it has been lost, or
It has lessened... I'm just
Surviving - the damage accrued
Over my lifetime, to my
Heart and mind, have almost
Stopped me in my tracks...

Remember when "when" meant
Stop? Stop filling the cup so it
Won't overflow...
WHEN to the unknowns in my life -
I mustn't stop on the tracks; the
Train is coming.

Time to Freak Out

I have so much to do
In preparation for
Getting a life
Outside
the
Classroom.

I am not sure what
Else to do but
Find the time to
FREAK OUT!

There's the need for an
Apartment that doesn't suck,
A job that doesn't suck and a
LIFE that doesn't suck as well.

Forrest Gump's Mother might have
Had it wrong.

Life is NOT a box of chocolates,
You KNOW what you'll get
If you don't do your part and
Participate in the intricacies that
Create joy in your being...

Burning Up...

I've often thought and said,
"Oh, it doesn't matter what happens
to my things. They are just things.
Besides you can't take them with you
When you die."

But when it does happen what do you do?
Freak. Out. Period. End of Story.

This is what happened the other day.
Had an incredible flying high kind of day and then
BAM!
I got knocked outta the sky by a fire...
One that consumed not my belongings but
My spirit.

I know I need to keep going even when the
Flames are licking my heels, but after a while
You get so weary from fighting the blaze,
Often alone because others are afraid to approach and be
Good Samaritans - I guess because of that new law that
Doesn't protect them - so who would do a good deed,
If they thought they'd get burned?

Thankfully, I have friends, who do not mind getting
Close to the glowing embers of my pain and help in
Extinguishing it until the next blaze tries to engulf me.

Dear Dad

Dear Dad:
Did you know I didn't know you loved me
For the longest time.
Your harsh words, delivered at the most
Inopportune times seemed to stop me from
Loving you - this was my fault for I didn't
Realize that what you were trying to do was
Prepare me for life...
The broken hearts from mean men who's
Truly harsh words, delivered at the most
Inopportune times hit with a force I was not
Prepared to absorb the shock of...

Your love became more real when I left -
Ran away from the pain inflicted by the
Critic in my head that said,
"There's NOTHING here for you!
It's time to leave. Be on your way.
Find greener pastures - far, far away."

Daddy, what was wrong with me?
Why did I not learn till after I flew the coop
That your eagle like protection taught me to
Fly, made me ready to spread my wings and
Soar - and I did - sore from flapping against
What I needed: your honesty, discipline and
True love.

I want to fly back to the nest; would you
Be willing to make room for me?
It's time I cared for you the way you have cared for me,
Minus the harshness I gave in retaliation when
I thought you dished it out to me... I was a baby bird.
I didn't know that what you were trying to do was
Get me to fly safely alone from your nest to
Make it on my own.

Jen-Jen and Jo-Jo (or Bo-Bo)**

We were 6 when we became fast friends.

I loved her spunk. She loved my loyalty -

I think - we would stay up all night

slumber partying to Kenny Rogers,

The Gambler, gambling when we could

Escape the house - into the dark to

Walk the 3 short blocks to Bobby's house

My true love - She risked so much for me and

My stupid crush - it crushed me when she

was taken away from me like the time

Mr. Barf-in-the-field grabbed her by the arm,

Dragged her through the hallway, shirtless,

Not hearing her side of the story.

These injustices were just a few of the

Things I witnessed in her life.

I was 6, 7, or 8 and I kept seeing these

Atrocities done to her and her siblings and

I could do nothing but pray - and yet that

Seemed hollow and they went unanswered, and

It enraged me and made her rage - all the way to

The Principal's office, shirtless, squeaking out

Her high pitched story - 6, 7, or 8 years old and

No one knew, but me and a few others.

Why is it that the frequency at which children speak

Adults can't hear it - don't hear it, don't want to

Listen to what's there even if they have to wade

Through the crap that stinks, that seem like lies, to

Find, discover, uncover the truth like the blankets

We threw off ourselves to roam the streets so

Dangerously late at night to selfishly pursue

MY LOVE?

I will always love this friend, her resilience,

her spunk - we escaped through the window in

The living room - one of the rooms she lived in

That she had to survive too many injustices only to

Hide it all beneath a veneer of hostility directed at

Many because so few cared...

Jen-Jen, I cared and I still do - I don't think you'll ever

Realize how much your friendship meant to me.

Yeah, we were just babies really, delivered to different

Families and homes and circumstances - but we were

Delivered to each other as friends... I hope you've

Experienced justice being exacted in your life,

The justice I wish I could have provided when we

Met at 6 and saw you needed at 7 and 8 and...

17 Days In...

It feels like a year has occurred in 17 days!
Who knew trying to be poetic
Would be soooooooo hard like the enamel
That used to be on my teeth before I discovered
Coffee, tea, wine and soda.

These addictive beverages captured me;
Why hasn't my muse as of late?
I don't want to be worn down, left without
Protection on my choppers to create!

There was a time when I could spit a rhyme
Doing it while thinking nothing and on a dime.

If it could be that easy again and make an indent
Then I would feel vindicated and not pay rent
To the negative thoughts that take up residence
In my brain matter as squatters using violence
To get my attention to keep moving on -
Say something, write something - another thought GONE!

Dr. Seuss how'd you do it?
Your "Green Eggs and Ham"
have me quite hungry
Fiending for Spam -
A cheap amalgamation of protein to feed
The Beast of Creativity so I don't bleed
To death from being cut at an artery
Losing too much hot blood of ingenuity...

Swimming in a pool of red are similes, galore -
Drowning like Ophelia unloved - so sad, I do abhor!

Must pull it together - find something to say -
I guess it doesn't matter since no one has to pay!

Salsa

She was just a white girl in
A sea of brown boys
Seemed out of place
Was she just a toy?

The music came on and
He took her to the floor
Couldn't speak his language
But it mattered no more

Bacchata, cumbia, merengue, banda
She didn't know these names so
She let him dip her into what
She knew how to eat: Salsa!

Spicy, quick, 1-2-3 on the 1 or
The 2 - he helped her find her feet
While he lost her in his gaze -
Hearts beat together, spinning on the floor

Lights way down low, nobody would clown
This white girl could get it without being brown.

Limericks for Amelita

There once was a girl named Amelita.
She had a knack for eating pita.
One day she took a bite,
And found it not right.
Now Amelita eats cheetah!


Licken's is Amy's fat cat.
He's often a big ol' brat.
Lays all over her bed,
Pretends that he's dead -
So she uses him like a mat.

Standing no taller than 4 feet,

She tries her best to greet

anyone who walks by -

can't lookum in the eye

Because Amelita's too petite.

Fireflies - Lightning Bugs

Never sure what to call them
But they call to me every June
When they rise out of their grassy tombs
Bleating their abdominal lights to their
Own tunes...

Their miniature incandescence beckons me
like the male of its species and
I am taken unaware by the mosquitoes that
Devour my flesh as I become hypnotized
by the whimsy that is their simple twinkling beauty
while chasing these magical insects through fields -
All the while the female firefly seduces and
Devours her mate - no longer singing,
"You light up my life,
You make me whole..."
Perhaps,
"You light up my life,
You make me FULL... " to carry on
Our brilliant species...

Never sure what to call them,
but they call to me and their male counterparts:
One to death, the other to reliving
Sweet memories.

Geology ROCKS!

Magma and lava may melt my bones, but
Pumice will only buff them!




I know it's short and sweet, BUT it ROCKS!

If you're into geology you'll get it; if NOT - sorry; sometimes poetry is hard to understand.

P.S. Khadija M. (at Lincoln Park H.S.) helped me with the title and inspired me to publish this already written poem from the STONE AGES - since that's when I wrote it. (HAR HAR HAR!) :)

Wings

I'm always last minute
I struggle sometimes to get to the point
because I can't find the write words
the perfect, exact word... words

A friend yelled at me to get to my point
I realized I was acting like someone in their 90's
suffering a... like I am now... to unearth...
to... another word for find...
the right words again!!

I was exhibiting symptoms of
not amnesia... but that other mental disorder that
Occurs when you have had trauma to
The heart or mind
A stroke... I think... or an accident
Where you've hit your head not
From banging it against the wall for ideas
But... gosh, what is that called???

Arthur Kopit wrote a play about a
Character who had it... I assisted on
that show... it was heartbreaking like
My realization that, just like I'm not patient
With slow drivers and folks who just don't
Seem to "get it" right away, this "friend" was
Doing the same thing to me... frustrated
At my inability to speed it up so she could
Pass me up on the information highway
in sharing her idea she was waiting
So impatiently to offer in the diner booth
We shared...

Aphasia.

Children of the Congo*

Distended bellies

Heads cocked to the side

Quizzical looks on their faces

As the trucks leave them behind

In their wake a cloud of dust and dirt

Hidden all over the childrens' bodies

I can't turn the channel

I don't want to stop staring

They can't see me

They don't even know that

I look so intently at them

Wondering

Why

Them

and

Not

Me

Skinny like the words above

Tiny too and yet if you stack

One on top of the other like words

You find power in them and their

Collective voice that speaks through

Their eyes ablaze with fractions

From murdering their own

Minds washed to do it without remorse

Cleaned up mentally makes them a mess

Makes them mess up other peoples' lives

Makes a mess of mine... they have

Punched so many holes in my heart when

I walk my heart whistles a dirge

I can not purge the sadness I have collected

Channel surfing through their lives

Exploited without knowledge

Knowing they have been left behind

So many times by others who hold the

Power to exact a change if they would

Take control of their remote controls
Stop surfing long enough to see

Distended bellies

Heads cocked to the side

Quizzical looks on their faces
As we flippantly flip on by.

East Foothills

Sitting in my bedroom
Staring out the window
The Foothills stare back.

Something about their height
Looming above the gray clouds that
Loomed above my heart, felt safe and comforting.

I am homesick for this sight -
The mountains held me safely in their basin where
I floated on my back staring up at their grandeur.

Anywhere I looked they were there
Surrounding me loosely enveloping all I loved
Even the memories I shouted to them to forget.

I can't get over their immovable strength
The only thing that moved them was my faith
To leave them...

I have put my hand to the snowplow and
Have looked back... does this mean I am
Not fit to return to the Foothill's protecting shadow?

Miranda Rights

Beauty in the not knowing of what's being said:

The story is told through the international language of

The body - a nod of the head, a smirk in the right 

Corner of the mouth, an expulsion of air through the nostrils

Before the laugh pushed out from the belly greets

You across the room tapping on your shoulder

Politely introducing themselves to you by

Requesting your attention...

First glance and you're arrested - 

Immediately manacled -

You need the same kind of restraints put on your

Breath as it is rapidly taken away in the squad car

Of his kissed with red wine lips and the way they

Turn up ever so slightly at the corners - 

The siren of your heart can be heard for miles around and

Gets the other dogs to barking - TURN IT OFF!

You only want to be taken into custody by 

This one dog who has stolen your will to look away.

You can't help but look; your attention has been abducted.

Now all you can do is stare at this burglar of your  5 senses:

Skin the color of coffee with one hazelnut 

International Delight Creamer single.

Olive green eyes minus the pimentos.

Curly black hair.

Muscles just taut enough to give the appearance

Of not being self-centered, but acquired through

Living, working, playing and praying right, 

Long and with abandon.

"Ha ha haaaaa!" his entire body gracefully guffawing

Cancels out what he says next in a very foreign language

That when translated must mean,

"You have the right to remain silent."

I have no words. I needn't any.

His otherworldly beauty has vanquished

My vocabulary and rendered my mind useless.

I am under arrest and 

I can't...

won't...

don't...

object.

So You Think You Can Dance

OD'ing on an 8 inch sub. AND
Egg foo yung
Night at the Roxbury head bounce to the right
Whilst' watching lithe bodies
Defy gravity on the boob tube

My turn to try it
The couch sucks my posterior back down
Into its forgiving of my girth cushion
Junk in the trunk has sunk me for the night
Flight has been delayed

Feeling betrayed by weight... wait
It doesn't matter I am not working for coins or
The other things that fold
I'm awaiting the grace to grace the stage
So I think I can dance too.

Acer Pensylvanicum Infructescence

They come in spring
With hope found in the weather that
Helped form their green wings

Conjoined like Siamese twins
Umbilical chorded to the fragile life source
That nourishes their beauty

One day clinging fiercely
The next found on the ground beneath
Shaded by their life-giver's trunk now tombstone

After some time they are not surgically separated but
Separated by the dryness breathed on them by the
Brutal heat of change

Brown with age, broken apart as much by nature
As by choice - they fly off haphazardly in all directions
to their own graves in the gutter, planter boxes,

Or twirling between the thumb and forefinger of a daydreamer
fantasizing about having just discovered dismantled angel wings
piled in a heap waiting to be used as a helicopter for blessings.

Morning mourning... Mourning morning...

I am not a morning person.
I never have been or so my mother says.
I am not a mourning person.
I do not know how to mourn.
My mother needn't vouch for that.
It is a fact.

Whether I am mourning
morning has rudely announced its arrival
via my sub-center wake up call or
the shrieking squawk of my alarm clock...

or come morning I'm mourning my need to arise from
the selfless warm embrace my bed and bedding tirelessly provide -

I know this much, it all sucks...

Morning and mourning...

Don't die in the morning...

I'm not a mourning person.

Soft Shell Crab

Soft shell crab sandwich
Try it; it's so good.

I worry about the shell.

Don't. The crunch of the bread masks the
Deep fried crispiness of the
Soft shell... once you bite into it
You won't notice it like identity theft.

Love bites like this...
Just let your canines cut through the
Surface, squish into the body
Scorched beyond recognition.

Imagine the mother of this soft shell crab
At the crime scene shrieking like a lobster
Dropped alive into a pot of boiling water,
"My baby! What happened to my baby!?"

"M'am we are sorry to report that your child
Volunteered to be a hero so some human's
Taste buds could triumphantly report they had
Consumed your soft shelled son."

"My baby, my baby - AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!"
"WHHHHHHHYYYYYYYY!!"

"M'am we believe your son was involved in
Some questionable activities on a mission to
Take down unsuspecting humans by poisoning them via
His suicidal death served up on a grilled with butter
French roll."

Thinking about it makes me sick in the stomach
Kind of like how I felt when one of my ex-boyfriends
Dumped me during a conference I was attending...
Like I'm reliving the squish of the guts coming out
When I cut the sandwich in half...

It was all slimy, green, pus-E and gross.
There was nothing heroic about this poor
Creature sacrificing itself for my non
Enjoyment.

I convinced myself I could enjoy it...
That it tasted good after the shock of the
First five bites wore off and I no longer
Thought - I just methodically submitted to
Masticating the corpse of a helpless...
Heroic
Cock roach of the sea
On a mission.

It wasn't like I was jumping off a cliff,
But that is certainly how my stomach felt
A few hours after ingesting this delicacy
Wrapped delicately between the warm,
Crisp, buttery halves of a french roll.

Somepoorforlorn soft shell crab mother
Is mourning her loss
I too am mourning my lack of losing the remains of her
Son into the toilet bowl.

I can't even think of what I did
Without getting nauseous...
Kind of like when I went out with
him... Air-Nesto...
Love bites like this.

A 2-Fer... Or Maybe More.

So my friend and I have decided to write a poem a day for a year. We began this endeavor on June 1st, 2011. Yesterday I missed my regularly scheduled poetic penning. For this I must do pen-ance (get it? HAR HAR!!) and write TWO poems today whilst saying a "Hail Mary." I jest. I will not be saying a "Hail Mary," but I will be writing two poems... haikus, at that. I hope this does not seem like a cop out. Writing haikus is not as easy as it seems for the writer must, ""paint" a mental image in the reader's mind. This is the challenge of Haiku - to put the poem's meaning and imagery in the reader's mind in ONLY 17 syllables over just three (3) lines of poetry!" Let me know if you think I captured and executed the art of Haiku after you've read what I offer below:


Chris #1
Rumbling voice of gold
Juicy full lips softly kiss
Good bye to my heart

Chris #2
Skyscraper strong, tall
Blocking views to other men
Barred entrance to heart

In the interest of not seeming to be over someone I once really liked, I think I need a 3rd poetic offering. Triptychs are just cooler than diptychs - sounds like dipstick anyway - so who wants to read diptychtical poetry (even if that phrase is full of rhyme and alliteration)?

Chris #3
Can't remember when
It ended without as much
As a "glad to have known you"

Christophe #4
Band-aid ripped off - OUCH!
Dropped off at the curb - clip! clop!
Through the door alone


Chris #5A
My girl-friend at prom

My boyfriend slung on her arm

What happened to US?

Chris #5B
Prom with someone else

She was smug with gloatful joy

She called me friend - NOPE!

Chris #6
Opened my heart wide
Spoke lines of wishful thinking
Lips uttered nothing

Chris #7
Must get over this
Ridiculousness to feel
Like a crushed present

Chris #8
Held hands, lead forward
Maze of teenaged emotions
Navigated bad

Chris #9
Euphoric feeling
Cool night air while, "palm to palm"
"...holy palmers' kiss..."

Chris #10
In Your Eyes, the light,
The heat. Your eyes - incomplete
I am found - unloved

Chris #11
Moved on like the tide
Rushed back into the sea now
Other fish to catch

Chris #12
He must be my Muse
STOP! I can't let that happen
Unforgettable


Obviously, this turned into a a tribute to an unreachable boy I once loved doused with angst from my teen years. I guess I should be happy I can channel it creatively. I think these Haikus are quite good. Let me know what you think...


P.S. I changed the titles because I used the boy's whole real name as the titles. That's not a good, ethical or professional thing to do. I am not trying to make anyone feel anything but nostalgic about their awkward teen years.

Buff It Up

Diamonds in the rough
They need just a buff
to make you go, "OOOOOOHH!"
and make you go, "AAAAAAWWWW!"

There's nothing quite like them
to make you feel enlightened
When they grace your neck
They make you say, "what the heck,
Let me write a check, to
Cover the cost of what's gonna be lost
On this investment of bling
Not found on an engagement ring."

I am a diamond in the rough
I just need a buff
to make a man go, "OOOOOHH!"
and make him go, "AAAAAAAWWWWW!"

There's nothing quite like it when
a man feels inspired to
want to take the time to
dig in the mine
of a woman's heart to see
what can start to shine through the
surface of the grime covered bauble that
just needs some elbow grease to
release the resplendence of this lady
who just needs time to be found
beneath the sheath of squalor
accumulated over hours of broken
hearts and promises.

Diamonds in the rough
They just need a buff.

Inhale, Exhale, Breathe...

I have been
waiting to
exhale

To expel the air
in my lungs
to let it go
out into the universe with
the rest of
humanity to
be free

but

I have been paralyzed,
Seized with the phlegm of
disbelief that is
clogging my lungs

I am choking

but

God sent an angel to give me a
swift smack on the back to
aspirate me back to reality

It is good to
breathe
easy again
anxiously
but to do it
on my own with
just a little assistance

Don't get me wrong
I don't want to be
abandoned
to my own devices
again

I
need
you

I
need
to see
the rise and
fall of your
chest to
know you are
inhaling and
know
that I have
someone who is
exhaling with
me
too.

Yay!

Another
goal
achieved.

Inhale.
Exhale.
Breathe...

Fearless

There was this time
When I was free
I flew on wings that looked like trees
I had a way of moving forward by
branches that branched off the trunk
of my tree-like wings - supported by
this root system that dug down deep
and held fast to faith, hope, and love
Did not face fear because it never showed
its visage - because it knew if it did it would
get erased by the whipping wind of change
through the leaves that dipped down along the
lake's edge where it grew reflecting
a ruthlessness not to be crossed like
a mother bear with its cubs...

Let it out
Sing
Shout
Don't give in again to
the pain that comes from the
Familiarity of the routine of
Knowing what's next and
What's comfortable...

Breathe
Squeeze
the life out of every last thing
You encounter...

You DO only have
One life to live after all
So live it out
Without
Fear...

Do you hear?
Did you hear
what I just said?

Jump
the thump-thump in your heart
will beat the blood that you need
into all the places that need the nourishment only
blood
sweat and
tears can bring...

Fear squelches
the cheers from the
crowd that is awaiting your victories in
Ignoring the hunger that comes from starving that
Nasty beast
Insecurity.

This, too, can be done.
You are breathing,
Aren't you?

Attack and
don't
look
back.