Wednesday, January 30, 2013


Trying to ignore it
They turn away
Change conversation
Avoiding the horror
Of the obvious
Ridged scar
Memory of the knife
Fine line
Between birth and death
Elation and anguish
Tuck it away in a cozy little pocket
Smooth scar
Honorable reminder of
Victory of the battle
Success of healing
Joyful legacy of life
Beautiful scar

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Silent Scream

Floating above the room
Looking down on their faces
Unaware of my presence
Then back in my body
Looking up at them
Still oblivious to my consciousness
As I wander
Between life and death
They don’t think
That I can hear their frail voices
Whisper of the next step,
Vital procedure
Or see the wrinkles that
Are permanently
Furrowing between their eyebrows
Tears that seem out of place
As I keep crossing back and forth
Between one world and another
Their eyes emit a silent prayer
Wondering how they cannot hear
My piercing cries
Of choosing one side or the other
Unmindful of my dilemma
And the invisible string
That they hold
Drawing me back to this side
Until we all open our eyes

Prompt #139 We Write Poems

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Always Greener

Running from the hometown 

Homegrown soot

Closed minded, close knit

Judgmental looks

Immature taunts

Of the city of my upbringing

With dark cast clouds

Shadows that follow and haunt

Broken windows, rundown storefronts

Nauseating odors

Making me sad

Searching for a new life,

New beginning 

In a place just like home

With the familiar faces

Shared history

Rustic beauty and simplicity

That we all yearn for

Knowing your neighbors 

For generations

Comforted by the old cherished buildings

Congenial companions

Humorous characters

Making me feel wistful

For barefooted walks, 

Bacon scented breezes

The charm of the lovely dusk

In my romantic hometown

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Apology to a Suffragette

Celebrating a milestone

Clutching on to my grandmother’s

Depression glass coffee cup,

Much like her,

Delicate and frail

Filled with something effervescent

Tickling my nose and thoughts

Caressing a memory

Stern gaze of disapproval

At a party long past

Holding a tumbler of vodka

For barely a moment

Drawing her ire

Glaring back, dagger looks

Between generations

Crying out for independence,

A rebellious voice

Defiantly pouring some of that

Holy Polish potion

Into her cherished

Sparkling clear

Teetotal-ing coffee cup

Gritting her teeth

Instilling fear in the room

She drank it down in one swig

Smiling for just a second,

Remembering with a wink.

Prompt #137 We Write Poems