A secret I want to tell you,
that is
You
are among those people
who make
this world a lovely place
by reading only,
Like stars to the universe,
You function the same to poets.

I'd appear on your house
  drenched in what the weather pours
  knocking on a door that I'm not sure that I'll feel the embrace of welcome
alas, for my presence is far greater
     than the weather man's forecast.

Then they'll see me
    holding my heart on my hands
hoping it'll spare me from their wrath
as I present on what's left of me
  and ask for the hand
of the other half of me.

You were born on August 2, 1948, you were a Leo just like me.
If you hadn't died, today you would've turned seventy-three.
You were unique and I truly hate that you're dead.
I wanted you to get better but sadly, you died instead.
You were a special person and that's something I'm grateful for.
But I'm not grateful for the fact that you're not alive anymore.
Many people were better off simply because they knew you.
You were a terrific and caring lady and that is certainly true.
One great thing about you was that you loved to help others.
Happy Birthday, Mom, you were truly a wonderful mother.

I learned to play the piano, by ear,
Like love, it can fill your heart, full of cheer,
Work hard, share the music, in everyway,
The love will stay with you, for all of your days.
First you must be dedicated, right from the start,
Then you must forget the rules, play from your heart,
If you love the music, want it in your life, everyday,
You must practice, all of the time, then the music of love, will stay.


Tom Maxwell copyright 03/13/03 AD

wanna be her cutman?

you’ll trace every wound, grease
all her vulnerabilities
and the taste of forged metal
will flavour your dreams

she’ll dance with you watching,
a storm over canvas
and she’ll swing for those *******
like a silk-wrapped machine  

wanna be her cutman?

you’ll watch as each cut’s inflicted
then wait your turn to touch
to your hand she’ll ever-be Vaseline slick
or sticky with blood

she’ll hide vibrant colours behind
gunmetal hues but beneath careful fingers
her scars will tell truths- and
they’ll burn fire tattoos into your heart

wanna be her cutman?
you sure?

(you’ll wish dead every guy
has her over ropes or on canvas, but  
she’ll be eyeing those guys while
you’re fixing her up)

Here's to the women who stay strong.
Here's to the women who got men
To admit they were wrong.
Here's to the women
Who became mothers.
Here's to the women
Who don't take crap from others.
Here's to the women
who are struggling.
You got this. This one's for you.
Thank you for everything you do.

I had some things to say
-and as the age wages on
and hope starves
as love lures the moon and the sun,
I find once more
I'm full of words for you.
Simple minded hearts suffer the most;
caring deeply has its cost.