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Aug 30 · 34
Our Hearts
Deb Jones Aug 30
Sometimes I think of you
And you call
Just to ask how I am doing
So you don’t feel bad
I say I am doing ok
I don’t want to hurt your heart
Anymore than you want to hurt mine
Yet we still love each other
But you can’t get over
The damage we did
When we were barely kids
I know you still love me
Just as much as I love you
But both of us think
That the love we share
Is like an old ***** penny
When we are looking for a shiny new coin
Take a second look at me
I feel newly minted.
I understand now
What drove us apart
I have fixed me
Can you fix you?
Aug 29 · 33
The Rainbow Bridge
Deb Jones Aug 29
Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Author unknown
Aug 29 · 52
Need A Hug?
Deb Jones Aug 29
We hug each other to hold all our pieces together when we feel like we are falling apart.

We hug each other when words fail us
but emotion does not.

Hugs are nonverbal communication
that bypasses any facade we put up
so hearts can connect.

Some hugs are like Velcro
when you finally tear apart
you feel as if you gave away
a little bit of yourself.

When we hug each other we share our burdens and feel lighter afterwards.

When you hug a child and feel their little arms around your neck as they snuggle in
you touch a little bit of heaven.

A hug at the right moment
and a shoulder to lean on
is sometimes what keeps us upright
and replenishes hope.

There is no feeling as pure as being held tightly by someone who completely loves you.

Hugging is free. It’s like sprinkling pixie dust.

I am a unabashed hugger
Aug 25 · 31
Deb Jones Aug 25
Don’t waste a minute on regrets
It’s better to have tried
Than to be 90 years old and regret not trying.

Don't waste your time with explanations:
people only hear what they want to
hear through their ear wax

Don’t give of yourself
More than that which
Another has given

Sometimes you have to dance with the devil
Before God steps in

Don’t squat with your spurs on
Thank me later

Don’t ever lay down with mangy dogs
Because you will get up
with fleas and probably the mange

Sometimes, when you aren’t
Looking, someone is looking at you.
So really practice the “noble profile”

Being flippant has its place
But never at a funeral

Be aware of your surroundings.
Because “objects appear closer in the mirror”
is sometimes misjudged.

And always voice your love
To someone that thinks
the moon and sun arise out your ****.
Yes, yes. I know. Some of my twisty metaphors have been penned before. But after a few of them they devolved on their own.
I am sorry you had to witness this.
Aug 25 · 78
Book Whore
Deb Jones Aug 25
I love books.
I have loved reading
Since the first thrill
Of writing a word
I share my love of books
with everyone that wants to talk about it
I have thousands on my bookshelves
Not even counting the thousands
I have on kindle
I typically have multiple books open
at the same time
I love the feel of them in my hand
The smell of them
Turning the page
The creak of the spine
Or the bright words
On a book reading device
I am passionate about it all
Especially the unique way
It has of stopping time
And saying
“Let’s not forget this particular moment”
Aug 25 · 121
Listen to your heart
Deb Jones Aug 25
In the night, after a noise filled day,
the world gets quiet
and the only thing you hear
is your heartbeat.
Learn the sound of it.
Otherwise, you will never know
what it’s trying to say.
Aug 25 · 433
Deb Jones Aug 25
If you have children, remember this;
when you finish with them
the rest of the world
has to live with them,
so please teach them
to love their family,
cherish their friends,
find a good and true mate,
be kind to everyone
and most of all teach them respect.

Thank you,
The rest of us
Aug 16 · 70
Deb Jones Aug 16
A friend recently told me that when he was a little boy, about ten, he overheard this conversation between his grandparents.

His Grandmother, asked her husband
“Edward? Do you love me?”
He wouldn’t reply.
She asked him about 5 times.
Edward finally told her,
“Delores I told you I loved you when we got married. If anything changes, I will let you know”
Aug 16 · 38
Death by love
Deb Jones Aug 16
He loved the way she talked
Even the way she walked

He loved the smell of her hair
He loved how her makeup was hardly a care

He loved the shape of her ears
He loved the curve of her knee

He loved the way she kissed
He loved her silhouette

He loved her lips
He really loved her hips

He loved her long feet
He loved to listen to her heartbeat

He loved the shape of her hands
He loved how she planned

He loved how carefree she was
How she seemed to love him effortlessly

He loved how she fit in his arms
He loved sleeping beside her

He was so proud of her
It was painful sometimes

He loved her
He loved her so much
He choked on the words
She never saw him cry
He was too proud
He was overwhelmed with love
But he never told her, he expected her to know

He just said the seemingly casual “I love you”
She needed to hear the words
She needed to feel wanted, desired, needed.
She wanted reassurance.

Then she left him
And tore his world apart

He begged for her
She thought it was just wounded pride

But today? He will love her no more.

He’s letting it all go
Jun 10 · 100
Oh, la-la!
Deb Jones Jun 10
Put a little sass in your hips
Taste of Tequila on your lips
Oh la-la! The Cha Cha Cha!
Slide together. Slide together.

Turn when you see the whites of his eyes
The small amused grin
Oh, this feels like a sin

Oh, la-la! The Cha Cha Cha!
Slide together. Slide together.

He holds your hands way up high.
While you turn
The heat of his hand on your waist…
Oh, how it burns.

Like the ballerina in your first jewelry box.
Do you remember her?
In the tiny little tutu?

Oh, la-la! The Cha Cha Cha!
Slide together. Slide together

And dip.
May 31 · 165
What do you do?
Deb Jones May 31
My friend is dying
Without any other symptoms
She went into kidney failure
Two days ago.
She started hospice today
She is 51 years old.

The truth about tragedies?
It brings some people together
While driving others apart
It feels like a tide of inevitability

Which type are you?

I mourn alone
Rather than lose control
in front of others.
This is not by choice
But by nature.

Which do you do?

I comfort others
It tears at my heart
When they hurt
Most of my tears
Are for their pain

Which is worse for you?

But the deepest wounds
I suffer
Are the ones that could
Have been prevented.
Those wounds cause me to cry
Silent tears
Or a sudden sob escapes me.

Do you feel the same?

I have guided loved ones
To die with dignity
Reassured them as they stared
Into my eyes with fear
They take parts of me with them
I give them this willingly

Do we sacrifice enough?

Sometimes those missing parts
Leave holes that leak
Into my very psyche
My soul, mind and spirit.
And that’s ok.
Because otherwise it would
Mean I didn’t love them enough
And I do. I do.  

Do you feel the same?

The following is my favorite mantra
Lokah Samastha Sukhino Bahvantu
It is a blessing to everyone in the world.
For peace and love to unify us.

How do you channel your pain?

Not only is the mantra sentiment beautiful but the sing-song sound of the mantra is very soothing to my soul.
I wrote this last year. I couldn’t find if I posted it. If I did I am sorry for wasting your time
May 31 · 112
What I once thought
Deb Jones May 31
When I reflect on my life I realize that all the certainties of my life were built on shifting sands
May 31 · 75
The Mechanic Shop
Deb Jones May 31
He dealt with the used ****** by dropping it to the stained concrete floor between the cot and the wall. She wondered how many other used condoms lay under the cot, shriveled, their guilty contents petrified by time, a sad reminder of other girls who had lain on that scratchy blanket with their skirts hiked up and ******* discarded
Deb Jones May 23
Standing, talking to friends.
At a house party.
Casually brushing back my hair and hoping someone notices my perfect hair.

Thinking, It’s time for a trim, Worried, my pants were a little tight.
I usually hang left.
This hanging right felt awkward.
Wondering where the bathroom is.

Huh? Someone asked a question. Waiting for an answer.
“Yes I agree with you” followed by a full veneer smile.

Excused myself.

Found the bathroom
Lucky it was empty
Locked the door.
Large mirror.

Immediately let out
a breath of relief.
Hunching my shoulders a bit to relieve the pain in my neck

Which gave a perfect view of the little hard ball
That was belly paunch
“Need to lay off the beer”
I whisper to myself

After a few poses in the mirror
I checked for anything
I might have left
Showing in my teeth

After a few more poses,
I think I should have
went into modeling.

I make a few faces of myself in the mirror
Here is my “Don’t **** with me”
One of my favorite
With narrowed eyes I say
“Go ahead, make my day”
I hear tumbleweeds
I have tears in my eyes.
I was that good.

I finally look for the toilet
I decide to *** “the fountain”
It’s unexpectedly tricky move.
I aim for the underside of the bowl and let go.
Oops. I pulled up at the last second.
***** all over the floor.
It’s between the toilet and the wall.
Someone will get that, I’m sure.

The second time I just corral my ***** and *** in the bowl itself.

After I am done I reach for toilet paper and dab the tip dry.

With my pants still around
My thighs I duck walk
wide-legged to the sink in front of the mirror and wash the tip.

Then I notice myself
in the mirror again

Oh yeahhhh
I look good
More poses using
my ***** as a prop

Finally done and reluctantly pull my pants up. Automatically hanging left

A knock at the door.
“Come on mister! You have been in there more than a half hour”

I open the door with a flourish

There’s a line of people.
I apologize to the mumblers

“Probably rubbing one out in there” one whispers loudly

Me thinking, I should have.

Does anyone whisper, loudly?
May 20 · 98
On show
Deb Jones May 20
My red silk dress floated around me
Caressing me
Baring parts of me suggestively

Hiding other parts that were held in place with double sided tape
The kind that takes strips of skin off when it is removed and that suggested sightings were showing more than concealing.

The click of my slingbacks
My red stiletto heels
Made me feel even more confident
Legs impossible long

Even though it was all I could do
To keep the grimace of pain
Off my face
My feet felt like they were bound in the ancient Chinese way called “lotus feet”

My hips swung to music
Gyrating to fathom music
Only I could hear
It appeared any minute I would break out in a few steps of a Latin dance
All eyes were still on me.

Man, my back hurt
Like a fire in my lower back
And the evening had just begun

My hair was pinned up in loose curls that looked like it would take just one hair pin to send it tumbling down my back

When it really took a hundred hairpins to achieve that look
And I felt the pinch of each one

A small smile was on my lips
Something knowing and secretive

The secret was my *******
were trying to be a thong
Obvious gyrating hips were a hazard
my crack wanted to call the police about

I looked around the large room
Making brief eye contact with a few that were openly staring
A few standing near me

I didn’t have my contacts in so I wasn’t sure they were looking right at me
But how could they not
My tongue felt like a bloated lump of meat in my mouth
I needed water
I didn’t drink any water all day because I wanted to fit in my dress

Finally people started talking again.
Thank Gawd. They turned away from me slightly

I could now take an energizing quick breath. I felt light headed from holding
My breath so long because I was camouflaging my tummy pouch

I finally found a seat, centrally located, where everyone could see me. Tucking my feet gracefully under the seat.  Folding my hands over my sequined little red purse

Now I needed to pass gas from all that air gulping trying to control my pouch tummy and felt my cheeks sympathetically
Inflate like a puffer fish

I rarely attended funerals.
So, I didn’t know how long this one would last. I hoped I had the endurance.

Where was the bar?
May 20 · 139
He schooled me
Deb Jones May 20
When I met you
I was flying high
The world was my plaything
The sky my stage
I shone so bright
I blinded myself

You found me
I found you
I walked into your life
Believing you cherished me
You told me I was everything you ever dreamed of

Then you schooled me
Yes, you schooled me

You washed away my brightness
You tethered my feet
You sheared my wings
I saw the feathers fall to the floor
Friends and family told me I was different
Asked me, where did I go?

I wanted to tell them you schooled me
All along that was your plan

They asked me to walk away
I replied my feet were tied
They asked me to just pretend
He wasn’t the be-all to my end-all
I replied it was too late
And when they offered me a hand
I was too weak to give one back

He had really schooled me
He took away my feeling of self

He filled me with doubt
That feeling unknown
Until I met him

He’s a happy man now
I was finally something
He really did always want
I definitely wasn’t me
May 5 · 226
Birth Day
Deb Jones May 5
Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living.
And the child born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe, good and gay
Apr 18 · 227
Moments I won’t regret
Deb Jones Apr 18
I still smell the faint whiff
of tobacco smoke
When I think of you
How comforting
I still feel the scratchy wool
Of your sweater vest
As I rest my cheek on your chest
How nurturing
I still feel safe
As I feel the deep rumbles
Of a comforting voice
Thank you for that
You won’t hurt me
Thank you for that
In a world of shadows
For a time...
You pulled me through the void
Thank you
For a while I could be
just a little girl again
Thank you
I cried when you died
I couldn’t tell anyone why
I didn’t have the words
But I do now
Thank you for being such a fine man
Setting the example
of what I should expect
Thank you for those little moments
I don’t regret
Mar 30 · 45
What does this mean?
Deb Jones Mar 30
Someone I only spoke to once wrote this to me and then blocked me.

Do you know what he means?

“ Noone here cares really if you think our photo makes a date of difference just wait about 5 years to know the bitter reality. Many are here to just put everyone to sleep on their own terms and awaken them to their strange reality. If you share truth you get bulling maggots trolls and if your enemies find your art they will delete you from the root I believe those with money rule over here . Good luck to you dream lover”

He asked if I knew a certain someone. When I replied he just went all crazy on me. His other messages made no sense either. This was his last post to me. I can’t interpret it. I have only had a few negative reactions to my poetry. I have always felt warmly welcomed here. His opinion is not mine.
Mar 30 · 81
Deb Jones Mar 30
Don’t pay attention to those who are not paying attention to you.
Sometimes people will react without fault.
Mar 29 · 213
Deb Jones Mar 29
Stress is the most common cause of an addictive behavior resurfacing
This is the case in most instances. Wether it be drugs/alcohol abuse, domestic assault, any compulsive behavior.
Mar 29 · 235
Deb Jones Mar 29
The mind is filled with dreams
From a demented playwright.
I am a sleep specialist. Dreams are made up by the dreamer. Every person is a reflection of us. Facets of us. I refer to all dreams as stories we tell ourselves.
Mar 28 · 85
All these years
Deb Jones Mar 28
When the night is long
And you feel so tired
And all alone
When tears seep from your eyes
And basically
You’ve said
All your goodbyes
To tell the truth
You have been saying it
For the past few years
Although no one
But you will know it
You cry only when you are alone
So no one else hurts
To see it
You’re not ready to go yet
You will know when it’s time
If you don’t blow it
You can comfort your family
You can bolster them up
You can smile then
And with an unclouded gaze
That’s not filled with regrets
You can leave them with peace
In their hearts
It’s the least you can do
After they have loved you so faithfully
All these years
Mar 22 · 490
Just a timely reminder
Deb Jones Mar 22
You are my sunshine

The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

I'll always love you and make you happy
If you will only say the same
But if you leave me and love another
You'll regret it all some day

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

You told me once, dear, you really loved me
And no one else could come between
But now you've left me and love another
You have shattered all of my dreams

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away

In all my dreams, dear, you seem to leave me
When I awake my poor heart pains
So when you come back and make me happy
I'll forgive you dear, I'll take all the blame

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are gray
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away
John Denver
Mar 21 · 90
When I was young
Deb Jones Mar 21
All the many made-up reasons
for all the things I've done
doesn’t seem as important now
as they did when I was young

I have memories that always linger
in the recesses of my mind
like a book of photographs
that I can flip through
of all the things I lost....
of all the things I won
and some...
of what I could never find

Some how the losing and the winning
doesnt feel so worthy now
as it did when I was so pridefully young
Mar 21 · 87
My memory quilt
Deb Jones Mar 21
My quilt is made of squares
Of all my memories
Here is some I will share

The red checked one is of my niece at 23.
She died in 2016.
The cloth shows many tear stains

This block is of an owl
My mother’s favoritue.
It carries all my wishes hopes and dreams
To see her again someday
Some way.

This piece is of me
All swirls of green
My wish to spend days full of love and laughter
You can see it’s worn thin from
Being held against my cheek

This piece of cloth here
Also harbors many tears
It’s of the man I love
The bold colors shine like him
I hope I see him soon

All these block of bright new colored satin
Are of the children I adore
They fill my heart with joy
They love me with a passion
Because they know how much I love them too.  

Here is another block
For a sister I have lost
Her block of color is bright pink
She would love it I think
I miss her hugs most of all

Here’s my father. That distant man. I chose soft heather to make his square. I wish I had known him better

This block of blue is made of words
For my brother
Now long gone
Follow the words that make a circle
A sweet poem will have been read when you are done

This block is yellowed hued
For all the things I didn’t do
For all the doubts
I held on to

Here is a block of deep red
For all I loved
And for many cared  
For the thousand times
I said I love you
And the thousand times
They said “I love you too”

My quilt is made of many colors
Including all my family, friends and lovers

When I wrap it around me I feel surrounded by memories.
Always loving,  bittersweet

Always heartsease
Mar 16 · 84
Deb Jones Mar 16
I took a summer off working/teaching in the medical field and spent it DJing at local clubs in my city. (I don't want to say which city because I don't want to get anyone in trouble) I was working different clubs scheduled almost every night. So my equipment had to travel with me. Typically I arrived about 7 and set up before the serious evening crowd came in and then started playing about 9.
I rarely had help taking in my equipment. I would usually ask the bouncer or bartender to lift the heavy speakers on the stands for me. After closing out about 130 in the morning, I had a lot of offers of help. Of course.
I also had a small dedicated fan group that followed me from club to club.
So, I was working at a club one night and there was a very sweet black kid that in my opinion was a hottie with his dreads and style. But he was a serious guy. He had been coming in to hang out at that club for weeks.
Once in a while I saw him with his brother and his friends who all played football for the state university in our city. (Hence not naming the city) they all would come on to me and I rebuffed them gently. I wasn't there to be picked up. A singular rule I had. Never meet and greet at a club then go home with a stranger.
I felt a little sorry for this kid who was overshadowed by his brother and was teased a lot. When I was breaking I would go sit with him when he was alone.
I had to dress out for the clubs I was playing. And I always wore **** clothes. Part of the glam image. I was always getting hit on and choosing to sit with this quiet sweet guy was a way for me to take a break without fending off the predators. And the drunks.
So....the final point being....
I was packing up one night and this cutie offered to help. I had packed up and was standing beside my vehicle talking to him way past closing time. When he talked with me one on one he was chatty. Sweet.
So the parking lot was empty. And the parking lot was at the far end of a huge mall. So very isolated.  
His bother and 3 of his friends drove up. From inside the car they were telling this kid that he wasn't man enough for me so what was he doing hanging with me. In a misguided effort to make the guy look good and also being ****** they were tearing him down I stupidly said something to the effect that we had just had *** on the hood of my car and it was wonderful. That I would have him over most men any day. I made a few more comments in a laughing way. Crude ones to impress on them how awesome he was. This kid squeezed my arm tightly. Clench and let go. Clench and let go. I wasn't paying attention to his warning. The guys in the car stopped laughing and all got out at the same time. They were big men. Huge.
They were saying things like "so you liked it huh?, you want a ***** over me, over us?" Etc... I still didn't get the magnitude of the trouble I was in. I had a drink while packing up and can only think it muddled my common sense somewhat.
The sweet guy all of a sudden grabbed me harder, ****** me around the front of the car, shoved me in the drivers seat, pushed the automatic locks and whispered harshly "Drive. Hurry and drive. Right now!"
It was right then I finally realized how stupid I had been. Inciting them. I started the car and while they were pounding on it I screeched out of the parking lot.
I just knew. If I had hesitated or stayed I would be hurt.

And to this day I know I had dodged something that would have traumatized me. I am grateful to that sweet kid and wish him well where ever he is.

Mar 11 · 72
I am in a jam
Deb Jones Mar 11

I have a 5 year old relative
Jace Jones
I am in love with him
He is rather isolated
Ever since he could talk
I started telling him
He had superpowers
I have done it consistently
For over 3 years
It started out
As something playful
To give him confidence
For example...
I begin to buy him full
Costumes of superheroes
He loves his costumes
He wears them most of the time
If his name was called
By a parent or other relative
I pretended I couldn’t hear
And then told him he had superhearing when he told me he could hear them call out.
( He told me recently he can hear his parents in their room with the door closed)
He loved it, I could tell
Then I told him he had superspeed because he ran so fast
I told him he had superjumping powers when he would jump from the sofa to the floor with a Spider-Man pose
I would tell him to try and read my mind and then exclaim he was right!
He has supereyesight
Because he can see
Better than me
Super toy knife skills
I told him he was the avenger boss
And his cousins and I were his minions
( His 6 girls cousins are getting tired of his long speeches and rules) but all of his cousins think he is adorable.)
He made me the only adult in his group because he needs a getaway car and driver
He wanted to paint my beautiful SUV. I was pretty fast in telling him that everyone would know who we are.
Everything was a superpower.
If I saw a new one I would tell him
And he would say in a semi casual way
“I know yay-yay”
Now my dilemma
What do I do?
Have I hindered him?
What if he starts school
Tells all the kids he plays with that he has these super powers and they laugh at him
Or worse ostracize him
He’s very sensitive
My beautiful loving boy
He’s very smart.
Exceptionally smart
I don’t know how to fix this
If he reads this one day I hope he understands I love him
And wanted him to be confident
In my effort to make him feel good, I fear I have caused him to be exposed to a ruthless awakening
Mar 11 · 124
Moo Cow Moo
Deb Jones Mar 11
I apologize for the length of this article.
It was published in a magazine
A few years ago

Moo Cow Moo
By Debra Jones

When I was 10 years old and in the fourth grade, I tried out for the elementary school’s Talent Show. My sister Julie and I had  planned a skit—we were trying to do a “Who’s on First” kind of thing but our comedic timing wasn’t the best—we kept forgetting the who, what and where. The skit didn’t impress the panel of four teachers who were deciding who would be in the show. One of the teachers, Mrs. Hudson, asked me later if I would be willing to recite a poem for the show, Moo Cow Moo. Because she singled me out and made me feel so important, most especially because she was my favourite teacher of all time, I said yes. And I really was delighted to do it!
The poem she wanted me to recite had to be done with a lisp. She sewed a baby doll dress that showed the matching ruffled *******. She made a huge bonnet with a stiff cloth-covered cardboard brim. She had me carry a huge multi-coloured lollipop that was the size of my head. When I recited the poem I was supposed to stop between verses and lick the lollipop, from bottom to top, including exaggerated head bobbing.
Do you know how hard that is to do when your mouth is dry as dust from stage fright? And I never thought to just PRETEND to lick it.
I was excited and so nervous the night of the show. My mother drove while I practiced out loud all the way there. My mother told me how wonderful my acting ability was as I head-bobbed and mooed. Mrs. Hudson was waiting. I won! First place. The parents and teachers loved it. I got a standing ovation. Mrs. Hudson asked that I leave the costume with her. I should have suspected then that I would be using the costume again. I was so proud of myself … until I went to school that Monday.
From the time I got on the bus and was greeted with “Hey, Moo Cow Moo,” until the final yells from the school bus windows as I was dropped off that afternoon, everywhere I went, everyone said something about it. At first I was proud, pleased. Then I gradually realized that although the adults were genuinely congratulating me, most of the kids were mockingly quoting my poem in the same singsong voice I had used when reciting it! I was mortified.
Then, Mrs. Hudson asked that I recite the poem in full costume in front of the entire school at that Friday’s assembly. By that time I had a full week of teasing and mockery. But because I didn’t know how to tell her what I was feeling and I desperately didn’t want her to be disappointed in me, I had no choice. I did it. With nervous gusto. With extra swishes of my ruffled **** as I climbed the steps to the stage. With extra licks of the huge lollipop. I even mooed a little louder than necessary.
Ok, a lot louder than necessary!
That was followed by 35 years of cringing every time I thought of that day—the stares, the snickers, the mocking whispers as I hurried back to my seat in that HUGE, echoing auditorium. I only remembered the first two lines of that poem. I purposely forgot the rest. Whenever I talked about childhood memories that were the most embarrassing, that one came to mind and I would tell the story and recreate the ambiance by reciting those first two lines. Always making fun of myself, but secretly still feeling the bite of humiliation.
One day recently I was telling a friend, Pa, about the poem. We were sitting in front of our computers at work. I was doing the old it-was-funny-but-very-embarrassing routine. I recited the first two lines. When I was done with my pretend-to-lick-the-lollipop pantomime, she recited the next two lines in the first verse! I was shocked! While I was making fun of myself she had quickly looked the poem up online. There it was—the full version.
After 35 years I reread the poem that had caused me so much embarrassment. I rethought the days following the talent show. I remembered the congratulations and praise during that week. The teasing that I may have mistook as all malicious mockery. The pleasure of being singled out by a teacher I loved. The ability to memorize and recite such a long poem at that age, in front of hundreds of schoolmates and teachers. The trust that Mrs. Hudson had in me to do it. The time it must have taken her to sew the costume and to find that enormous lollipop. The pride she must have felt in my recitation of her choice of poetry. And my heart aches for the little girl that didn’t appreciate the faith of a teacher. And for the years of embarrassment that stemmed from perception versus reality. And most of all, that I didn’t thank her for giving me the opportunity to shine for a few minutes.

Moo Cow Moo

My papa held me up to the Moo Cow Moo
So close I could almost touch,
And I fed him a couple of times or so,
And I wasn’t a ‘fraid-cat, much.
But if my papa goes in the house,
And my mamma she goes in too,
I keep still like a little mouse
For the Moo Cow Moo might Moo.
The Moo Cow’s tail is a piece of rope
All ravelled out where it grows;
And it’s just like feeling a piece of soap
All over the Moo Cow’s nose.
And the Moo Cow Moo has lots of fun
Just switching his tail about,
But if he opens his mouth, why then I run,
For that’s where the Moo comes out.
The Moo Cow Moo has deers on his head,
And his eyes stick out of their place,
And the nose of the Moo Cow Moo is spread
All over the Moo Cow’s face.
And his feet are nothing but fingernails,
And his mama don’t keep them cut,
And he gives folks milk in water pails,
When he don’t keep his handles shut.
But if you or I pull his handles, why
The Moo Cow Moo says it hurts,
But the hired man sits down close by
And squirts, and squirts, and squirts.
—Edmund Vance Cooke

On the last day of school that year, Mrs. Hudson asked that I walk outside with her. She held my hand and looked into my eyes and told me how smart she thought I was, that I could be whatever I wanted to be. There were, “No limits” to my dreams. She made me feel grander and brighter than I had ever felt before. And the gift of her words has lasted my lifetime. I knew I was standing in front of that auditorium of schoolmates for her, to please her. I wonder if she knew the gift that I was giving her.

Debra Jones is a Registered Respiratory Therapist in Fresno, California, who works with acutely ill pediatric patients in a children’s hospital, and a mother to three sons. Much of Debra’s childhood was spent in and out of foster care.
Deb Jones Mar 11
Let’s fall down into that intimate place
That belongs just to us

Where we meet with whispers
And sighs of pleasure

Wedge your knee firmly between my thighs
Let me ride it once again

Slip your fingers inside me
Then bring them to your lips

Kiss me deeply
Sharing the taste of me

You know me well
How to make my fire burn brighter

Mindless with pleasure
Pull me astride you

Thrusting inside
I moan with pleasure

You roll us over
I pull my knees up...

This dance, our dance
Is timeless

Of enormous thunder
And then gentle rain

We lay in each other’s arms
Passion spent

While parts of me still kiss the air
And waves of pleasure
Continue to course through me

Intimacy. Everyone should have it.
With one you love
Especially then

Then eat ice cream
I hope this doesn’t offend anyone
Deb Jones Mar 11
Any music
Reminds me of you

It doesn’t matter what I play
Pop, Rock, Country, Jazz, Classic
They all lead back to you

Alexa playing
The hundreds of songs
That I love on my playlist

They bring tears to my eyes
But I don’t stop cleaning
Organizing or reading

I stop and sway for a few minutes
The music seems to be written
For me, about me, about you

Giving weight to my pain
How clever the lyrics
Poetry in motion

But as soon as I feel pain
I ask Alexa to stop
The quiet soothes my heart

I listen to talk radio
In my car
Avoiding music

Because it reminds me of you
I can’t do background music
Right now all music reminds me of you

Someday soon it will all be okay
The tears I can’t shed
Will be locked away

I will be able to listen again
Melancholy instead of pain
But right now, all music leads to you
I can’t listen to music when I have heartbreak
Any kind of music. I once went a year without it. I know I have healed when I don’t automatically reach to turn off the music
Mar 9 · 55
The Parrot
Deb Jones Mar 9
No relationship I have ever had
Has been as passionate
As the long distance one

The words we had to say
To convey meaning
Instead of a hug

Sleeping with my cam on
So I could sleep with you

Anticipating the moment
I would see your beloved face on cam

Touching with my hand
Instead of yours

Caressing myself
While you watched

The frequent trips to see you
The anticipation of the journey

The all night conversations
Learning each other

Always texting where I was
How long I will be

Hurrying home
To see you again

The connection I felt for you was unreal

It really was unreal

The dozens of times I flew
To see you

I wanted to climb inside your coat
To be as close to you as I could get

I loved you with such depth
I couldn’t fathom it was all a game

That your words just parroted mine
That you saw me as a trophy

I believed everything you uttered
I didn’t question anything

I thought you were the world
You thought I was easy

I was being truthful
You were being devious

Happy to show me off
Happy when other men tried to turn my head

Letting other jealous women
Spread lies about me

The lies you handfed them
In your sleepy little town

You broke my heart
You broke me

You were an alcoholic
I had never been exposed to one

You drank every night
And your words became obscene

The next morning forgetting
You had made me cry myself to sleep

Meeting in the real world
My eyes would have been wide open

But I believed you
Because I wanted to believe

You damaged me
I saw you for weeks at a time

Trying to capture the man
I once thought you to be

But I never did
You had just parroted me

I survived you.
One of the hardest things to do

But I survived.
This man was my sister’s best friend. I trusted him on that friendship alone.
Even after all he had done he still texts me asking when I am visiting my sister again. He’s also married now. I thank God I am not with him now.
The things he did to hurt me....
Mar 9 · 112
Tell me your story
Deb Jones Mar 9
Tell me your life story, Love
And I will tell you mine

Jumping from turret to turret
On a castle built of words

Above a moat
That’s filled with fresh water

Words floating down like feathers
Floating gently and lazy

On the currents of time
We were born for the stories
We have to weather

Tell me your story, Dear heart
And I’ll tell you mine

Words echoing back
In the wishing well of life

Lower the bucket
Draw us a drink

Some tales
Have become extinct

You only have to say them
One more time

Tell me your story, Darling
I’ll tell you mine

Rowing down the river
Beneath the shadow of the trees

The oars are still now
The boat floating lazily

Let me soothe you
Trust me to hold your truth

I’ll trust you to hold mine
Going back, to look forward

We will share
All the good things
All the mistakes
All the shame
All the heartbreaks

The truth is sometimes bitter
The freeing of the past
Sometimes makes everything better

Tell me your life story, Love
And I will tell you mine
Mar 2 · 251
Leave them smiling
Deb Jones Mar 2
Every man I have been with
Was left smiling
At the memory of me

It’s the laughter I hope they remember

I never wanted anyone
To be bitter

I wanted to be a four leaf clover
Lucky penny

I never wanted anyone to hurt
It’s such an ugly feeling

Unfortunately I waited
Until I was alone
To cry

Just to make it better for them

Why didn’t I stay with any one of them?

Why is lasting love so scary to me?
Mar 2 · 118
Dancing in the ocean
Deb Jones Mar 2
We spent a few weeks
In Saint Augustine

Sometimes we would wait
Until the late hour

And walk to the shore
Of the Atlantic Ocean

Laying in the sand
My head on your shoulder

Looking at the stars
As if they just belonged to us

We walked into the surf at midnight
The ocean water foaming
All around us

We held hands
And danced
In that ocean’s surf

On the push and pull
Of shifting sands

While I sang softly
In your ear

I know we left memories
To smile over

I couldn’t ask for more

I once danced in the ocean at midnight
Mar 2 · 135
Deb Jones Mar 2
Live for today
Await tomorrow
Remember yesterday
Mar 2 · 82
Dancing Naked
Deb Jones Mar 2
We danced all the time
It was always a ritual of passion

A lot of times we had
the dance floor to ourselves
While everyone watched

But when we were alone
We left our inhibitions at the door

With beauty and grace
We seduced each other

We would leave our clothes
Scattered on the floor

Naked our movements
Became slower

With each glide of our hands
Each brief brush of skin

Coming together
And parting of our bodies

We responded
With increasing need

Sensuous and seductive

We danced naked and fell in love

All over again

I talked to you on the phone today
And we still invoked
The music of yesteryear
I could hear the smile in your voice
You asked me if I remembered
I do, of course I do
Deb Jones Mar 1
Through music we speak
Poetry to our hearts
It gives color to our world
It’s the shorthand of emotion
Sometimes I cry
It’s so beautiful
Music is a universal language
Among a sea of noise
Rich or poor, music is free
Sing out loud
Sing for yourself
It doesn’t matter if you think
You can’t carry a tune
Sing anyway
And when life
Becomes overwhelming
Play some music and dance
Mar 1 · 111
Round trip to Spain
Deb Jones Mar 1
I snapped at him
He looked surprised
And then understanding
The understanding look
made me angrier than ever
If I had a dollar for every time
He thought he understood me
We could fly to Spain
First class
I rarely get outwardly angry. I feel it is a loss of control.
Feb 19 · 219
Deb Jones Feb 19
His skin suddenly pale

His eyes watering from anger

Looking into the distant

Memories only he could see.

Hands folding into tight fists

By all these tells, he wore his guilt and anxiety as clearly as if he composed his confession on a blackboard with a stick of chalk.

Confronted with his infidelity

But she would pay the price

Tomorrow she wouldn’t be able to leave the house

For the next week she would spend a lot of time lying down

She forgot she wasn’t supposed to ask him questions

How could she have forgot?

Never demand the truth.

Never ask for the truth

His guilt is her pain

It’s a beautiful, terrible world, isn’t
Feb 19 · 126
Sister of mine
Deb Jones Feb 19
Together we stand strong
We are made of steel
Holding hands
Our core beliefs
Give us backbone
The values that stick
To our hearts and guts
That can’t be taken
Or pulled away.
A inherent truth
It’s wrong to lie.
It’s wrong to steal.
It’s wrong to cause harm
Its essential to find
Out why our sisters
Do what they do.
To have compassion for them
To recognize the mental Issues
That is hard for us to fathom
Knowing life experiences
Has molded them,
Circumstances have carved them
When we were carved
And molded just like them.
Why did we survive it
Without breaking.
We have been able to forgive
But not forget.
Together we let the hurt go.
Only together.
Most important
Is that we know
Everyone has a dark side.
A shadow self.
The part that exists in
Absolutely everyone
That we keep hidden
Because it isn’t pretty
Or easy to accept
Or easy to love.
You understand me.
And I understand you.
You speak me
And I speak you
I have 6 sisters. Not all of them are healthy in spirit. But 2 are my best friends.
Feb 19 · 99
Deb Jones Feb 19
When I was young...
I liked to swing high
As high as I could go
Even higher than that
And with every pull on the chains
I pointed my toes toward the sky
And when I was lost in the clouds
I hung there a second
But it seemed like a minute
Until the chains clinked
And gravity pulled me back down
Only to repeat it all over again
But those minutes in the clouds
Felt like someplace the angels would tread
Almost no adult pleasure
Feels as good as that swing did
Feb 10 · 198
A Little More
Deb Jones Feb 10
A little more laughter
A little less tears
A little more kindness
Get out of your head.
Feb 10 · 96
Blue Collar Men
Deb Jones Feb 10
They were taken in
By the fire in my eyes
But it was just a sudden flash
That burned to embers way too quick

It’s funny how I date mostly men that worked with their hands
So impressed with me
But they never really wanted the real me

Afraid to speak my mind
Because they would have
Crawled out of my bed and ran
So, my mind is something I kept to myself

Men are men
And so much pride
But I paid the price
Of building them up

I was just their arm candy
Something to be showed off
They told everyone how “smart” I was
But never allowed me to really speak

It was evident I wouldn’t stay too long
My soul craved what they could never give
Just the real me
Not the mask they made me wear

All without saying a word

In my head I snapped
But my heart stayed true
I was their party girl
I wish they knew me

It couldn’t last
Of course it couldn’t
I could never completely
Tamp down the fires that my mind built

They had to die on the pyre
Of my true self
In the fire burning in my eyes
That fire they loved so well

They took me for granted
They took away me
I had to rip us apart
Otherwise be sewn into their seam

I still love them
Of course I do
I just want a blue collar man
One that I could read poetry to

Without rolling his eyes

PS. They are , or mostly all,  great friends!
Feb 10 · 108
Thank you all
Deb Jones Feb 10
I am reading YOUR poetry
And despite the mood of the words
I find you all wonderful
I think “Oh, that’s me.”
“I should have wrote that”
So many times I read my thoughts
You all have penned
I feel naked between the words
YOU write
Thank you all for being
My Hello Poetry friends

Feb 7 · 421
Where I am
Deb Jones Feb 7
I may not be where I want and should be
But I love not being where I used to be
Feb 7 · 151
Reading you
Deb Jones Feb 7
When I read,
the sound of your voice narrates

I wonder when that anomaly
will go away

I hope it never does
Feb 1 · 125
Where did I go?
Deb Jones Feb 1
I long to reach for you in the night
I wait for the morning light
Look over to see you
are no longer beside me.
When did I give up on you?
Feb 1 · 78
When no means no
Deb Jones Feb 1
When the world doubts you
I will still believe
I will hold you up
When your past
Is pulling you down
I would give everything
Asking nothing in return
Just to make you feel loved
I would quietly whisper
And guard the door where you rest
Making sure you could sleep
Without memories
Swirling in your head
Nothing is so bad
That you would ever doubt
My intense love for you
So let me provide comfort
In a world that no longer makes sense
Let me guard your door
So you don’t have to face
The monsters from your past
It’s not your fault
You know
Why do you take the blame?
Give me your false guilt
I will cover you with
A patchwork quilt
Made up of squares
Each one a prayer
You will feel my love
Rest now, my love
No definitely means no.
Wether a whisper or a roar.
Jan 22 · 85
The weight of hurt
Deb Jones Jan 22
Hurt isn’t clean.
It’s rot.
It makes strangers
Of everyone
You thought you loved.
Once hurt touches you
You are on your own.
It doesn’t matter
What hurt it is
That leaves a hole in you.
All that stuff, they say
About emotional damage
Bringing people together?
Forget it.
Hurt surrounds
You with such
A powerful force field
Of misery,
That no one else can enter.
I know, I have been there too.
You don’t get over it.
If you are doing well,
You get used to it.
You save it for silence,
For darkness,
For three o’clock in the morning
When you can’t sleep.
When you are alone.
You feel heavier. As if gravity
Is your punishment too.
That’s the paradox of loss:
How can something that’s gone
Weigh us down so much?  
We only find answers
When we are ready to hear them.
That’s when you know
You are healing.
You will experience hurt.
It’s part of life.
Lessons to learn,
About love.
There are a lot of people
That get stuck
In misery for years.  
Live lightly,
Live completely in the present
Don’t look back
And when you forget
Take that hot ball of pain
And grieve
I hope it gets smaller
Every time you acknowledge it.
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