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Dorothy A Nov 2010
Give me all riches
Deny to me wondrous love
I am the most poor
Dorothy A Nov 2010
All earth creations
Nature and us quite the same
God does not make junk
Dorothy A Jan 2014
It cannot put pen to paper
But all a flower has to do
Is open up its delicate petals
Unfolding like a noble lady's fan
Broadening to blossom into a lovely jewel
Poetry without any word

A spider weaves its web
Like an author spins tales
It's intentions upon its survival, but
Its intricate home of threads and strings
Like a gossamer harp
Is enchanting to perceive
A make and design of fragile strength

The oceans and seas
Mighty and commanding
They roar and display their majesty
With crashing waves and splashy bravado
They spare few prisoners
And graveyards of sunken ships
Whisper of stories untold

Birds chirp and warble
With songs that humans long to know
For they travel through the air
In simplistic freedom
Their chorus of communication
Is a poetic symphony just as entertaining
As any band of musicians or artists

The winds blow and whistle
Though they have no mouths
If you listen close enough
You can hear their secrets
Their breath of life in the
Ever flowing
Breezes that enfold us

You'd swear the mountains
Were painted that way
Brawny and broad, peaked high above
Against the grand canvas we call the sky
Yes, paintings are poems, too
For a picture speaks a thousand words
But no mere man can make a mountain

You see
We are merely students
Taught by God's natural, creative genius
We are merely imitators
Of what nature displays
We are not originals
For we are not the first poets
Nor the first storytellers
Dorothy A Sep 2010
I am broken
Into bits, it might as well be
My bones--oh, they throb...
And my soul--oh, it moans...

So one might say
"Throw her away"
But God, not you

My heart is squeezed out
My spirit, lowly
Tossed to the wind to and fro,
And so I am forced to my knees

So one might believe,
"She'll never achieve",
But God, not you

Hatred floods my eyes,
Unforgiveness stirs in my soul
Bitter salt, hostile resentment adds
To all my shortcomings

And since because
I ask, "What is love?"
I don't believe it's for me

But it's then that God calls
Like lightning over the plains
He gloriously lights up the way,
A field of faith to the path I trod

And since I feel doubt
I lift my voice with a shout,
"God, why me?"

Because they say,
"Throw her away",
Because they believe,
"She'll never achieve",
I have called you by name

And without love,
There'd be no God above...
So come unto Me
1990s
Dorothy A Oct 2013
As Lewis walked up to the door, it strangely felt like he had been here before. But he hadn't. She had moved here three years ago, and he never saw the place. It smelled like Nina's home alright, though. The faint whiff of hydrangeas, of roses, and of other flowers caught he keen nose, and he breathed in deeply and smiled reassuringly to himself. The he became serious, as if he had no right to smile.

Was this the right thing to do? He hoped so. Time would tell. It felt as if it was almost yesterday, instead of six years ago, as he knocked on her door.

After a few knocks, a minute or two, Nina opened the door to her house. Someone had to be home, for there was a car in the driveway. As she looked upon him, Lewis expected her to slam the door shut in his face, but she also acted as if she had just seen him yesterday. And it seemed like no big deal to her.

Without much emotion on her face, she left the screen door shut, but she kept the inner door open. Walking away, it was like she expected him to follower her non-verbal lead. He did, hesitantly.

In the kitchen, Nina poured him a cup of coffee. "You hungry?" she asked him. "I am about to put some cinnamon roles into the oven. I'm going to open up a can from the fridge."


"Oh?" Lewis responded, trying to be nonchalant, trying to hid the nervousness in his voice. "Not from scratch?" His heart was practically beating out of his chest.

Nina's back was towards him. She was finishing some dishes in the sink. "Yeah, I know I was always Betty Crocker. But I'be learned to make short cuts, and it tastes just fine. Makes life easier to not do everything like Grandma did it."  

After she separated the rolls apart, and stuck them into the oven, she just kept going about her business. She started to open some mail and sorted the items into piles of importance and priority, and into a pile that could wait.

Lewis was shocked. He couldn't believe her composure. After a while, she turned around, leaned against the counter top, and she acted like she didn't have a care in the world. She didn't look one bit stressed, angry, sad, shocked, disgusted--or anything.

Finally, Lewis said, "Nina, I don't get it." He felt itchy, and tense, as if he could scratch his skin off, as if he was waiting for a bomb to drop. "Why aren't you telling me to get the hell out of her...to go ***** off...or call me every name in the book."

Nina just looked him up and down. He began to chuckle, nervously. "Come on, Nina! I am surprised you just don't grab that pan of hot rolls in the oven, and whack me in the head with them!"

In response, Nina still said nothing, acting as if nothing ever happened.

Becoming quite unsettled with her unexpected composure, he went on. "I mean...come on..scream at me. Cuss me out! Slap me! Punch me! Something, for God's sake!"

Nina raised an eyebrow, and tried to resist smiling. She was waiting patiently for him to explain himself, not to go on like this. "Is that what you want, Lewis? Is that why you came her? To beat you into oblivion with a pan of hot cinnamon rolls?" She didn't try to make him look foolish--he was doing a good job of that on his own.

Lewis turned red in embarrassment, and started to smirk. "Well...yeah...would make more sense to me."

The timer went off and the rolls were done. Putting her oven mitts on, Nina pulled them out of the oven and let them cool on top of the counter. The silence was eerie, awkward.

She poured him another cup of coffee, and finally addressed the elephant in the room. As he still looked up at her, dumbfounded by her, she said, "Lewis...if you have the ***** to come here...than I can certainly let you in and hear you out."

With that said, she filled a plate full of rolls, places them in the center of the table, pulled out a chair and sat down across from him at the table. "I'm listening", she said, her expressions still low-key. Yet Lewis thought that her eyes and mouth seemed ready to mock him, positioned to put him in his place. His guilt wouldn't allow him to think, otherwise.

Why would she serve him food and coffee? Why not just get it all into the open and demand that he spill his guts?

Lewis didn't want to beat around the bush any longer, but spoke plainly in his confession. "Nina, what can I say? I'm an ***." She didn't nod her head in agreement, nor say that he sure was an ***, yet a "look of  suspicion was growing upon her face.

"OK, OK", he went on. "I should never have left you--of all days! What a frickin' wimp! I should have manned-up and told you I wasn't ready to get married. Instead, I stood you up at the church...of all places...in front of your family...your friends. A complete no-show--I made a mockery of that day! It was supposed to be one of the best...and I made it the worst! Some in my family haven't really gotten past it or have forgiven me. Not fully. A few barely talk to me. My best friend, Steve, thinks I'm a *****--a dumb fool!"

Nina sighed with relief. This was what she wanted to hear. The tears started flowing.

Lewis told her, "So I just don't get it. I don't get why you are not furious with me! It just blows my mind!"

Lewis grabbed for another cinnamon role, and Nina handed him a napkin. She wasn't crying anymore, and he was glad. Why was she being so nice though? So hospitable? Did she have something up her sleeve? Did she mean to get back at him? Maybe poison in one of his roles? Lewis had to laugh at himself. Actually, that might alleviate some of his guilt right now.  

Picking at her role, Nina explained, first more sharply. Then she was soft in speech. "It's not all about you, ya know! Look, Lewis, don't think that for a moment that just because it is more OK now that it was OK back then! Well...I guess you already realize this. You see, I'm different now...changed...grown a lot since. I did a lot of soul searching, lots of growing."

"I can see that. It's wonderful."

"And I wondered what I did wrong...at first. Then I hated you, blamed you. I wished that I never said I would marry you. I did plenty of screaming at you--plenty. I bring things in a rage--mirrors, a clock, a dish or two--bruised my fists up pounding things."

She paused and continued, all the time looking at the intricate, lace doily on the center of the table, under a vase of fresh daisies. Finally, Lewis saw the gamut of emotions. In one moment, her face would pinch in frustration and anger. It would then evolve into a soft sadness, and other emotions within.

"Wasn't so composed about you back then, Lewis. Let's see...I swore at you. I wished you were dead. I ripped up every picture of you...put some in the shredder, wishing they were you, instead..prayed that you would die. Bitterness isn't event he word for it. I thought you were the worst thing that happened to me, that you ruined my life forever. I cursed you up and down, Lewis. I'm sure I even invented some new curse words."

That was enough said. She looked up at him and slightly smiled. Lewis smiled back, for at least she felt real to him now, quite natural. She admitted, But I think I cried far more than I hated you. I still loved you."

Lewis wanted to sit right next to her and hold her. "Oh, baby...I'm so sorry..."

Nina quickly interjected. "Honey, you weren't ready for marriage. We were both young, only in our mid twenties...we thought we had it so together. It took me a while, but I finally realized that you needed to find out who you really were, came to that conclusion for a while now. And, boy, did I need to get to know myself more, too!"

"No!", he insisted, emphatically. "Don't make excuses for me! I did not do right by you!"

Nina reached across the table and put her hand upon his. "It seemed like hell at the time, but I needed to learn about me, too! Crazy as it sounds....if it did not happen...I never would have..."

She stopped short. Lewis had tears in his eyes, and one began to roll down his cheek. "Met Gary", he said, finishing her sentence for her.

Surprise flashed across her face. "You did your homework!" Nina stated. She was quite impressed and smiled.

"I wanted to know what happened to you", Lewis responded. "You probably wonder why I didn't walk away for good. I intended to....but you deserve some answers, and I'm here to give them to you. Sure, I could have walked away, and stayed away. I could have saved myself the embarrassment of facing you, again. I could have pretended to have some dignity left."

"But you do have some dignity left", she insisted, sweetly. "It takes a lot of courage to do this. I'm glad you did."

"Are you happy now? I mean...I hope you are."

"Very."

Lewis didn't even have to ask. He could already tell. They sat in silence for a moment. Nina finally said, excitedly, "Gary's a great guy! We both love art. We both love nature, the outdoors, to travel.  He loves other cultures, and learning other things--like languages." Her face was beaming with pride. "Gary is trying to learn Portuguese and brush up on his Spanish. This year ,we are planning a trip to Portugal and Spain!"

Nina always did keep a nice home, and she decorated it with art that was acquired from different places. Where Lewis didn't have a sense of what looked good, she had a good sense of style. When they were both together, the talked of going to different places that they never traveled to--Africa, Asia, Australia--backpacking across Europe. They were big dreams.

Nina did not want Lewis to feel punished, but his agonizing expression of remorse would have been punishment enough. It already was for him, and it showed his sincerity.

"You know how I met Gary?"

Lewis shook his head. "A support group for divorced people! she admitted, gleefully, as if that was the most amazing thing to say.

Lewis looked embarrassed. Perhaps, he misunderstood her.  "What? For divorced people? You were never married before Gary, were you?"

Perhaps, there was something she wasn't telling him. Nina burst out laughing, seeming so carefree as she threw her head back and clapped her hands. Her laughter was beautifully contagious, and Lewis loved to hear it. "No, of course not!" she said. I have no secret past before I met you...or even now. It's just that a divorce support group was the closest support I could get. After all, there are no support groups for jilted brides and grooms!" She laughed even more.

They were talking so easily now, getting along so well. But why? It still seemed so surreal. Lewis laughed along with  her, as if this was just an encounter  to revisit the good, old times. When hearing of Gary, Lewis felt the pain of his loss, as well as some jealousy rise up. As if he had the right!  

He truly was an ***! He never deserved her!

Nina soon became serious, again. "So did you just come here to say you were sorry?" She was thinking he wanted something else from her, something else to say.

Lewis was once poised to take off in a real hurry. Now, he felt more at home. "Yeah...I came to say I was sorry to you...hoping to stop feeling sorry for myself... I guess. I'm wishing I could just turn back the clock. I swear I'd do it all again, differently."

"But the past cannot be change, and we both know it", Nina stated, resolutely.

He nodded in agreement. She didn't burst his bubble, for to think otherwise was a childish, fantasy.

"I don't know what else to say, Lewis". Nina's eyes reflected sorrow, not pity. "Life does really go on...if we let it. We have to let it, though." She now turned the conversation onto him. " So how about you? I hope you have some good news to tell me, something in your life."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I've had a few, short relationships", he admitted. Where there any displeasing looks on her face? Lewis didn't notice anything, now. "Not all that bad, I should say. But I just don't want to settle down until I finish my Masters in business. I'm nearly done."

"Good for you! That is great news!" Nina truly was glad for him, and it just showed him what a great woman she was. But then Lewis already knew this.

"Are you still teaching?" he asked, hoping she was, for she strove for the job, and loved it so much.

"Yes, I teach kindergarten, and Gary teaches science at Darland College."

"Well, what do you know? Both teachers. That sounds like a perfect match for you. And what about kids? None yet?"

"In time...sure. We just aren't ready right now."

She offered him more coffee, but Lewis declined. He was thinking he should go soon.  He said. "You know we used to talk about having a boy and a girl--and in that order, too!"

Nina rolled her eyes. "Yeah, boy oh boy. Like we had complete control over it".

They both laughed. It was fine to reminisce, and they did for a while, Lewis realizing that this would be the last time. He lived three hours away. And why should he come back? He did what he set out to do.

Nina would tell Gary about the visit after he came home from work. As husband and wife, there were not secrets between them. Nina was sure he would be surprised,f or his ex-wife never came to apologize for the pain she caused him.

"Gary's wife had an affair on him, and then left to marry that man", Nina revealed. "Thank God there were no children from that marriage."

"Wow, that is ******! Thank God I never did that to you!. I would have never cheated with another woman...or I might never have tried to face you. It would be easier to slink back into the ditch and stay there! This is hard enough as it is!"

"Maybe so, Lewis. Maybe so." Nina quickly added, "You aren't a bad man. I know this and I wholeheartedly mean this, so don't keep beating up on yourself. I've forgiven you for everything. I forgave you then, and I forgive you now. "

"Nina, that means everything to me!" He started to choke up, and more tears came.

Listen, Lewis. You need to forgive you, too."

He lowered his gaze, as Nina held his hand and gave it a squeeze. Never was Lewis so contrite before. Like many men, he never was overly emotional, and so this different side of him was a refreshing experience.

"Yeah,  it's time to move on", he stated, using a napkin as a tissue.

"Yes, it is. And I loved what you did. It was helpful for us both. It's the closure we need."

"Yep", he said, wiping away more tears.

"You are a guy with guts, Lewis. you do have courage, and more integrity than you think, and I hope you see it."

Nina offered him more coffee, and he accepted. Why couldn't they chat a little while longer? It was no harm, and it made the visit even more meaningful. Sitting and shooting the breeze more was not a bad thing.

The kitchen still held the fragrant smell of cinnamon, as they polished off more rolls and spoke more of good times.
Dorothy A Mar 2017
Lily drove past tiny towns and big metropolises.  She packed up what she could in her small car and left the rest behind, anything to get away from the life that she helplessly felt was eroding away into disaster.

Her dad was right. "Never fall for a guy who is more in love with himself than he is with you," was his advice to her as she was about to embark to Los Angles. A practical man from Iowa, who was most comfortable on the cornfields, Lily's dad was always her solid rock.  She never felt she should compare her men in her life to her dad, but they fell far short in the comparison that she never tried to use as her measuring stick. Nothing phony or pretentious about him in his daughter's eyes, Mack was the real deal of what a man should be.

Now her husband, Trey, was just the opposite. He was the lead singer of a local band, and his magnetic attraction towards women was certainly not uncommon among musicians. They fell for him like he was the Pied Piper—for he was viewed as a lady killer—and he willingly obliged more than once to any adoring female fan. Lily couldn't put up with it anymore, and so she was heading home. Two years since she saw her dad, he was surely there to welcome her back with open arms.  He told her she always had a place in his home. Her old yellow lab, Buster, was waiting for her, too.    

Lily drove past mountains and valleys, twists and turns, drove by wheat fields and wildflowers. They were the breadcrumbs that paved a way to the cornfields and sleepy, little towns that were all so familiar to her. Once she got there, she'd give her dear dad a huge bear hug, receive dozens of sloppy kisses from her dog, greet an old friend or two, and take a nice good bubble bath—anything to clear her mind and soothe her soul.

So it was Iowa, once again, that she would make as her home. From there, who knew? All she knew is that she was well on her way.
Dorothy A Jul 2010
There once was a girl called Goldilocks
Who lived in a forest filled with phlox
She did not to have a soul to play with
And in the forest she would often drift

She once became lost, the lonely, little girl
The one with the head full of golden curls
Panicked and scared, she came upon a house
But it appeared that everyone there was out

She helped herself to the food, cold and hot
She tried the chairs until one hit the spot
Too tired to try to make her way back
She hit the sheets to take a nap

Very picky was this lost, lonely tot
Some porridge was too cold, some too hot
Beds too soft or too hard to sleep tight
Only one she found that felt just right

Mama, Papa, and Baby Bear were soon back on arrival
After a long day of fishing for their survival
What? Who had their nose in each of their bowls?
Gone was one porridge that to the brim was full

And who had sat in and broke one of the chairs?
It looked like a human by some strands of golden hair!
Hunters? Oh, no! Could they be on the prowl?
The bears sniffed around and started to growl

Baby Bear was the first to see
The little girl catching some Z's
"Oh, cool!" exclaimed little Baby Bear
"Can we keep her? Can she stay here?"

They all came upon Goldilocks all snug in bed
Papa Bear was now furious and began to see red
"And you call us animals!" he yelled loudly at her
"Who gives you the right?! Where are your manners?!"

Goldilocks woke up with an ear piercing shriek
Facing three hairy bears, she could not speak
Out the house she ran, far enough to see her home near
And that was the last that Goldilocks saw of those bears!

"She was just a scared, little girl", Mama Bear said to her spouse
"We could have stopped her and let her stay in our house!"
Papa Bear, disagreeing with her foolish trust,  swore
"**** it! I told you the last one out locks the door!!!"

"You begin feeding them...they are so clever
You'll never get rid of them. They stick around forever!"
Mama Bear refused to fight, for Papa Bear refused to bend
And that is all there is to the story. THE END!
Dorothy A Aug 2012
Sired by the Pen
When its Ink flowed out
The Paper contained it well
Bringing the Words to life
And it grew tall and strong

For it was a good conception
Dorothy A Nov 2010
The lone eagle makes its
solo journey over the vast horizon

I can see my flag in
the setting sun
as the lemon halo of fire
becomes a vivid pomegranate red,
the turquoise sky darkening
into a sea of navy blue
and wispy, white clouds  
are hovering over us like
spirits in the universe

Lady Liberty,
overlooking the evening
of the New York Harbor,
displays her lit up torch like a
cosmic nightlight
She forever sheds light over
weary Americans
to remind us to
still dream the American dream
but that vision often seems
so out of our common reach

Uncle Sam has put on his nightcap,
a tuckered, old man is he
The crickets are chirping,
singing to me their strange lullabye
as I think I'll call it a night

*Goodnight, America, Goodnight
Dorothy A Jun 2012
Winter makes it sleep
Summer sun, power to parch
Spring, victorious
Dorothy A Oct 2013
Wise children, beware!
Mutilated pumpkins grin
Wandering, masked souls
Dorothy A Jun 2010
The heart keeps us alive
It pumps
Excited,
it jumps

The mind is what keeps us wise
alerted by the heart
it awakens
and the churning starts...

Both are organs
That make a rhythm
Who can live without them?
Dorothy A Oct 2010
It will not a grave matter be
when they'll put me in the ground
For once I've breathed my last
I know I am heaven bound

For a heaping taste of hell
I have swallowed up like death
But God saved me, a sinner,
and now my soul's at rest
Dorothy A Mar 2017
Aubrey was confronted by her mom in the kitchen as she was making her lunch for school the next day. "Two sandwiches?" her mom questioned. "What's up with that, Aubrey? Since when do you eat more than one sandwich?" Actually Aubrey ate well. It was always a healthy lunch for her, perhaps a sandwich with some lettuce and tomato on it, or something cooked and leftover. She rarely indulged in sweet snacks, like her brother and sister did, never going without a couple pieces of fruit in her bag.  

Audrey was a freshman in high school, and she was a forthright girl. There was no need to hide anything, so  she replied nonchalantly, "It's not for me. It is for Wade Hodak. He doesn't have a sandwich in his lunch".

With her hands on her hips, Audrey's mom smelled something fishy. Was Wade taking advantage of her? She replied, "And why not? Since when is it up to you to look after him?"

"Mom!" Aubrey protested. "He is lucky his mom even gets any child support from his dad! Her paycheck doesn't come til the end of the week. Sometimes, he eats okay, but sometimes they just don't have the money! You know how it is with bills and stuff! It is usually just a bag of chips and whatever else he can find"

Aubrey's mom only vaguely knew of Wade Hodak. What little she knew of his mother, his mom seemed on the up-and-up. She remembered that the woman had to pull her daughter out of  dance class because she couldn't afford it, the same class her younger daughter was in.

Aubrey's mom smiled and gave her a kiss and a hug, "Peanut butter and jelly?" Well, don't lay it on too thin.", she advised.  Aubrey smiled big, a sweet smile with those braces on her teeth, and she was becoming a beautiful, young woman, both inside and out.

"That's what I was hoping you would say", Aubrey said and added, gratefully. "Thanks mom".  Peanut butter and jelly it was.
Dorothy A Nov 2009
She has fire in her veins,
fire in her hair.
She might light your world afire today.
So beware!

Her autumn reflection,
burning bright,
has much detection
throughout her night.

She has a hurting spirit,
but a proud name.
The fire she did inherit
is in her eyes the flame.

A mist of rain does tend to descend,
threatening her torch with dread,
but in spite of its might and unceasing end,
the fire is never dead.
My autobiography in 77 words :D
Dorothy A Nov 2009
Hey, flower!
How come you have to come along
and disturb my state of mind?
Confusion, unrest, and the like.
What a manipulator you are!
Winking at me with soft petals
and subtle hints of sunshine.

Brilliant and bold
in your gentle composure...
Pastel petals as delicate as butterfly wings
Yet strong enough to make a statement
like a captain in command

I just don't think you are fair
For you just gave me a jolt
And I was having a
perfectly miserable day
until you came along.
Dorothy A Feb 2017
Hold onto that Faith
When others mock and see faith in God as foolish
When you're told your final destination is the cold, dark grave
When you are branded as illogical, uneducated and ignorant
When Doubt is knocking at your front door and demands a foothold

Hold onto that Hope
When you sense you are in a downward spiral
When you are tired of the long uphill
When tears threaten to drown you
When you just don't see the sense of life

Hold onto that Love*
When you encounter those who have none for you
When you have the desire to be unloving
When you know this world is nothing without it
When you know it what makes life bearable and true
Dorothy A Jul 2010
Hope is not a material object,
not like a shoe
that shines with sophisitcation,
that soon is old and worn,
its leather ragged
and its sole full of holes

Hope, unlike that shoe
cannot be discarded,
thrown away in the trash

Therefore, it is with you always
to tuck away in your heart
for safekeeping,
and to bring out for use
whenever life seems
to have given up on you
on your dreams,
on your desires,
on your vision
for a better tomorrow
Dorothy A Oct 2013
I'm hopelessly lost without you, Lord
For I know that my life has been an utter mess
And, with You, it can always have new beginnings
New life breathed into the lifelessness that I've felt
Dorothy A Jun 2010
A tear shed,
Mingled with blood
How could I not
Give Him my love?
Alive to this world,
Yet He was dead to sin
How could I not be
Born again?
Died and risen,
But He sees us
How could I not
Know Jesus?
Dorothy A Jul 2010
I'm not Little Miss Muffet
From a spider I won't run away
I'll just squish you in a tissue
Or grab a can of bug spray

If that won't be sufficient
If that would not do
I'd just take off my footwear
And smash you with my shoe!

Spider, Spider there I see you
crawling upon my bedroom wall
You give me nothing but the creeps
with every single inch you crawl

You may weave interesting webs
But don't think I'm making nice
If I were not human (but a fly)
I'd be an entangled, delicious bite!

I hate your figure-eight, rounded body
I hate your dangly legs, eight
Is there anything about you I like?
No, I think everything about you I hate!
Dorothy A Jul 2010
Humpty Dumpty
was never steady
on his legs
Almost round as a ball
he was a fat, little egg

One day he was struck by the beauty
of a seductive fork
So silvery, shiny, and slim
she desired to whisk him into shape
to make him completely fit and trim

But Humpty Dumpty, in love,
was falling way too hard
I mean he literally fell
in his crazy crush
cracking his delicate shell!

His mother, the hen
was beside herself
"Come to your senses", she begged
"Stay away from that wicked fork
before you become scrambled eggs!"

Humpty Dumpty was fading fast,
fearful that he was mortally wounded
Oozing some white and yolk and
suddenly he was feeling
the pain of being broken!

But the doctor refused
to hand him over to the chef
Patched him up though it was hard.
"Another fall like that", he warned
"And you will end up in shards!"

So Humpty Dumpty was
never ever the same
Everyone was taken aback
They all knew to keep their distance
for Humpty Dumpty was cracked!
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Who can calm the beast?
Cravings of the hungry soul
Born into famine
Dorothy A Jan 2012
I am a poem that does not wish to be mediocre
I want to penetrate to your core
Past your presumptions
And violate your routine thoughts

Swift as a sword
I want the stroke of my pen to
Make you bleed
Any tears of indifference

But I fear I fall short
For Shakespeare sonnet
I am not
And I yearn for a cutting edge
Dorothy A Mar 2012
He may be one of the slowest creatures on earth
And the hare may kick sand in his face

But when life gets too heavy handed
He folds himself up and shields himself from the world

It seems that God made this creature
With a heavy load to bear

But humans seem designed
With the weight of the world upon our shoulders

The heaviest load of all
Dorothy A Oct 2010
If I could not write
My days would turn to night

If there was no such thing as art
I would die from a broken heart

If I could not dream
Deafening throughout the skies would be my screams

If I could not hope
I would never have learned to cope

If I did not feel
Life would be unreal

If love did not exist
Death would be my wish

So I continue
To write
To create art
To dream
To hope
To feel
And to love
Dorothy A Nov 2009
If I told you how dead
I often feel inside
would you want to run
the other way?

If I told you how scared
I am over the same old things
would you tell me
not to be such a baby?

If I told you that my words
could inspire you
to write words of your own
would you laugh?

If I told you all these things
and many more
in the depths of my soul
would you call me friend?

Would you?
Dorothy A Apr 2017
If I were a poem
Would I rhyme?
If I were a poem
Would I be free verse?
Would I be classical or modern?
Ordinary or a cut above?
Minimal or long winded?
Humorous or deep?
Make an impact or keep it simple?

I have written all such things
So I'm not sure
Dorothy A Dec 2010
If poems can heal
Let mine reach the skies
As a prayer on the wings of a dove

I wish my words to be honest
And not just nice sounding or trite
I want them to have medicinal merit

Not just do I wish
That they would help me to feel better
But that they help another who is hurting
Dorothy A Sep 2013
If you lend me your ear
I'll write you a poem

.......Or a short story

Whatever comes as inspiration

If you'll  focus your eyes upon my page
You might get a whimsy gleam in them, or wipe away a tear or two

All depending upon the mood and the tone of matter

If you extend to me an open mind
Perhaps, I will fill it, chock full, with something worth your time

And you will read on like a voracious consumer of vocabulary

If you'll  open up your heart
Maybe, I might stir it up with a solid, hearty recipe of words, sentences and imagery

That will satisfy the yearning soul

So give whatever you can give me,
And look forward to all of that

Sometime, more in the future
Dorothy A Aug 2010
I know
before I lay me down to sleep
that I pray to my Lord
with clouds of doubts
Dark within my room at night
I lie ready
to close my eyes to
everything above
and about me

But as I stare up
in my bed
I know there is a God
beyond that ceiling barrier
I know there is a God
transcending these plaster walls
I know.....
I know
March 1997
Dorothy A Sep 2011
I know why Vincent Van Gogh Cut off his own ear

We are a mad bunch, you see
Poets and painters and playwrights
On the prowl for something to
jump start our perpetual yearnings,
our keen senses and cravings,
on the quest for so much more
than the status quo,
of merely checking off just another day
from our calendars

We are those kinds of people
Who wish to reinvent the world
Often cursing at our failings and insecurites
While obsessively working to shape and sculpt
our view of this planet
To fit our own brand of imagination
To satisfy our starving hopes
and desperate dreams
To foster vivid visions
from the views that are vague  
And to wipe away
The nightmares of old
that cry out in us

We believe in make-believe
We who are misfits to "normalcy"
We rarely seem to fit into
The "real world"
Yet we know that this world is
Pure insanity
Stark madness
Sheer perplexion
Yet we are the ones
suffering for the sake
of our art
Often misunderstood
Many times branded as "weirdos"

I can understand the pain
Of not getting my art right
Of not seeing its worth
Because someone sniffed at it
Or scoffed at it
Or blindly passed it by
Many times, we want to break through
And join the world of our works of art
But we can't
We're stuck in the middle of its beauty
And nothingness

Yes
I know why Vincent Van Gogh cut off his own ear
Dorothy A Dec 2014
Evelyn wore a porcelain mask with a perpetual, pretty, painted smile until one day the cover-up cracked. She didn’t realize how badly she wanted to cry, and the tears just wouldn’t stop.  After the deluge came to an end, she got on her cell phone and gave Cody a call. She was at home, lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling with thoughts of Cody, galore. So why not call him? She had been good about not giving into her urge of making contact. She needed to hold off and reassess all her thoughts and desires--not to appear impulsive or desperate. Her mother told her she was too young to worry about serious commitments, but by twenty-one her mother was already married. Evelyn was almost twenty-two.  

“Things haven’t been the same since we were together”, she admitted to Cody, two years her senior. The moment of silence seemed like a lot longer.

Cody was also in his room, strumming on his guitar when she called. He responded, “Yeah, well…I don’t get it. It was you that left me, not the other way around”.

That was typical Cody, she had thought. “It feels like you left much earlier than that—you and your walls that shut me out”.

They were friends since high school. They seemed to be really good at being friends, but really bad at a relationship. They could goof around and have fun, go to concerts and sporting events, hang out with other friends or try new restaurant as they were both foodies. Or they’d catch all the action movies, and Cody would tolerate the chick flicks for her sake—once in a while. But as lovers, he was not what she wanted him to be, he being distant. She was often pushing him away by trying to change him into what she wanted or needed.

“I still love you”, Cody admitted. “That never stopped”.

Evelyn dropped the phone in a funny, sarcastic way, and then she picked it up, again. “Holy cow! Who the hell is this guy, and what happened to my good guy BFF, Cody! Tell me, what did you do to him?” she shouted out playfully. “Really! I almost never heard you say that! And certainly not unless I said it first!”

“Yeah, yeah”, he replied, downplaying things. “Now don’t make me into some **** who has no feelings or doesn’t know how to act. Maybe I wasn’t always the with-it guy, but I tried. I really did try to…”.

Evelyn smiled softly, a genuine smile, and quickly interjected. “I wish I could be there to give you a real one, but I’ll just blow you a kiss over the phone”. She made a kissing sound, touched her lips with her finger, and blew out of her mouth as to send him a kiss”.

Cody smacked his cheek, slightly, and joked, “Got it! Did you hear that? It landed right smack on me!”

They laughed and talked awhile. They just had to be friends, again. Nothing should stand in their way, for there was too much enjoyment of each other’s company, and if that meant the boyfriend/girlfriend thing was off the table, so be it. Maybe it could work, again. It might be worth a try, in time, but the platonic was doable. They just knew they wanted each other back, to be in each other’s life once more.  

.
Dorothy A Sep 2011
The clouds are set
In a cloud kingdom tapestry
A glorious backdrop upon
the pink orangish sky

The sun has begun setting
After the rain clouds
began departing
to leave us with
a pink orangish sky

My dreams are set upon
The skies above me
Wrapped up in the beauty of
a pink orangish sky

It appears to me as a curtain
and my eyes are certain
that the night skies are bowing
to the pink orangish sky

I hold my hopes
in the heavenly spaces
As I keep pushing forward  
below the pink orangish sky

It really delights me
It really excites me
to write an ode
to a pink orangish sky

Can you hear my song
In this humble piece of poetry?
It all came from my view
of a pink orangish sky
Dorothy A Sep 2018
Are you a friend?
Or are you a foe?
I think I like you
Well...I don't know
Just a tongue-and-cheek thought running through my mind
Dorothy A Jul 2010
In my head
with an on-and-off light bulb
are a plethora of stories
ready to have me
breathe life into them

In my gut
is fear so darkly deep
that it talks my head
out of taking many risks
but to remain in the silent abyss

In my soul
untouched by human hands
lies my God-designed core
with a light so divinely ignited
that it shines on no matter what
Dorothy A Sep 2012
Stop!

Can't get it togther
My frenetic thoughts
But my Molasses-in-January responses
My dreadful fear and apprehension
My lack of motivation
And my struggle to use time wisely

You are my eye in the hurricane
My Help in the midst of the storm
You are my Refuge
Even though quite often
I practically give You
The *******

Oh, thank You for Your longsuffering
For Your mercy
For Your faithfulness
For Your belief in me to rise above
For my heart to keep beating
For my lungs to take in more air

You are my Hope
You are my Shield
You are my Light
You are my Song
You are my Source
You are Everything to me

My God
But not just mine
There is plenty of You
To go around
To anyone who asks
And that is why You are
Above all that ever existed
Or was made by human hands
Period
Dorothy A Nov 2010
Tumbleweeds tumble
Once alive, they've turned to ghosts
Into the Old West
Dorothy A Nov 2012
In my forty + years of living, I quite realize that....

Life can be hard and brutal, but life can be equally beautiful and amazing.

I've learned that loving others and liking others are two separate things. Sometimes, I did not like some people in my life...but I love(d) them very much.

I've learned that no matter what my circumstances are, to always have hope. I love the concept of hope. I fight for it, if I have to. And if only I find a flicker of hope, I'll ****** onto it for it to keep me going.

I've learned that forgiveness is vital, is important to living, but that doesn't mean I have to be friends with the one I forgive. Forgiveness is just as much for me as to the person I extend it to.

We don't always get what we want....sometimes, we have to wait and wait, and learn the hard way.....and that can often produce the most growth................the pain, the agony, the unsettling feelings.

I mean we surely can grow during the hardest times, the roughest times. I most certainly have, and have matured much more from when times were uncertain. None of us are entitled.

I've learned sometimes...you just got to do it! Like when I traveled to Britain...I'd rather say I accomplished a dream than "almost".
Dorothy A Nov 2009
I remember fear,
when fear lived inside
I did not invite it in
It had its own key

I remember fantasy
Fantasy and I got along
Together we overcame,
and fear took off running

I remember stubbornness,
determined to make my own way,
not to live in a little shoe box,
determined to fly away

I remember that little girl
That little girl knew me
I am not anyone I can recall
I'm just me
Dorothy A Sep 2010
Sleep seems to be
a daily taste of death
It is like death's cousin,
so I have heard
Our eyes closed
as we often lay flat on our back
in on our beds
like we are layed out
for our own wake
Perhaps, we should see it this way
so we are to know that
it is not our enemy
but our constant companion

For you see,
in our slumber
our spirit is alive
We dream of things
that we often
could never do in life,
to fly like birds,
to have superhuman powers,
to travel to lands, unseen

I often wondered what
death felt like
My body in a coffin
Once open for those to shed
a sea of tears
before it becomes
shut up in darkness forever
The image seems grim
and gruesome
until my imagination
tries to conjure up
a Pollyanna scene

Almost like a cocoon
Our old shell of skin and bone
will soon be no more as
our spirits become free,  
transformed like a butterfly,
taking off to a higher realm
We will not be what we were before
but like the butterfly,
we have not vanished, either
We will just journey on
becoming more exquisite
as we are now free from gravity
A lovely concept my mind needs to behold

But who am I kidding
I fear and dread that ultimate separation
Fear that the promise of heaven
would be a cruel hoax
Finding demons waiting to torment me
Fearing that God would not accept me
A nightmare instead of a dream

I guess I have enough reason
to have my doubts
I often felt like I had died
Died a thousand deaths
Or wished I had died
Death often felt like a welcome release
And life felt unreal
Too painful to live
Numbness felt better
I must confess

But even though death
has invaded this earth
and we are in constant reminder
that it will be our final fate
I refuse to believe
that death will triumph over life
Like a baby leaves the womb
It is born into a new realm
A new unknown
but welcomed into the comforting arms
of another who embraces and loves it

So what does death feel like?
Do we feel that fear
as we are fading
from this earth?
Is it like sleep,
a lovely dream?
Dorothy A Oct 2022
It is a tool for battle
A symbol of saving grace
Jesus was crucified on it
And I imagine the cross,
Its portion inside the ground
As like the tip of a sword
Its sharp and spiked end
Plunged into the dirt,
Its horizontal part
As the quillon, the crossguard
Of its majestic knife

Who was on that cross
Was a Man that was pierced
His hands and feet
His head with thorns
And, lastly, right into his side
But it is he, in return,
That can pierce
And penetrate the hardest
Of men and women
With his love
Dorothy A Jan 2015
It isn't a crime to cry
So let those tears flow
If you have to go into secluded place
May the cleansing begin

Like rain upon a dusty window
Wash away the hurt
Be not ashamed
Don't feel you are being weak

You were made to laugh and to cry
And you came into this earth, an infant,
Crying before you laughed
It is no sin

Sadness?
Anger?
Loss?
Fear?

In a world that frowns
Upon non-smiling faces
Remember your humanity
And your right to feel pain
Dorothy A Mar 2022
Dear Folks,

It's been a while since I last posted a piece of writing on here.

Though a woman, and a proud one, I feel like the tin man, all frozen up. The tin man got stopped in his tracks in the rain, rusted. What's my excuse?  

Perhaps, I thought I've said it all. Perhaps, my tears have all dried up. Perhaps, I got complacent or apathetic.

Perhaps, I was just plain scared.

Oil can, please.
Dorothy A Nov 2009
I lit
the wick,
a slow start,
barely a fire...
almost smoldering...
but
just the same,
there's a flame
rising above
a flicker.
And I can see
no doubt
it's gonna shine.
Dorothy A Mar 2015
My cousin told me that I am a good storyteller, but I should write something about me, about real people and a time that I was scared "shitless".  Well, I can only think of one time of a real life shocker that shook up my young world. It's nothing suspenseful. It probably wouldn't win any contests, but it isn't contrived. It's a snippet of the first time that I encountered the raw reality of death.  

What did I know about death at eight years old? Our parakeet, Perky, died. My grandparents dog, Bruno, had to be put to sleep. As a girl, I vaguely recall seeing a dead man in a coffin, and that was at the funeral of my mom's aunt's husband.  This was only an introduction of the temporary world we live in.  

Well, then there was an older couple two doors down from us. They had two grandchildren that used to come and visit them, a sister and brother. When in the neighborhood, they would play with my older brothers.  I cannot even recall their names. I cannot remember what they looked like or what they said.

What  I do remember is the news being on in the living room, and I was eating dinner in the kitchen with my mom and brothers. Suddenly, the faces of that brother and sister were on TV. It was reported that their mentally troubled mother had killed them. I think it was because she was denied custody of them in an ugly divorce.  Doing a little bit of digging in the Michigan death index online, I rediscovered who they were. They were Susan and Richard. They were ten and nine-years-old at the time.  

I surely don't remember plenty of details, as this was in June of 1973. Over forty years ago, it's a much faded memory now.  I only know I did not go to the funeral home. If I did, I am sure I'd be horrified to look upon those children who were robbed of their lives.  Death was no longer just for pets or old people.  It wasn't fair and it didn't discriminate in age. And if it could happen to someone as young as them, it could come knocking on my door.

Perhaps, that was the beginning of my fear of death.
Dorothy A Dec 2009
I want to go
where people are free
from the gravity of life's care,
the needless cares
that keep us feeling like we
weigh a ton.
To never feel
the pain of rejection.
To never feel
that I don't measure up.
To never feel
like I have to fake it to be myself.

I want to go
where people
don't have their ear glued to a cell phone,
their fingers feverishly texting,
where people pass one another
and know someone just passed them by,
knowing enough just to smile.
Dorothy A Nov 2010
I want to write a poem
but the words escape me
Is there anything new
under the sun?

I've written about
Love
Pain
Depression
Anger
Death
God
Evil
Light
Hope
Nature­
and so on

I don't want to sound redundant
I don't want to regurgitate the same thing
I fear I might be a broken record

So I wait patiently for some more inspiration

I want to write a poem
but the words escape me
Is there anything new
under the sun?
Dorothy A Aug 2010
You may be wanting from me
Something profound
Some great masterpiece
Something that demands awe
And expands your mind

Something so wonderful
That The Thinker
Will have something to
Ponder on forever
In his ageless, stoic, iron pose
Wondering of its great depth
And wisdom!

But to heck with that!

I want to write of fluff
And all that stuff
Something of bubblegum *****
And unicorn dreams
Something of kittens
Doing summersaults
Something of polka dots
On Dalmations

I don't want to solve
The worlds problems!
I don't want to be a
A nobel laureate!

I want to write of fluff
And all that stuff
Of honey dripping
Off the sugar trees
Of the moon
Made out of cheese
I'll solve the world's problems
Another time!
For now allow me
That fantasy!
Dorothy A Jan 2015
When winter comes, I think of survival. I know that trying to survive consists all throughout the year, but I really sense it in winter. I am blessed. I have all the provisions--a warm place to live, adequate clothing and food on the table--though I am poor.  

The 2013/2014 winter of last year was one of the worst ones on record. Polar vortex--I never even heard of such a term--but now I was stuck in one. The icy, frozen blast was relentless and wickedly dangerous, the snow practically endless. This year is not a copycat version, but the arctic blasts have come to remind me of how fragile that existence can be, that survival isn't a guarantee but more of a privilege. That is why the world needs to be interconnected to make it, as opposed to each man out for himself. Survival--I never take it for granted.
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