Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Christmas is upon me, it's just another year
that I  am reminded of the past, and I sit in tears

Everything was supposed to be about, fun, parties and shopping
While my mother sat pouting in her chair, yelling and drinking

If I wasn't so bad, she'd say, we could go visiting others
But I was the one who always had to deal with my mother

You didn't act as I expected you to when you opened your gift
She'd run off to her room, pretending to cry because she was miffed

I'd then take each gift and go to her room and unwrap them slowly
& tell her how much I liked it, and she always made me feel lowly.

She said "You ruined another Christmas, when it was for you nice
The way you are, some day you will pay for your deeds the price

Copyright 2018
all rights reserved
working on still
170 · Jan 2019
The Enemy Within
My Enemy lies within me
I've learned to hate myself
for who I am, and who I am not
dreams that were never born and others, shot down by my mother.
never being good enough, something about me was very bad.
others were better, smarter and deserved happiness when I did not.
dependent on her as she encouraged,  lied to others of my demands
Mothers words are poison, toxic, filled and spewing destruction
Though she's gone, those words are still heard inside my head at everything I do.
haunted by her choice of words, using them on myself daily hearing her anger inside my head

copyright Jan 23, 2019
all rights reserved
99 · Jul 2019
Grandma's Quilt
On my grandparents farm I recall
laying in the grass on the quilt that grandma made
looking up through the breezy tree's to the blue skies and bright sun
Summer half over, getting close to harvest time
The grandparents are walking through their fields of corn
Uncle sitting on the tractor under a shady tree sipping at some lemonade
My aunt is sitting on the porch swing drinking some pop, resting after
cleaning out the Smokehouse.
The cows standing outside the fence looking at me as if I'm going to entertain them.
a work in progress
Christmas isn't always joyful for everyone
Many are homeless, ill and in need of care
Ignored by those who are always happy
No one wants to be burdened with sorrow
It's better to visit with those who make you happy
Because problems are that persons fault
So it's best not to get involved
They could have a mental illness
Staying in your cozy life
Don't step out of the circle
Is a way to pretend that all things are good
While the rest of the world needs attention

Copyright 2018
all rights reserved
72 · Dec 2019
Hearing the sounds of different trains rolling down the track
the horn sounds make erie echoes in the hollar.
The old steam trains still running, and carrying passengers to historical destinations along an old canal route
As one train slowly passes by the neighbors back yards wave as the
men pass by.
One little girl who is fishing in her grandfathers pond yells and waves at the on coming train,
work in progress
64 · Dec 2019
Echoes of the past
Music of long ago reminds me of old boyfriends.
Taking me back to the exact time of my life
Memories I treasure, and have little regret
of things I did, people I hung around with
and places I went.
Still wanting to feel young and relive those times
Heading into my sixties, it can only be a dream
Now all I have to look back on is the memories
and the smells of yesteryears past.
work in progress
62 · Apr 2020
The Covid Effect
Tangled Emotions-The Covid-19 Effect

I feel like we (I) are living in suspended animation, stop action, or caught in a time warp, on pause, on hold, virtual reality, surreal, dazed, stuck, and drugged, in a fog, between two worlds. This doesn’t feel real to me. When will I wake up?

All these emotions are running amok in me. I feel I’m being pulled in many directions, what am I supposed to do, think or feel? How am I supposed to act? What is expected of me? Who am I? Where do I go from here? What’s next?

I can’t think, I can’t feel, I can’t breathe, I’m numb to the very core, I’m expecting something bad to happen, something that may or may not ever come. I feel like in my head that I’m a prisoner that can never get out. I want to cry but I can’t, I want to scream but I can’t, I want to hide but I can't, I want to run, but I can’t. I’m waiting for death, I’m waiting for life.

I’m in the middle of nowhere, floating in space, I’m in the middle of the field and as far as I can see there are trees and grass, but no people or animals, and no other life. I’m running in circles, and I can’t stop, my head is spinning like a top. Waiting for uncertainty to stop I am alone.

This is building inside me like a volcano, and the New Madrid fault lines are rumbling, this is a Tsunami ready to flow but there is nowhere for any of this “fallout” to go, Trying to make the best out of a merciless situation.

Copyright 2020
all rights reserved
a work in progress

— The End —