Rainy Day To-Do List

Perch high in your favorite
tree on the perfect branch
Observe the receding lightning’s
final flashes.
Eavesdrop on a robin’s conversation.
Clap Along with the thunder
Go ahead and leave a few bare
footprints in the soft earth.
Ponder the low hanging clouds.
Sing with the birds.
And then…
Disappear inside with the first
rays of sunshine.

Sunny Day To-Do List**

Take a moment
and listen in on a yellow grasshopper’s gossip
through the towering blades of grass.
Let the sun kiss your cheeks
till they are pink
and let the warm breeze gently soothe
your rouged face.
Wonder what the ants are up to.
Watch while a leaf falls down.
Compare the sky to a
calm,
blue
ocean
And dare not disturb it with a sound.

My childhood was ripped out
along with the merry-go-rounds
and the teeter totters.
The rose tint of my youth faded to grey
and my imagination was deflated by reality
like and old helium balloon.
Ironically, everything was smaller as a kid.
The neighborhood block I lived on was my world,
everything I needed
and the biggest place in my tiny existence.
But things changed.
Somewhere between the toilet paper tube swords
and the pillow shields,
we grew up.
The stories of the “volcano” on the way to my
grandmother’s house turned out to be nothing more
than a nuclear power plant belching its steamy breath
into the sky like clouds.
We traded in our toys for
credit cards,
car keys,
and a funny thing called responsibility,
and yet, we long for the days of our youth,
when we could kick off our shoes
and kick off from the ground
because when you were young you believed you could soar.
I want the memories of my childhood,
like the smell of blown out birthday candles
or of freshly fallen snow
because flowers only remind me of funerals nowadays
and age makes you sore
and long for the days of the past.

We keep using the phrase
later on in life
A vague band-aid for the now.
But how do you define it?
When does it come?
There are no numbers.
There is no time.
People don't have time to be human
because they are waiting
for a tomorrow that won't come.
All that is certain is that later is promised.
It will come.
Whether it be a day, a week, or 22 years.
Even the seconds ticking by now
is your later coming true.
You will make it to your later.
I promise.

Tonight,
I write a poem for the director
who's life was written in cut time
when he thought he had nothing but time.
And while the music flows and grows,
the ones left behind move on with their movements.
Tonight, I write a poem for the actor who took is final bow,
but before he did he taught me to sing like no one was watching,
and when that didn't work,
sing to someone I love.
Sometimes you light a candle to remember
and end up burning from both ends
and in your desperation for safety
you end up with nothing but a soft mass of wax
that can be used to seal a memory you long to keep.
Our lives are like kites soaring to the sky,
crashing down,
only to be raised one more time,
holding onto the world by one small string,
and nothing but a tale to leave behind.
And at the end of the kite string there is a little girl
in awe of the tail like its a comet,
bursting across the sky with the intensity of the sun.
And maybe, one day,
she will tell her son or daughter about the
inspirations that reside among the stars.

We fell in love over a game of war.
With others the game could have lasted for hours,
but with you I scored because I won in only a few moves.
What I didn't know
was at the same time I was winning your affection.
You saw me at my worst
and yet I faced no rejection
of me being tired, crazy, and probably cranky
but you still liked me like the best you could see.
I wish I had known then that I would fall for you.
I wish I had known all about you.
But I'm getting there.
Slowly.  
And people who don't know you say I could do better.
And I laugh, smile, and play along,
but no.
Maybe I could, but I wouldn't want to.
Better is not always best,
but you are the best you can be
and you may not be perfect
but you're perfect for me.
And that's love.
You’re the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep
and you are my first thought when I wake
and I'm longing to keep
these memories of you close,
because quite frankly long distance *****
and you and I both agree
but when our four year stretch is finally up
you and I will be free
to have and to hold to love and to cherish
until we are old and when we finally perish
people will know us,
not me,
not you,
but both of us together
and I know the real truth
that love can sneak up like in a game of cards
when the two people playing accidentally play only with hearts.

My life is a big, awkward mess.
Seriously!
Between first kisses and silent car rides.
From accidental touches to stupid sayings
I have covered all the bases in the game of "uncomfortable moments."
I am a keeper of memories
and my curse will be to forever remember
how I have made a complete fool of myself,
but on the flip side I feel the responsibility
to memorize the world as it is
and the faces I know
and spell them out with words in poems.
But sometimes I don't need words.
I will speak without them
and let my face scream what I am really feeling,
but my hands,
they will tell stories of their own as I reach out to touch your palm.
Some days it is OK to simply exist.
Let life pass for a little bit
and wave like royalty as it goes by.
But do not stay for long.
Keep a pair of wings at the ready
and a packed suitcase by the door just in case
you need to fly to catch up.
Sometimes, life is a heap of bad times.
You cannot always outrun the storms,
but you sure can learn to dance in the rain.
Make life a pile of good things, still a mess,
but with a better chance at happiness.
It's good to sit down and take a big spoonful of perspective
because, trust me, you are going to need it in a world of narrow mindedness.
Stay open to new things, chances, ideas, loves, lessons, and hopes.
Move ahead while always maintaining the
ability to follow that someone who you know can lead you the
right way.
I have come to see that my life is a
big,
wonderful,
awkward mess
and I am in love with every moment of it.

I knew,
I knew it was coming.
From the moment you put in the
extra effort to walk me to my car,
you slipped on your sneakers
and walked me down the driveway.
My heart pounded as if to escape its very confines
because it knew the unspoken love between us
was about to grow.
As we said our usual goodbyes,
we hugged and I turned my head,
as only instinct knew how,
in order to meet your lips.
And then it happened!
...You kind of ate my mouth…
Clearly we both had very different ideas
on how this whole ‘first kiss’ thing worked,
but it didn’t matter.
After that first kiss, I only wanted more.
You are my boyfriend,
my lover,
my significant other
and as I fumbled with the keys to my car
and sank into the driver’s seat
I realized just how lucky I was
to be in love with you.

The average American teenage girl,
when in love,
will lose and average of two hours of sleep a night
talking to that special someone.
On average,
they also might experience a mild case
of internal befuddlement.
No worries though,
it only feels as if your stomach imploded
and your heart is in your throat.
Plus, the elevated levels of dopamine in your system
can only mean one thing:
Delusions of grandeur.
Stay calm!
These will only further explain the feeling
you are experiencing,
and that my friend is
infatuation,
adoration,
fascination,
or in other words,
Love.
When it comes to love,
I broke terminal velocity when I fell for you.
But, you know,
terminal velocity is just an average.

When I was small,
I had the idea that I wanted a fairy tale love story
with a brave prince to save me,
take me in his arms and ask me to be his,
but I don’t want that anymore.
I want the imperfections,
the awkwardness.
I don’t want you to be my prince charming.
I want you as you are.
I want my awkward white boy from the Midwest
who likes video games, sports, and sings like an angel.
So sing to me,
because if eyes are the windows to the soul
then your voice is a door flung wide open.
And when I thought all my doors where closed
you invited me in for Chick Fil A and lemonade.
It just wasn’t going through my thick head.
You were dropping hints harder than boulders
and it took me awhile,
but I finally cracked on a Pokémon poem,
which you didn’t write,
but the words were just as sweet as ones of your own.
I was oblivious to your advances,
but they say love is blind.
So I want to be lost
like Helen Keller in an Ikea.
And while I am there,
I will pick out a bookshelf for him to build
and we will share stories by the glow of the fire.
The essence of your presence is like smoke
and as fleeting as a dream on the precipice of sleep.
You are like the ‘Q’ words in Scrabble.
You don’t come around often,
but when you do, it’s pretty rewarding.
I wanted to learn every combination of your letters,
but I was careful of my spelling
because I knew your grammatical ways.
Show me chivalry is not dead.
Prove the world wrong, stare it in the face,
turn the other way and take me in your arms.
Instead of a superman in tights,
you will be my savior in gym shorts
because that is much more real
than a dragon slaying demigod.

I watched you as a smile spread across your face.
With no words spoken or sound uttered
I knew the perfect curve of your lips
came strictly from your
beautiful mind.
I wish I could take that unabashed smile
and lock it away for a rainy day
or toss it up to the heavens and let the stars
catch it in their silvery hands
because I swear your smile could reflect the sun.
As your smile grew each pearl that was revealed added new value...
I wanted the smile to be about me.
I wanted the next time you grinned to be shared with mine,
but it can never happen if I sit here
quietly.

My first kiss tasted of soy sauce.
Not literally tasted! We didn’t go that far,
but the bitter saltiness of it
only enhanced the sweetness of the moment.
He had never had Chinese food,
And I had never been kissed.
That’s right! At the age of 17
My lips had never met another boy’s
And for the first time, in my car
Outside the band room, I swear I could
have heard music floating in the air
in the small space between my face
and his as he leaned In for a second peck.
We dated for a while, but eventually
We broke up because we were too similar, I guess.
I liked men, and, uh, so did he…
I began to think I missed my chance I that kiss
And the validity of it was brought into question.
Maybe I had missed my chance
Way back on the playground
Because I never stole kisses behind the slide
Or teased the boys with my third grade girlish charm
Like all my other friends.
Maybe, deep down, I knew I could only settle
On true love.
Not just a fling that was only a thing
For a week of “pure bliss”
Because when I find love, I want Full House perfection.
I want a Tanner family connection.
Something that when I go grocery shopping
I can proudly say, “Those kids climbing the walls
And that man knocking on all the watermelons.
Yeah, I’m with them.”
And people will have no other choice
But to understand the perfection I am in.
I hold onto the hope that someday
The strings connecting all the living things
Will tie me together with someone I can love
And who will love me
And one day I will find a man who
Doesn’t have the dreaded cootie disease.
Because for every Adam,
there must be an Eve or where else would we be?
Someday and one day can seem so far way
If you get anxious,
But I will let things fall in place
For me to fall in love.
I just have to remember
Not to be afraid to taste the soy sauce.

Somewhere, there is a poem written for you.
Maybe I’m not the one who wrote it,
but somewhere,
someone saw the beauty of your movements
and thought the only way to capture it was with words.
So they put pen to paper,
ink to lines,
and wrote down all your curves and angles.
They toiled,
line by line, letter by letter, and word by word
and when the words united
they made a sentence,
and that sentence made
an arm, a leg, a mind, a person.
Your life wrote poem upon poem
until you had an anthology so thick you had to move on.
And you walked out of that book
with a crooked smile and a determined look
right into the world of the unknown.
But that’s ok because you liked it that way.
The more unfamiliar the better.
It left you room to fill your pages
with your side of the story instead of someone else’s.
You are like some eclectic collector,
storing parts of your life for later,
or in a worse case, a rainy day.
And you don’t collect stories or poetry.
You collect words.
And people would dare try to erase you!
I tried to erase you…
But you never left.
As I looked from a different angle,
seeing if it made any difference then.
But no, you were still there,
broken and bent at your odd angle,
permanent and black on the page.

Dear daughter,
Let me introduce myself.
Whether you call me your friend, your confidante
Or you call me a **** and crazy,
I am your mother,
Your Ma, your mom, your momma, your mommy,
Your Mother.
I will be your faithful guide, friend, companion.
I Will be your first teacher and your last.
Sometimes I will be in front of your saying “Nice try! But try again.”
Or I may be beside you unsure of the same answer as you.
But sometimes I will follow behind you, learning from you along the way.
Remember the good times
And the bad, and be scared of your feelings
Because fear is an emotion too.
When you become lost, never let the wonders leave your eyes,
Even though you may wander.
But in your wandering, your small hands could touch nations,
If only you would let them.
Just believe the world has magic in it,
Because the moments of small silence give way
To their own kind of bewitchment.
Sing loud and proud like no one is watching…
And if you can’t, Happy Birthday works just as well.
Look for the glow worms, my child,
The baby fireflies,
Because they are a rare creature indeed
And can only be seen at the darkest of times,
Just like the stars.
Let your eyes be like fireflies and your steps like a prance
Because nothing attracts men like a bright girl who can dance.
So move your way closer to me
Because there is a pigtailed shaped hole in my heart
For the little girl that you will always be to me.
Live as many lives as possible and explore several worlds,
But always follow the banana bread crumbs back home by nightfall
Because nothing good ever happens after eleven…
Unless you are making a wish.
And if you are, load every 11:11 wish with a prayer
And aim it towards the sky.
Send a letter to the stars to make room for one more
Because someday you will shine,
But on your way to the top,
Tread lightly, my child,
And don’t wake the beasts
Because they exist
Trust me, I know.
Even when you are grown and have daughters of your own
Think back to me and remember.
Love,
Your Mother

I grew up between the pages of a book
with invisible friends that could only be seen
through the mind’s eye.
I could envision what wasn’t there
and I was free to write my own adventure.
Maybe that is why I became an actor.
Because I wasn’t quite ready to give up
on the game of make-believe.
And I knew a man who wasn’t quite ready to give up
on learning.
When he read books, he fell in love with every word.
It was a new romance with each turn of the page.
His heart would lie on
page 85,
Or 50,
Or 123,
depending on whether or not he enjoyed a character that day.
Throwing books was always acceptable,
And he could demand excellence by simply peeking over his crooked glasses.
He was content to exist in perfect silence
and asked the same of us.
But when those moments of silence were broken
beautiful choruses erupted
because he believed that poetry was like a song without a tune;
Even the most tone deaf could croon
to the sweet melody of simple phrases
that even inexperienced tongues could move to.
Music was everywhere in the room.
In the scribbling of pencils,
The cracking of a book’s spine,
The laugh of a student,
Or in the mind of a great teacher.
He was the kind of man I could have believed
had placed the moon in the sky with only his words.
And we were blessed to be his diaries of flesh
and with every hushed story he told
and every beautiful word he spoke
he became an open book.
And by the end, we only wanted more,
but he simply stated,
“You know all my stories. We read them all.”
And with that, he pushed us from the nest
and he expected us to fly,
and so much more.
I was amazed by him because he taught me to soar.
There are some amazing individuals out there
that we are blessed to know
and with them, minds blossom so,
a teacher of language and beauty is not soon forgotten.

The deluge came without warning,
too fast for it to seep underground.
So, they broke the soil for a taste of rain
and openly met the flood.
They cinched towards exposed surfaces
only asking for more.
So quickly, it was as if
their bloated bodies were ripped from the soil
and thrown to the sidewalk.
They littered the pathways.
A mass suicide in pink.

God was in a good mood the day he crafted you.
He chuckled as he carved your hands,
smiled as he opened your mouth,
snickered as he stamped a birthmark on your back,
and he gently laid you to sleep for your journey to earth.
You were shrunk down and sent,
as all children are,
to the chosen family to fit your needs.
You grew into the person you are now,
but maybe it doesn't feel right,
like you are missing a gift
God had given,
it was lost in translation
on the trip down from heaven.
Maybe,
maybe the world clipped your wings.
Maybe, somewhere along the line,
you were punished for trying to fly.
Your mind was caged
and your thoughts were cut to fit into a box.
But you have power beyond it all.
Muscle and bone working in tandem to create you.
You are a beautifully crafted human being,
With ears to hear words of greatness.
Eyes to see the wonders of our world
and a heart that beats like the feet of a steady traveler.
You!
You are you and there has
never been anyone who can measure up.
So continue on your journey through life
and walk on weary traveler
and remember that you can
always overcome strife.