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 Aug 2015 jat
Kelsey Burks
It's a little funny when you drink cough syrup, despite not having a cold.
Popping a few pills is a bit strange when you have no nerve pain.
And it's a tad ironic, taking fever reducers when you don't have the flu.
Because in reality
you're so much sicker than you thought
 Aug 2015 jat
PG
Life
 Aug 2015 jat
PG
What must it have been like thirty-four years ago
For my parents, still with three months to go?
Weddings and funerals days before they had attended
Now one life begins just after another ended.

Nine months the calendar says we must wait
But not for my arrival; just couldn’t risk being late
July was the due date, not any time before
But I arrived instead in April, month number four.

Thinking back on it now, I must quickly pause
And ask what kind of commotion did I cause?
The first cries from my mouth, the first glimpse at my head
What were they thinking about where life had led?

A priest baptized me quickly as a child of the Lord
I gradually improved, and then their spirits soared
Months later I would come to my first and only home
But unlike most children I did not begin to roam

Both said I used my energy to speak
It was almost like I knew my body was too weak
I would give anything to spare them the pain and shock
Of being told by doctors I would never truly walk.

I don’t know for a fact but I’m guessing my dad
Took this news to heart quickly and got really mad
After all, this man wanted to make others feel better
And now his own son was sick?  Here come the four letters

Or was their no sadness between them?  No anger? No pain?
Just a quiet resolve to let normalcy reign?
I suppose in some way they had no choice to make
Just do the best job they could and accept any mistakes.

This may seem strange, but I truly want to know
After being told this, where did they think my life would go?
How did this change their plans for me?
What did they think?  What could I be?

Don’t mistake this for pity; I’m not feeling sad
My childhood was awesome; the best I could have had
A brother and sister who helped, played, teased and fought
Would I change anything, you may ask?  Absolutely not!

Parents who encouraged me to learn, grow, and love life
Never hiding that all of us would one day face strife.
I was never promised anything would be simple or done with ease
But lately I just want to shout “Can I catch a break please?”

Don’t misunderstand, I’m not here to place blame
We all have parts to play in life’s little game.
But sometimes it feels like the wheels have gone off the track
And I’m looking for ways to get the balance back

People often say with a grimace or a frown
That life goes by too fast, and they wish time would slow down.
That is not my main complaint, but if I had to take a crack
It would be that I feel just about a decade out of whack.

Up through high school was pretty much an active blur
Football games, pools, proms, I never really felt unsure
My 16th year passed without trips to Driver’s Ed
But I never really cared because I knew what lay ahead

Graduating HS and then leaving town
Heading to college away from parents?  Nothing could bring me down
That summer and the next four years simply couldn’t be beat
At that point, it seemed like the world was at my feet.

My time at college would change me at my core
Hangovers?  Drug-addled roomies?  Never had those before
I wasn’t totally naïve; I knew all three existed
But voluntarily choosing them just seemed to make things twisted.

Yup, I was a goody-goody; though not quite like the Pope
But whenever things went off script it was hard enough to cope
Like telling a mom her son was kicked out after she asked me
Or when he said, “If the cops come don’t worry; I crashed into a tree.”

I didn’t mind these changes; though many thought I should
If they didn’t serve as a reality check, what else ever would?
Old friends left and new ones were made
Some memories are gone now, but so many have stayed

My first prom date in high school soon went away
Freshman year of college, right before Valentine’s Day
Soon after, a new girlfriend came along for a stint
At that point, I saw what craziness meant.

It wasn’t her fault; that’s not what I meant
We had good times; including a traveling version of RENT
But there was no real spark between us; just one of those things
Very quickly she learned how to pull my strings

Those two people??  Yup, they’re it
Keeps running through my mind
Yet I still believe there is someone
Out there for me to find.

I’ve been out with women since and felt more than a tingle
It’s just that none of them have ever been single
Married, engaged, friendzoned, or my decision
It feels like I’m out on an undercover mission

Online dating pops up in my head
Don’t have the guts to see where that would have lead
Please don’t read this and start to feel sad
It is not intended as a personal ad

I’m bringing it up because all too often
People with disabilities falling in love is all but forgotten
Every time the subject comes out of my mouth
People run for the hills or start heading south

Even friends and family who go back a long way
Often stay silent with nothing to say
Kept waiting for that much hyped talk about safety, women, and manhood
But no one  ever said a word, and I’m not sure they ever could.

I’m not an idiot of course, I know how it goes
Have fun, be respectful and safe, put bros before **’s
These days, I will stop and think   Do people even care?  
Or simply feel like it’s impossible because of the chair?

That’s the million dollar question with an answer unsaid
I don’t regret a single minute of where my life has led
My five nieces and nephews bring more joy than I’ve ever had
But eventually someday, I want to be a dad

Whenever that thought gets some space in my head
I always try and visualize five plus years ahead.
Many logistical questions abound
Could I chase him or her?  Change a diaper?  Pick them up and carry them around?

Be a good teacher of what they should know?
Compassion and hope no matter where time may go?
Give them all of the best things in life?
Without adding a burden to any future wife?

Don’t get ******; I’m not cursing the chair
Or saying that it has become too much for me to bear
It’s my legs, my freedom, and my travel; hope that doesn’t sound cheesy
But I also understand why it may make others uneasy

I don’t drive on my own, can’t dress or shower without an aide
So people don’t worry much about me getting laid
Totally understandable, no problem there
My issue comes when others think I don’t WANT these things or care.

I’ve heard “You drink??” in surprise and “Hey man, you must have pills”
Not screaming back takes all of my will.
“I won’t hurt you; will I?; “Do you smoke **** for the pain?”
Comments like these just drive me insane.

Not all of them are meant with spite
I can tell the difference and am usually right
But it must be out in the open and said without care
That people with disabilities should do whatever they can dare

It’s not always easy; that’s why I started this rhyme
Unexpected obstacles and problems can eat away at our time
But always keep people around who will let you dream
Celebrate your successes, and be there when you need to scream

They may not be the ones you thought or who you knew the longest
But you don’t need physical power to be among the strongest
Even if it takes more time than first thought
Never let anyone say that you should not have fought

Go to concerts, casinos, see the B’s, C’s, Pats, or Sox
Resist when anyone tries to put you in a box
Always give and expect 100 percent; never settle for half
And I guarantee no matter what, you will have the last laugh

To those who may know me,  thanks for being there
In ways big and small, you’ve all shown that you care.
It’s good to get this out with no apology
My next step isn’t clear yet, but no one will stop me!
 Aug 2015 jat
Bailey Lewis
The history of our skin
Remains the same
Because our scars tell
The stories we could
Never tell
But when they heal
I’ll cut all ties to the past
And live in the present
We all need to eventually move on.
 Aug 2015 jat
Anne Sexton
Clothes
 Aug 2015 jat
Anne Sexton
Put on a clean shirt
before you die, some Russian said.
Nothing with drool, please,
no egg spots, no blood,
no sweat, no *****.
You want me clean, God,
so I'll try to comply.

The hat I was married in,
will it do?
White, broad, fake flowers in a tiny array.
It's old-fashioned, as stylish as a bedbug,
but is suits to die in something nostalgic.

And I'll take
my painting shirt
washed over and over of course
spotted with every yellow kitchen I've painted.
God, you don't mind if I bring all my kitchens?
They hold the family laughter and the soup.

For a bra
(need we mention it?),
the padded black one that my lover demeaned
when I took it off.
He said, "Where'd it all go?"

And I'll take
the maternity skirt of my ninth month,
a window for the love-belly
that let each baby pop out like and apple,
the water breaking in the restaurant,
making a noisy house I'd like to die in.

For underpants I'll pick white cotton,
the briefs of my childhood,
for it was my mother's dictum
that nice girls wore only white cotton.
If my mother had lived to see it
she would have put a WANTED sign up in the post office
for the black, the red, the blue I've worn.
Still, it would be perfectly fine with me
to die like a nice girl
smelling of Clorox and Duz.
Being sixteen-in-the-pants
I would die full of questions.
 Jul 2015 jat
Ann M Johnson
Appreciation costs so little yet but always means so much!
I truly appreciate all of you, my Hello Poetry friend's :)
 Jul 2015 jat
katie
Cosmic girl
 Jul 2015 jat
katie
When I was small
I walked on fairy dust and
my dreams were as tall
as skyscrapers towering
above the universe
inside of me, was the galaxy.
I was born of the cosmos,
full of light and love
passionate in my quest to
give this to others.
But as I grew my star began to fade,
stars need love and light to survive
and deprived of both my blazing fire
transformed into weak candlelight.
At school I had learnt it was easier
to hide your light
than to stand out as different
and be extinguished in an instant.
So I kept myself to myself
at the back of the class,
knowing the answers but not
shouting them out.
I daydreamed, and doodled
stars on the corners
of my books, all the while
I could hear the universe
calling out to me to trust,
that we are all born of this
cosmic stardust.
 Jul 2015 jat
Ashley Lynn LeBlanc
All I can remember...
Was trying not to cry
My face was hot, and my eyes felt like grapes
about to burst from my head.
Hands gripped my throat, and still,
my body, unconvinced,
was shaking for air.

I don't remember scratching as much as I remember
Trying to move my legs.
All I know is that suddenly the wall was slamming into my back,
and my eyes could only focus on
the thin red lines on his bare arms.
I was pinned to the wall by my throat,
like a butterfly...
trying to fly away...
trying to get away...
Look, how pretty.
I thought if only God would show up,
I would never catch a butterfly again,
Promise.

I remember thinking,
"Please. Please. Please. Please."
More like a mantra than a prayer.
As if I was willing him to be finished with me,
my shell;
willing him to be pleased enough to just let me sleep.
Or die.
Or live.
But I couldn't really think of anything
without the oxygen pumping my ideas through me.

I didn't even realize when I stopped struggling,
I was just suddenly still and he said,
"Can't have you passing out."
And he let go.
And God let go.
And I let go.
And I started to cry
as he threw me over his shoulder.

I could see so many beautiful spots in my eyes.
There was Red. There was Blue.
Some of them were dancing.
Fading in and out.
It was like they were twinkling.
My own beautiful endless night sky.
Van Gogh, where are you?

Then I suddenly became aware of myself;
My shorts gone, my skin bare to the coldness.
I was lying with my hands pinned between my back and the floor.
I started taking stock of myself
And tasted blood on my lips.
I suddenly thought of pennies;
lots of pennies floating in front of my eyes.
No wonder they were twinkling.

I heard more than felt
him laboring above me.
He was silent and wouldn't look at my face.
And I was aware of my eyes burning
as salt water seeped out on
a quest for the ocean.
I was going with them.
My tears.
I would be a sea captain.
Far from this.
Call me Ishmael.

But it was the most quiet I've ever cried
as if I didn't want the weeping to disturb him.

"God, please. please. please."

And I was taken back to another form
hovering above my young body,
whispering things into my ear about playing house,
and staying quiet;
"Shhh. Mommies have to be quiet."
I wanted to go back to playing with my dollhouse.
Please, let me go play with my dollhouse.

I am breathing on my own again.
I am back in the room, staring up in horror,
at a boy I thought I knew.
I was trained for this,
I was taught to be silent
from childhood.
I was shown how to react to this
so long ago;
in silence.

But I was not born for this.
I couldn't have been born for this.
I was born to give life, I was born to create,
I was born to bring hope.
I am a divine creation,
Aren't I?
I feel like I'm floating.

He is finished with me.
He lets me go.
But for some reason I don't know how to sit up anymore.
He walks out to have a cigarette.
My throat is sore,
My eyes are burning,
and I feel bruised under my skin,
all the way to the middle.
To a soft part in the center
that I suddenly see
as a tender nimbus,
floating over my chest.
Forcing me to rise
and walk again.
Up, up, and away.
© Ashley Quarterman 2010


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