It’s the Stanley Cup Finals, The Penguins are doing well
So I’m a hockey widow but on this I don’t dwell
My man is as tense and excited as a first time Dad
So they better kick ***, or he’ll really be mad
If they lose in game seven, I’ll get my husband back
To make him feel better I’ll get nasty in the Sack

Oh my cheerful little *******, They hadn’t any notion
Of all the silliness, of all the commotion
One day their purpose would change
Temporarily my body would rearrange
Their use not merely ******,
Suddenly they were meant to be practical
Away with my decorative commodity
Hello to something of an oddity
So I traded in those dainty little things
For two mountains bursting with springs
Slowly the transformation took place
Albeit lacking in grace
Oh, my lovely unpresumptuous *******
Had become so useful, for that I am blessed
My zippy little ****** had grown to such size
And areola darkened and saucerish in guise
So to you I must ask a serious question,
After this, my descriptive dissection
I borrowed my *******, why be afraid?
It is the babes whose homage will be paid
The ******* that had been lent, weren’t ****** or vile
You might even go so far as to beguile
Because their most typical use was on hold
Their new purpose should’ve been a sight to behold
Instead people like to glorify or shame
As if those ******* are actually the same
Forget your twisted ****** mind
And to breastfeeding mothers try to be kind

A whisper of a notion
A whim ready to go
An anti-plan put in motion
A seed ready to sow
Relinquishing to a passing fancy
Do what ever it please
So long as it's not too chancy
A whim on the breeze

Her thoughts became a jumble, her memory tangled
Oh how easily our fragile mind can get mangled
She used to sing and strum a guitar, while I twirled
Now she moans and cries, frightened of this world
She told me, "My computer don't work good, no more"
I hadn't an idea a battle with dementia she was in for
Her laugh was so boisterous, and her mood often jolly
Now she lies in bed wailing, the last leg of this life folly
She told me stories of a poor farm girl in a land far away
I listened intently, but my thoughts have begun to betray
The memories in this life she shaped have since faded
Of the ones she shared, few remain, forgetfulness invaded
Sometimes a loved one remembers and shares a story
How wonderful to have a new moment of her in her glory
As time goes by and she slips further into murkiness
Our family must gather muster and sturdiness
My mother whom to me is so dear is an empty shell
Sadly, she is so far from herself, on this I often dwell
There is a day still to come, and she will be whole again
My mother at her loveliest with God up in heaven

Há palavras que não conheço
Falto fluidez,
Quando eu tento falar em português
Eu nasci nos Estados Unidos
O inglês vem mais fluido
E de falar sai a minha personalidade
Conversas com versitilidade
Em Portugal é diferente
Eu sou mais prudente
Se você fala essa língua estrangeira
Você me conhece de diferente maneira
Mas um sorriso é uma linguagem transversal
No mundo, não há outra igual

         translation

There are words I do not know
I lack fluency,
When I try to speak in Portuguese
I was born in the United States
English comes fluently
And from speaking my personality comes out
Conversations with versatility
In Portugal it's different
I am more prudent
If you speak that foreign language
You know me differently
But a smile transverses language
In the word there is none alike

Friendship has been fickle
Bonds that last become part of our being
Become our complexity
Changes who we are
I have had the luck of a few of those bonds
But so many are fickle
Friends move , you disagree or lose touch
I have a new friendship, I hope it is not fickle
I hope he becomes a part of my being
Entwined in my complexity
Accepted by those who are already entwined
Without untangling anything vital

Exhaustion is putting raucous children to bed
Left to their own devices they'll  pain your head
Once you've finally settled them down
Your face will be stuck in a perma-frown
Later when you check if everything's OK
They'll look like angels sleeping away  
Don't be fooled by this little deception
Angelic sleeping children are the exception
Be ever aware, certain to stay on your toes
There may be nightmares, as everyone knows.....

I struggle with the idea;

I am not consciously trying to be my best self

Procrastination is my motto

My best self seems intangible and distant

Will it be fleeting when I‘m there?

Will God take me at the moment I am my best self?

Pick me when I am blossoming beautifully

What if I never do?

My own neglect might render me a useless unopen bud

Would God want me then?

Perhaps he uses buds as the filler for his beautiful bouquets

One can hope and pray

My goal before death; be more than filler, BLOOM

He is completely ensconced in his true love’s arms
Entranced by her beauty and all her charms
It was her embrace he craved from the very start
Alas, she was not ready to relent her heart
As years marched forward her volition adjusted
In this change his heart he has trusted
For although he’s ensconced by her embrace
She’d promised it to another man in his place
So as their torrid little deception unfolds
It begs you to wonder whose true love she holds

His mind uneasy due to this tribulation
Begging to come to some arbitration
When all is resolved she must be his
Unfortunately in life it seldom is
Her words have given him so much hope
It’s their essence that gives him means to cope
This man has laid it all down on a line
Trusting everything one day will be fine
Time goes on, and with destiny they flirt
The future must bring some semblance of hurt

I am merely an outsider looking in
The man in question is a dearest friend
Although I have never been one to condone
It would trouble me dearly to find him alone
I’ve looked in his heart and have seen what I see
It will forever belong to her,  it’s crystal to me
So I watch the struggle continue along
It’s in his lover’s virtue resolution belongs
It is easy to judge a man by his varying actions
But clearly this is more than merely attraction
So judgement by me has been put aside
For my friend I wish; transform a lover to bride

There is a drip
It started years ago, slowly
It is torture
The drip is faster now, incessant
Maddening
My love and I weathered it together, for a while
We are cut off now
I am North and he is South, I miss him
Sodden, waterlogged

Up North I’ve found an umbrella, a friend
Twenty minutes a day reprieve
My love’s umbrella blew away, across state lines
Zero minutes a day respite
Not even an old grouch to splash in puddles with
I do, I splash, at times
But when I am with my umbrella, I am blessed
When splashing, appeased

My love and I reunite at home every day, he is sopping
Nearly drowned
I offer intimacy it warms him, dries him off, nearly
A mist still lurks close
Next day it begins again, the dripping
Unceasing dripping
I believe I have the fortitude to handle the drip
But I am not impermeable
Even with my umbrella, because my LOVE is soaked
Sometimes hypothermic

The penumbra that is loss, cast upon us abruptly

The light creeping onto shadow, kissing its edge

Gazing on the dimness or light, betwixt the two we strive

Arbitration just beyond our sphere, amidst our grief

Concentrating on the brilliance, a difficult endeavor

Maneuvering in darkness, nearly impossible

Remain fixed on the penumbra, await the separation

The momentum of loss may cast us in an impetuous direction

But an eclipse does not last forever