He would watch with his tender eyes.
Almost misting, sometimes.
Almost smiling, sometimes.
I think I mistook tenderness
seeing it as his love of me.
However, he was not tender.
The look covered the lies that
he did not want me to see.
He melt my brains with the look.
No tenderness, just pity
for my ignorance.
"Ahh, she knows better."
But we all grow and see.
Now, I look with tenderness
at him with thoughts
of what he missed.

Stop toting.
Lift with reward.
Sorry short.
Not sorry lived,
Unload the burden.
Do the spectacular.
Walk with direction.
Love with reckless abandon
Each day with open heart.
Hear the news
Not with sorrow,
But with understanding
Sorry short,
Not sorry lived.

To him, it was a clear blue day;
His father came in the kitchen
Wearing a brown fedora;
He walked out of the morning chill;
Long puff of cotton strand pulled across the sky;
As the teacher sat in the classroom talking to his class,
this was his memory for Thanksgiving Day.
He never said where the father had been.
Was he a visitor-- did he go for milk.
The crisp morning air meant more than
the father's purpose.
Yet in the story, you knew the English teacher
longed for his father.
He drifted from the class to that time.
Poetry in his heart wasted on a rainy day in high school.

It sets forth the beginning.
It sets forth the reason.
It sets forth the place.
It sets forth the children.
It sets forth the intent.
It sets forth the remedy.
It sets forth the end.
My humble complaint.

Lonesome house in the field.
No longer full of voices.
No longer full of family.
Where lives bloomed.
Where tragedy came.
Left abandoned.

Lonesome house in the field.
No longer claimed.
No longer wanted.
With front porch dipping down.
In graceful bow to passing traffic.

Lonesome house sitting in the field.
No longer stories.
No longer groomed.
With golden fields surrounding,
Collapsing dreams forever lost
in a pile of wood coming down.

Make room.
Rain or shine.
A happening to share.
No RSVP.
Just a notion.
Day into night.
Drunk with music.
Green grass under foot.
Beverage toted by pickup.
Fellowship,
Maybe romance.
Sleep it all off.
Portable party.
Ease of youth.
Angels dancing.
Demons spinning.
Life living.

Child wraps arms
around herself.
Gently poking bony parts.
Momma says "Angel Wings."
Tightly hidden by earthly self.
Waiting with expectation.
Stretching to burst
forth with purpose.
"Come out!"
Momma strokes the angel wings.
"Not soon, live your life.
The wings won't come 'til
you are done. So much life
for those wings to grow.
Keep those wings  deep inside."

Don't just follow.
Put a thought in the path.
Might be a block.
Might be a bridge.
Don't forget the lesson
of a child to share.
Build mudge pies.
Lay bare your turtle heart.
Choose to listen.
Speak your point softly
once you've heard.
Maybe you'll win.
Maybe you'll lose.
Be yourself
Respect your group.
Let us not forget to share.
Appreciate the gift of others.
Sometimes choose me.
Promise to heal others.

All flavor in one sip.
A sip taken with a glance
over the cup into deep
lost space of nothing eyes.
Beautiful empty with no mood.
Such discomfort in blank nothing
for all but me.
All had stepped away.
My fascination with
How to pull forth the thought
which is so deeply unseen.
A twitch at the corner of lips.
The open eyes are watching
with almost something.
I raise my face and smile.
There you are.
Not so lost, not so alone.
Just withdrawn.

They packed her Ford with his belongings.
Texas to Philadelphia.
Internet love fully bloomed.
He left it all behind
to make it work.
Old enough to know better
Dumb enough to hope.
Texas to Philadelphia.
She called the shots.
He fell in line.
He left it all behind.
Now, he only calls his sons.
She pays the child support.
He left it all behind.
His ex drugs too much.
His momma cries.
The boys are going wild.
He's stuck in Philadelphia.
His heart's no longer there.

With all the celebration
of Eve and Day;
The festive expectation;
The next day is forgotten;
The feeling of all done;
The giant wave of over;
Wait for another Eve and Day
yet to come.
The guess of how many more.
Somehow the bust of over
is never truly calculated
in the fun of Eve and Day.
All  the thought and expense.
Yet the gift is always there.

Far from done,
But nothing left
To give.
Just the loneliness
Creeping from
Outer edges to
My center.
What will bring me
From empty.

Dry with bliss.
Sensation without purpose.
Just a near miss.
A peak rising
amongst the clouds.
Sunshine blazing.
Warm sensation.
No acknowledgement
of below.
Vacation from despair.

Never to your face.
Written in rhyme.
Shared by anonymous
No I never rhyme.
I share your wrong
in rhythm.
My heart bleeds in beat.
I don't ***** words from mouth.
They bleed from brain on paper.
Hoping you feel my paper cuts.

If only I knew,
What to stew.
I'd fill my ***
With a lot.
And let you sip
Until you slip
And let me be
Your only she.
I am no such witch,
I am just a itch.
A chore,
Never one to adore.
No such brew,
Nothing new.
Just  me.
Never we.

Pink it out;
Trace the path;
Color the truth;
Leave traces behind;
Brand your prize.
Silly trip of fancy.
Telling all secrets
of the unforgiven.

Feeding the press
Sprinkling half truths
For busy fish who care not
Where the bites originate
Its on the net -
Its in the net
Must be true
Never knowing truth
Just interesting speculation
Chum on the water
From the chum who claims to know.

The room is spinning;
In my mind
I try to jump on top
As if I am on a Disney ride.
Feeling the sensation
Like teacups spinning.
I don't want to stand
And fall from the ride.
So I rest with eyes shut
Caught on the ride.
My own personal park.

Not my label to be shared;
Sometimes it's just wrong;
Pushing me into a corner.
Is it because you are the one?
Tired of you throwing
It on me as if I own it.
Take back your burden.
Empty my path.
I won't claim the name.
Just a mere woman.
But a fate to be lived.
Without a misnomer.

To sleep late;
To walk outside
and feel the warm sun;
Splash in the cool ocean;
Not worry about others.
To exist with sunburn.
Read my book as I please.
Knowing it will flee
with giggling speed
as child running past.
This week almost more
for thought of what will be.

Only your terms
Smells to me
Worse than cheese.
Done my friend.
Your worth to me
Is none.
Merry Christmas!
***** of a poem.
A personal gift to me!

Wake a day with longing.
Drawing from deep within
Strength from your very core.
To make it better with  sheer
Force of will.
Wellbeing because you want
To make it be.
Chase away the unknown
For that desired.
I will make it go away.
I will find the day
Of results gained.
Wake a day with success.

Rich in form
Rare in color
Radiant
Moves from warm inside
Covering all with sweet blind
Amber tones embrace
Arching in the Air
Wicked thoughts die
Weakness takes the place
Deep breath
Sleeping sighs

Catch the blue
Drift around the moon
Trip over the wrongs
Towards the rights.
Let the sun burn
Your eyes.
Dive into black holes.
No longer defined.
Just a theory.

Holly and mistletoe drape the halls.
Marriages held together with sticky frosting
like gingerbread houses awaiting the
resolutions of the first.
Families hold in place with anticipation.
First babies, first puppies, couple's first Christmas
adorn the trees as ornaments to be kept forever.
Children's hasty gifts made in kindergarten,
first grade, second grade decorate the tree
until fallen to bits unable to hang.
The short day comes with preparation
for the day of blessing and hope.
The short day comes  so quickly
and leaves so quietly,
we almost forget to feel.
But take a step away.
Before is the glory of all that can be.

Wouldn't it be a shame...
If Mother Teresa and Hilter
are in the same place.
Not to share his darkness.
Hopefully to share her light.
Perhaps, he was a sick man
Who needed to be healed.
He was a bad man
who needed to be stopped.
Maybe if they are in the same place,
She has helped him heal.
Wouldn't it be a shame...
For bad not to know
the kindness of good
to only see the weakness.
Wouldn't it be a shame...
For goodness never to have
the opportunity to heal.

Just in the shadows,
Waiting to take a step forward.
Hesitation for a blessing
Or a lack of courage?
Lingering to see.
Not ready to commit.
Always someone else.
Never the hero
to save the day.
Just a bystander to marvel
At life happening.

Water poured throughout the house;
You said I put you in the attic;
No rest all night;
I saved the goldens;
I swam to save the best;
You couldn't rest
As I collected the family
Pulling them from the depths
of flooding waters.
Yet we live in the woods.
There is no rain.
No water, only floods of loss
Which we fight each day.
Loss of memory.
Loss of movement.
Loss of employment.
Loss of liberty.
Pouring throughout our home.
Yet we pull each other out
and move to the next level.
Trying to rise above.

So often I repeat for emphasis
Maybe because I forgot I said it.
Can you endure the redundancy?
What bears repeating to me
May be mundane to you
It is a matter of judgment
and circumspect.
I will try to leave repeating to bears.

Each of us fills our cell
With the honey word
Imagination or real
Working to fill the nest
Building off the life collected
Humming with trial and error
Preparing this giant nest
Sharing with each other
The work we made.
Sweet, maybe deadly if too close.
Unknown workers.
Working side by side in this creation.
Unified in purpose.
Collected using smoke and mask.
To slap on biscuits and devour.

You saw, didn't you?
We weren't alone.
Just outside.
I called the cops.
Don't give me that look.
I make perfect sense.
On the camera.
Just look.
Why did they take you
in the room?
What did they say?
Don't give me that look.
I saw it all.
Its just right here.
On top the roof.
Beside the cars.
I'll try to sleep.

Placed carefully in the pie tin
as kitty looks on;
Rich, wet and dark;
Set carefully in the sun;
Ready to bake;
Seems a true masterpiece:
Rich with texture;
Best left moist;
So deceiving in its place.
How many mudge pies
Take the place of fudge?
Look around and count.
Is it mudge or fudge?
A try will tell.
What fools the eye
does not fool the gut.

Little lady sit there still;
Never raise concern;
No skinned knees;
No challenge, please;
Watch life and learn;
Don't question, just observe;
Not a bother;
Soft spoken;
Hidden by the veil of shyness.
Think your own thoughts;
Dream your silent dreams;
Don't disappoint with rebellion.
Never let them see your thought.
Only share with God.
But the problem is  
once you are grown --
Life's a struggle with a battle
Never learned.
Only dreams and thoughts
of what should be.
Never knowing how it is truly done.

Crazy in my mind
Trapped in a life I did not choose
Crazy in my mind
No release
Duty is mine
No place of solace
Don't share your guilt with me
Crazy in my mind
Let me be
Just a little peace

When I was a child,
Little convertibles were the car
to have;
You grew your hair long;
You walked bare foot;
Wore denim;
Big clothe bags;
Ate vegetables; and
Found yourself by
Travelling the road.

You made me
I made you better
You are gone
My heart cries as I dream
I miss you

Walking in bright
Glow of morning.
Feeling a gentle chill.
More red birds, new beginnings.
Last year were blue birds.
Happiness will return
With fresh start.
Quiet sleep
With fulfilling dreams
Will return.
Deep breath full
Of optimism
And renewal.
Today shines.

He kissed her cheek first
Because he thought the other
Would not notice.
She gave her the better gift
Because she thought the other
Would not notice.
The other would not notice
Because the other granted love
Without condition.
The other did not notice.
But after the other was gone,
the hearts of the children hurt
Because they remembered
Their choices and wished that
Once they had kissed the other first
and given the other a gift of equal value.
The other had no memory
Yet a memory lingered.

He stands beside me.
His sensitive heart catches my despair
And tosses it gently from me.
His easy grip holds me firm with hope.
He knows my dreams for him.
I want him to be free of care.
I don't want him to cry for me.
He is too young to be caught
with me.
I will find peace within
So my son can fully shine
Without a care for me.

The invite opens
For those who are young.
Please RSVP.
Youth without a guest.
Youth without a guess.
Occasion arises.
Warm fate stands ready.
Welcome for those
Who accept.
No going back,
only forward.
Table of options,
Accept the consequences.
Warm fate serves youth.

Upon a knee,
With open heart,
Promise to never part;
Yet there is a part;
A silent hurt;
A shame to hide;
A thought to fear;
So it goes;
Never known;
The doubt that pinches;
An oval cut.
Choked with love;
Left unsaid.
Blind happy eyes.
Warm embrace.
Silence best
For unkind past.

Black wood cook stove
Lit with kindling;
In the corner of the house;
Warm dry heat;
Smutting up throughout;
Smell of char and cedar;
Just obstacle to the toddler
Reaching for wants.
Seared flesh.
Confusing pain.
Just her arm, not her face.
No scars remain.
The stove long gone.
Cold lonesome house
still smells of smoke.

All watched as I answered;
They thought they knew;
It was the New Year;
The special call;
I cradled the phone
with both hands to my ear;
Caller who loved me;
They assumed it was one;
But it was the other.
The other who held me
More dear in his heart
Who could not be near;
The one who was supposed to call
Never called that New Year.
I kept the secret to myself.
I gave the one credit.
I kept the other to myself.
My parallel life smoothed past.

Dream in the big world.
Always trying to catch up.
Falling behind with only thoughts.
Never independent.
Not part of this.
Flights into the abandoned areas of the mind.
Not belonging but never knowing it.
Choosing a path because it exists.
Could happen to anyone.
Yet it happens to her.

Miserable with snot
Eyes rolling with tears
With no emotion just water.
My nose is full as if I had
a good cry without cause.
My throat itches with abuse
of rough useless coughs.
Next week good health will
feel refreshing as I am freed
from this bitter fight with cold.
Don't stand near!
Oh, I know you wouldn't dare.
You are phobic of snot.
Me, too.
I oozes all the time.
I long for next week like a new love.

Listen for the call;
This can’t be all;
Don’t we do for good?
Cassandra yelled muted
Cries to those who
didn’t hear.
Hear me.

I want to run screaming down the street
Let me go!
Let me go!

I want release
Don't follow me!
Don't follow me!

I want to be free
Leave me be!
Leave me be!

I want to let go
But I can't
But I can't

It was better than moonlight.
It was better than birds singing in morning.
It was the sweetness of youth.
It was to be a wonderful memory.
But is was truly nothing.
It was soon forgotten.
It was never forgiven.
It was just a mistake.

Don't remind me,
Don't hop on my last nerve.
I wander about in the lost land
Trying to discover a new path
Looking for a bright end
With answers
Just don't try to compare
Let me be,
Let me breathe.
Do you really think it
makes us stronger?
I thought this was just
a short drop off
for the everlasting.
Just don't.

Keep it behind the the lip.
Not to let it slip.
Share with no one aloud.
Softly scratch it out.
Keep it unsigned.
Make it unclaimed.
Let it drip alone.
Don't own.
Put it out on paper.