i am five years old
daddy’s girl, waiting to be tucked in
as he does so, he says get some sleep
he’ll be here in the morning

its the morning, he’s there
we go out, but soon we have to leave
he says he’s sorry, he has to work
but he’ll make it up to me

i am ten years old
on the couch waiting to be picked up
im going out with my dad
he says he’ll be here soon

it’s been two hours, he won’t make it
he has to work
he said he’ll make it up to me
so i don’t worry

i am fifteen years old
i haven’t heard from my dad in years
he didn’t say he had to work
he did not make it up to me

i am no longer daddy’s girl
i am not waiting to be tucked in
i am not waiting on the couch
i am not waiting for a response

Today arrived with winter’s grace,
A blanket of white, a soft embrace.
The world transformed, so calm, so still,
Yet alive with laughter, the morning's thrill.

My grandchildren, bundled, faces aglow,
Trek their path through the fresh-fallen snow.
Side by side, their footprints trace,
A journey to the yellow bus they face.

I watch them go, their giggles fade,
Through snowy trails their steps are made.
A fleeting moment, yet it lingers near,
A memory etched, so bright, so clear.

Those tiny prints in the snow remind,
Of life’s great treasures, so sweet, so kind.
And as I stand, watching them say goodbye,
I know deep down, I’m one lucky guy.

I know that you see things
As the remix
Or maybe the movie version
That instead of all the good parts getting left out
It's the bad ones
You don't remember any of it
And you caused it
And I remember all of it
It's engraved in my head
I can't pick it off
Like I pick off my skin
I can't ignore it
Like I can't sleep
And I can't pretend it's okay
Like it wasn't abuse
Yes
You didn't beat me
But you still bruised me
And whenever I move
I ache

The words from your letter drip like honey to my evening delight,
You brighten my soul through the beauty of your creativity
And bring colour to my world as the sun runs out of sight,
Pluck your daring heart from the tree of uncertainty,
And scribble with a smile your heat's intent.

Maaaring nagsisinungaling ang mga makata.
Nalilimutan ko na ang tunog ng iyong tawa.
Pinipilit maalala ang iyong tinig sa tuwina.
Tulungan mo akong maalala.
Baka nga sinungaling ang makata.
Inuukit sa isip ang mga salitang binitawan.
Binabaybay sa tula, binubuo sa iyong wika.
Tulungan mo akong gunitain ka.
Baka nga isang krimen ang sumulat ng tula.
Kada letra ay lenggwaheng naglalakbay,
Kada pahina ay anod na di matatangay.
Tulungan mo akong lumutang.
Baka nga kriminal ang maging makata.
Nalulunod sa tinta ng pagkalumbay,
sa ilalim ng alon ng paghihintay.
Tulungan mo akong tumula.

i watched a man lie there
between the end of a fire
and the means to another
red. yellow. green.
strangers watching at the stoplight
it doesn't mean anything

motionless and turning blue
last breaths mean nothing -
when you're living on concrete
"look away, cross the street"
"eyes down, windows up"

cardboard signs
winter coats
shopping carts
broken totes

flashing lights
ticking clocks

i watched a man lie there
and i never got to see him get back up.