A monster came out from under my bed,
all hairy and ugly and oh so red.
He ran to my closet and ate all my clothes
then back to my bed he was tickling my toes.
I was so afraid he might suddenly eat me,
There was nowhere to go where he couldn’t see.
He threw all my toys in a great big sack
And told me meanly they’d never be back.
Then he looked at my desk and suddenly smiled
And seemed to be happy or maybe beguiled.
He looked in my eyes and pointed at me,
“give me your laptop and I will let you be”
I loved my laptop a gift from my mom
I stared in his eyes feeling so dumb.
I was no longer scared now I was mad,
Monsters aren’t fun when they behave so bad.
So I took out my bat and put on my new shoes
and said to the monster, “guess what you lose”.
One swat on the noggin and he was out cold
I keep my toys because I was bold.
It pays to be brave and never have fear
But be careful at night when a monster is near.

HAPPY LATE HALLOWEEN
to my Grandaughters
Copyright Jan/2014
WHC

Sitting in the waiting room
I see the people kneel.
From their knees they pray
for sins they have concealed.
Their brothers and sisters,
and mothers and fathers,
and daughters and sons,
grandsons and grandaughters,
grandparents too
and they look with their
puppy dog eyes
right at you.

Sitting in the waiting room
I see the people squeam
when bad news bursts from
doctors mouths. “This is only
a dream,” they say,
Vocalizing how their hearts
have burst and will
keep
sinking
and
sinking
and
sinking
until
the
day
they
die.

Sitting in the waiting room
I realize that I do not care.
For the dozens of people
in here, or the patients in there.
For the brothers and sisters,
and mothers and fathers,
and daughters and sons,
grandsons and grandaughters,
grandparents either.
I can’t help but be here,
only for you.
Only
for
you
and
me.

If I could draw it -
but I was never an artist.
What a picture that would be -
my family.

And maybe if I could trace the lines
I could better understand
how I came to be--me.

But I can't separate the smells
and sounds
and touch of it,
pencils can only go so far.

And there are the scenes
that I can only imagine.
The ones that happened
decades before me.
I see my grandpa's smiling face.
I don't remember him
as a brawling drunk
terrorizing his family
after world war II.

Granny smelled like powder
and liked men
though she would never admit it.
She talked a lot
but I don't remember ever
hearing any thing worthwhile.

The one I can't name.
He hurt me in the dark.

Mom Glass, the bootlegger,
who took her grandaughters
on Sunday trips up the mountain
to buy moonshine.
She wore red underdrawers
and she didn't care who knew.

Mammaw, who gave me words.
Who didn't know I was a refugee
but always welcomed me warmly.
She taught me the beauty
of being earthy.
No prim or proper uppity
girls fishin in the creek.
That one brought tears.
I miss her smile.

There are so many faces.

Voices.

Memories.

All contributed something
to the poem
I haven't written yet.

the slow encroach
stinging so, it broke the choke
and rough, coarse femininity once kept in check with wine and herbs
now slips away, and hurts.

Recalling is like
dreams of forests heaving milk and music,
an ancient memory whose dew pools in your mouth with distaste
and tulip'd sap leaks at sordid urge.
what we want is still at sea, so let the spray bite your face
taste the past in those ever-watching waters
and burn hair on the pyres for your grandaughters, and grandaughters' daughters.

I trek in the journey of my life, travelling in the highway of someone else’s life
I see their history crashing into mine.
I see people. Mother, daughter and grandaughters.
The grandaughter’s gestures is like
poetry reflecting in the mother’s eyes.
Soon her random and improbable words make history in the woman’s life.
Does she know enough to say this?
“Say it! Say it darling!”
I hear the woman speaking.
The improbable is more improbable than fate.
Their languages are wildly different
But their passion to each other turns everything different into similar ways.
I turn back. Back to my own highway..
Knowing that I profit from someone else’s travel.

To devote my life
to my son
To gaurantee
he will get
A COLLEGE DEGREE
and end this
Lifetime of pain
So for
future generations
to come
Possible future
Grandaughters
and
Grandsons
You will not suffer
at the hands
Of the ones
that love you the most
Because i decided
your Dad was the man
for the job
Because i decided
to choose love
Because the pain
I was dealt
Hurt me enough
to not give up
But to gaurantee
my loved ones
Will never
have to measure
to the pain
I WAS DEALT
THE PAIN I FELT
I WANT CONSTANT CHANGE
IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION
TO BREAK THE CHAINS
OF THIS LIFE' S DEVIL
TO GIVE MY FAMILY
A FIGHTING CHANCE
let me live that long
let me sing that song
Let me achieve that goal
Let me save my future
SOULS
Forget my plans
forget me as a man
But please let me gain
A life without strain
A life with future brains
of being PURE

Beautiful Grandaughters

You are to me,
The sun that shines!
The stars that twinkle !
Everything beautiful and much more,
I love you all dearly,
Even when you get up so early!
You’re so much fun,
You both swim like fishes,
When we have fun in the pool,
Your drawings and art,
Go straight to my heart,
And when you play hide and seek,
It’s fun to watch you
Now don’t you peek!
You are my little wishes,
Because you’re so cool!