Janette Richie
didn’t like you much  
as was shown

that time
in Mr Finn’s class
when she slapped

your face
for something you’d said
leaving you

with a spinning head
and a red cheek
but that aside

and her rather
plump frame
and maybe spectacles

you kind of like
her motherliness
the bossiness

around the class
the way she walked
the wiggly ***

but whatever it was
you’d said to her
to invite the slap

it was just a string
of words carrying
no malice or meaning

to hurt and the sensation
of her hand of flesh
touching your

young boy’s cheek
a nearness
she hadn’t thought on

or given any deeper
probe than the desire
to swipe an annoying boy

not realizing
that the gesture
and the plump hand

landing had more
than a momentary
feel or touch

you there after kind of
liked her in your
secret way

never repeating
the words said
about her plumpish

frame or swaying ***
or the spectacles
of thick glass

and maybe the other
boys laughed
and thought it some

joke of misjudgement
on your part  
but you found

a secret place for her
in your nine year old
heart.

How fast your little hand turned into one with a ring,
Your lipstick is as refined as your beauty within.
You glow with a happiness from your heart through your eyes and it should come as no surprise...

The fairy tales that we read when you were so young,
certainly pale in comparison;
To the story your family lives today,
You still date the man who whisked you away.

Two boys later and no less the smile,
The stories you read them while they are a child;
Will tell of a time happy ever after
Where they become the king of their own castle.

While the castle you live in seems too far away...in my heart you will always stay!
~Janette Arencibia

At attention, donning medals in a neat uniform,
Filed in from left to right in the calm before the storm.
Her child looks up and out from the crowd
On a lap that is not her mother's own,
She has an idea that once again, her Mama will be leaving home.

Her eyes are bright and watch the sight she's seen several times before,
It is the usual circumstance that more than one
Sea bag is at the door.

The Child sees what most do not
Her Mama dons the cloth;
The child has no choice of sacrifice,
She knows this decision not.

Years pass and there are thirteen candles
glowing all in a row,
Her mother is there at another "somewhere" and her heart breaks because she misses her so.

Weekly calls and letters are the journal on which they rely
Her Mother, though brave is with a heavy heart
and during quiet Watches she cries.

The child sees what most do not
Her mother dons the cloth;
All she knows is that she is away
And has to deploy a lot.

What the child feels is a Mother's heart
She knows is breaking too;
But both know there is a sacrifice
and accept their freedom in lieu.

More time passes, reports and grades;
New teachers, speeches and cheer.
She grew so fast and the time did pass.
Just look at her right here.

What you may not know
What you may now see
Is the brave heart she's had to bare
while her mother is gone she carries on
The real hero is standing there.

The unseen sees what most do not
She goes about her way
She deserves the ribbons and medals
On this her special day.\/~ Janette Arencibia

My right hand is raised across my brow,
As I look across the Sea and leave again now.
Our time seems short but just long enough,
To foster friendships that make leaving tough.

For I know that my promise to serve is strong,
And that I must go now and carry on,
Instead of a crowd of many in mind,
I remember each person with which I spent time.

I see each face and within their eyes...their heart,
That makes where I'm headed another fresh start...
To be the grandeur and privileged to serve those I leave behind
An important part of my own heart and mind.

For this country was founded on the few and the brave,
But we shall not forget that we are one in the same.
So I salute each and every one of you
And dedicate my service as I bid ado

I am forever changed by you!~Janette Arencibia

Jane sips her Joe
With the morning glow
Early in the hour;
Says Jane to her beau,
I must now go and jump in the shower.

She stands behind him
Hovering near so the steam from his cup wets her kiss;
But since her passing, he sits alone,
And her passionate kiss he does miss.
So he dons an old ball cap
and his eye-patch that's black to cover wounds that may be seen;
He goes to the Beaus who know him best,
At the coffee shop down the street.

He sits there daily with others he knows,
Who have come from the same walks of life;
And share in the misery, joy and strife
of those they have lost in life.
~Janette Arencibia

If by way of sea, a foxhole or submarine
Whether contested, embedded or a small squad of three;
Your Service to our great nation is owed a debt of gratitude,
For your bravery and fortitude.

Be it on a foothill, jungle or ship's grey haul,
Behind a berm, around the corner of the enemy's wall;
Your brave rescue and recovery,
Will always and forever be.

The fright of the enemy's indignation,
The bond that binds every coalition,
which preserves the freedom of this great nation.

And so it is that we carry on,
We will continue fighting strong;
For those who will and won't come home,
For those who feel they are long gone.

Raising our hands we continue to salute
The Stars and Stripes in Resolute! ~Janette Arencibia