"sorts" poems
I am adept
In the art of being okay
I have mastered the craft
Of covering my troubles
I use all sorts of fancy facades
Acrylic, oil, watercolor
You name it.
I can paint over nearly anything
You will never know
How late I was up last night
Or why.
My eyes flicker
Like candlelight
But you couldn’t see
You couldn’t possibly see
I’m too good
For that.
I can dance, too
Waltzing away my sorrows
Carefully tip toe-ing the
Pas-de-I-am-fine
I get a standing ovation every time
I’m very talented, you see.
But my all time favorite
Is my disappearing act
I’m still perfecting it
Right now
But one of these days
I’ll show you
How I
Slip
Slip
Slip
Away
Right through your fingers.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 4:37 PM UTC
Being transgender is like this:
Everyday of your life, you have always wanted a dog.
For as long as you can remember--
even if you don't know to what extent--
you have wanted one.
You asked your parents, Santa, the easter bunny,
even the tooth fairy.
Then one day you get a dead cat for your birthday.
You say "This isn't a dog,"
But "You get what you get and don't get upset"
So you carry around and care for the dead carcass.
All sorts of people look at you,
unable to understand what you are doing.
So then one day you decide to try to make it look a bit nicer.
You wash it a bit, comb what little fur it has left,
cover the decrepit limbs.
But then you realize the futility in doing this all the time,
because you are still carrying around a dead animal.
So you continue to carry it around because you have to,
no matter how horrible it may be.
Although you are carrying around a dead and rotting cat,
you aren't a ******* cat owner;
You still want a ******* dog.
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 6:53 PM UTC
Filter the perfect shade of the forenoon sun,
Not too bright, not too dull.
For with ease and carefree thoughts,
You let the sunbeam-drizzling fairies play
As the beauty reflected in your retinas.
Capture this scenic view:
Where the burnt chestnut colored oaks
And mudstained sweetheart sundress of yours
Dance in three-four beats of waltz.
The Crayola strokes of the skies
And the watercolor streaks of daydreams and nightmares
Paint the canvas of your disquited thoughts.
This is the peripheral view from your suncrashed irises and corners,
This is your world.
Let your knees down to your sore feet
Be engulfed by the chasms of the bewildered grass,
As the smile makes it way to your plump spring lips;
Callused fingers from guitar strings
Twirl and twist the blades,
Cutting through flesh
And green and red and blue and yellow,
All sorts of color came spilling from your playful bruise.
From this panoramic view of yours
Of a wonder wonderland,
Where the ticks of clock
Follow the sunflower throughout time and forever,
This is the beauty of that stem:
A key to escapism
To a well-dreamt lovely world.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 6:30 AM UTC
I hate how the words
"Lesbian," "Gay," "Bisexual," et cetera
Are thought of as bad words.
It's like, oh, no, don't teach your little sister the word lesbian
Don't tell her there are some girls who like other girls
How inappropriate!
It's like, oh, no, don't teach your little brother the word gay
Don't tell him there are some boys who like other boys
How disgusting!
Don't let anyone under the age you deem appropriate know
That there are people who aren't heterosexual
Why?
I can't possibly understand why.
There is no reason for homophobia, not really.
I saw a metaphor somewhere that went something like this:
"I was in Subway, and I bought myself a ham sub. As I was paying, the man behind me bought a different sub than me, and I was immediately offended that he got a different sandwich."
This is what it sounds like when people say homosexual people affect them.
How do they affect you?
Just because they don't love someone who is of the opposite ***
Or just because they like both
Or something else
Just because of their ****** preference, no matter what it may be
You think that gives you reason to hate them? Really?
Just because they're different than the 'normal' you're used to?
Normality is relative.
You can't say it's not "normal."
That is not a justified nor sensical argument.
What is wrong with those people?
Can't they just see past all their biases and realize that we're all people
And we all deserve the same rights no matter who we're attracted to
No matter who we kiss
No matter who we touch
No matter who we have *** with
Is it really that difficult?
**We're all humans when it comes down to it, and we all deserve the same rights.
Everyone should be able to see that.**
And you know what I wonder?
Why are we voting on whether people deserve rights or not in the first place?
And then there's people who act like homosexuality is a disease
People who act like anyone who is anything but heterosexual is broken and needs to be fixed
They're not broken.
They don't need to be fixed.
They are who they are, and the government shouldn't tell them what they can and cannot do
Based simply and only on who they're attracted to.
"You can't get married because you aren't straight."
Do you realize how shallow that is? Do you?
"You're disgusting because you aren't straight."
Why?
Why should it matter to you who they're in a relationship with?
It's their life, their decision.
No one ever asks heterosexual people why they're heterosexual.
No one ever says, "Hey, when did you decide you were straight?"
It's just ridiculous, and I'm fed up of it.
"If gay marriage is legalized, more people will become gay."
Oh, yeah, sure, of course, that will totally happen.
Just like when African Americans were given rights
Everyone decided they wanted to go out and become African American.
Just like when women were given rights
Everyone decided they wanted to go out and become female.
People of all sorts of sexualities and preferences have grown up
With mostly straight media everywhere
It didn't "turn" them straight.
So gay media won't "turn" anyone gay
It won't hurt anyone if there's a gay couple in a commercial.
Or a TV show.
Or any other form of media.
It makes me sick to think that just because of your personal opinion
My friends who are not heterosexual would not be allowed to get married
To the person that they love.
Do you know what will happen if gay marriage is legalized?
Gay people will get married.
Why can't you just understand that it doesn't matter?
Why should you care what they do?
Why should you care who they like?
It doesn't affect you.
It doesn't change you.
It's just giving LGBT people more control over their own lives.
It's just giving LGBT people rights they should have had in the first place.
Why?
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
I’m sick of hearing my life’s a haiku.
I’m into magic, love, and other sorts of things that are typically voodoo.
I’m half ***** from a half assed absent African baby boomer brat.
I’m half white trash.
Here’s a well formed of dried tears turned into something to sooth my canine teeth.
It tastes like Moonshine.
I can’t swim anymore, so I’m here drowning in a concrete pool.
Always, I look for the hell in you.
I sharpen my boot knife for ****** assault protection.
The first swipes for the plus 200,000 in counting.
The seconds for the 66 percent underreported.
The lasts for me,
the 29 percent victims aged 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, and 12.
We have a higher rate of risking everything.
For depression x3.
For committing suicide x4.
For post traumatic stress disorder x6.
For alcohol abuse x13.
For drug abuse x26.
You all think I’m crazy,
I’m not.
I sometimes get called
stupid, ugly, ***** and thot.
I’m in pain, in sorrow.
I can’t help it.
He did it.
No one can undo it.
What do we do about it?
I wont scream, I won't cry.
I’ll ask how he’s doing with glitter and tears in the corner of my eye.
And after he's done molesting me,
"Want to go grab some coffee or tea?"
Personally, I like the cafe down the street.
They sell good brunch with amazing croissants.
And after this is over,
I’d ask him how it was while he turned me over.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:11 PM UTC
On the stiff twig up there
Hunches a wet black rook
Arranging and rearranging its feathers in the rain.
I do not expect a miracle
Or an accident
To set the sight on fire
In my eye, nor seek
Any more in the desultory weather some design,
But let spotted leaves fall as they fall,
Without ceremony, or portent.
Although, I admit, I desire,
Occasionally, some backtalk
From the mute sky, I can't honestly complain:
A certain minor light may still
Lean incandescent
Out of kitchen table or chair
As if a celestial burning took
Possession of the most obtuse objects now and then --
Thus hallowing an interval
Otherwise inconsequent
By bestowing largesse, honor,
One might say love. At any rate, I now walk
Wary (for it could happen
Even in this dull, ruinous landscape); skeptical,
Yet politic; ignorant
Of whatever angel may choose to flare
Suddenly at my elbow. I only know that a rook
Ordering its black feathers can so shine
As to seize my senses, haul
My eyelids up, and grant
A brief respite from fear
Of total neutrality. With luck,
Trekking stubborn through this season
Of fatigue, I shall
Patch together a content
Of sorts. Miracles occur,
If you care to call those spasmodic
Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again,
The long wait for the angel,
For that rare, random descent.
18k
Allah created the universe
With plenty of beauties
And entities
Eid being a marvel
In His creation.
Its a jubilee a jamboree
Islam golden moments.
Laughter smiles joy
Foods delicacies cuisines
Visits greetings hugs
All in this finicky day
Commemorates agitation
In our islamic entity.
Its surely a jubilee.
Eid a cheerful day
Eid be the morning star
The star that shines,
That shines in a shiny
Shining cloud
Dont you admire this?
Dont you?
I suppose it to be a jamboree.
Eid is here
Embracing do not fear
Eid is a pearl
In the shells of oyster
Rise up and liberate
Jump and hail
'Eid Mubarak'
Eid indeed a regal day
All this is ours
Ours for the taking
Ours for the loving
Ours for adorning
Amid our pride and passion
We shall slogan ourselves
'Eid Mubarak'
Eid a sheen,
Deactivate all forms of sins
Attained in all sorts of scenes
Satisfaction let it be seen
I admit that we do all sheen,
Caution we be keen.
A jamboree I incarnate.
Eid an endeavour
Allah put up this favour
Exquisite and dainty forever
This majestic day never shover
Blessings absolutely covers
Its a jubilee a jamboree
Islam sparkling moments.
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 8:31 AM UTC
There used to be a bottle on the wall.
It was very green.
I'm sure it was the loneliest green bottle
that I had ever seen
It used to sit on the wall
all day and all night
And every day, when I looked out of the window,
it was always in my line of sight
Then one day, a cat came along.
Something was going to happen; I could tell
The cat then accidentally nudged it
and off the wall, it fell
When it had fallen off the wall
it had dropped with a very loud sound.
There were all these little pieces of the green bottle
all over the ground
Then the cat yelped
and I knew it had gotten hurt
I could quite obviously see its paws were caked in
blood and dirt
The bottle wasn't harmful in the beginning
it did not look the slightest bit treacherous
but after a nudge in the wrong direction
it became very dangerous
Now I look back at you smiling
next to me on the big armchair
Your fingers running through your soft locks of hair.
You remind me a lot
of that green bottle.
In the beginning, you were harmless
you were all sorts of fun.
Now you hurt me.
Could you tell me why
as I don't quite know what I've done
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 4:34 PM UTC
Way back when I was younger
I was mistaken as a dude
They asked all sorts of questions
That slowly grew more rude
"Why don't you wear makeup?
Or dress in something nice?"
"If you ever want to get a guy
Why won't you just take our advice?"
When I began in high school
I had just begun to change
I had bought myself some cheap makeup
And clothes that just felt strange
Still, it wasn't enough though
The insults continued to come
"Ugly. Lazy. Undesirable"
It all began to make me glum
By the beginning of junior year
I had fully given in
Dresses replaced all of my jeans
And makeup covered all my skin
It was then, the insults changed
And people began to glare
Said I "cared too much about my looks"
And my "head must be full of air"
I still always got straight A's
The way I talked was still the same
But though I knew that they were wrong
Their comments made me feel lame
When senior year had rolled around
I was lonely as could be
People "liked" what I'd become
But I felt no one liked me for me
I'd never been on a single date
Because all the guys were crude
So it was only a small amount of time
Before I was labeled as a *****
When I finally started college
I expected something more
But people took one look at me
And labeled me a *****
I had not been sleeping around
I still hadn't even been on a date
Everyone just made assumptions
And looked at me with hate
The part that was most ironic
Was that after all these years
Of changing to be whatever they said
I was still hated by all my peers
I didn't want to dress like this
I didn't want to just conform
But there is only so much a person can take
Before they need to fit the "norm"
Society is what destroyed me
They are the reason I am this way
I changed to be what people wanted
Now I understand: I'll never see that day
I don't know who I am now
Though everyone else thinks that they do
Now please just take one piece of advice
It's so important to just stay you
You are perfect just as you are
So continue to stay strong
Remember no matter what they tell you
What society says is wrong
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
I was born in a time of veterans and freedom. Or was it killing, like when we left Eden?
I was born in a time, of oceans and salt. Or was it destruction, Atlantis had fought?
I was born in a desert, a place with a lot of hot sand. Cleopatra, Aphrodite, Egypt, all Seeing in the Land.
I was born in a Television, Hollywood starstruck was my name.
Classic, Modern or Hipster, craving fortune and fame.
I was born a telepathic, a mind reader of such. Seeking and giving out energy, requiring you of much.
I am deep, I am wide and I am always by your side. Loyal, Obedient and Giving. Taking, Fantasizing, Living.
I am quite the comic book laughter. I comedian of sorts.
I am quick to judge the living and cover up my warts.
Back to 1960, or was is 70 and 2?
When I was born a Scorpio, and no one ever knew.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
rich with the depth
and intensity
of oxidized blood,
a plushness caresses my bare skin.
my fingers tracing against the grain of the fabric
slowly seducing
as the canvas
becomes duo chrome
the tip of my finger
a nymph
cunning and artful
the strokes
offering an insatiable
thirst
yet so in control
finally it succumbs
turning a tide of new color
permeating from where my touch once was
a culmination of sorts
leaving you enamored.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
There's strange noises round these parts
Tales of zombies too
Haunted cabins, ghostly sights
All sorts of witches brew
We all laugh when we hear stories
Stories that we know aren't true
There's a drink that folks all know
And it ain't called witches brew
There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
moving lights out in the wood
strange visions on the beach
swamp gas, that's what I would say
redneck zombies....that's a reach
tourist folk see things a plenty
they believe all of our tales
like the one about that boy Ahab
going chasing that white whale
There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
if there was such a thing as zombies
wandering round out here
i'd figure it was just my kin folk
after a case or two of beer
zombies like to eat folks brains
and tear them all apart
now to a redneck, that there's work
and rednecks aren't that smart
There ain't no redneck zombies
That I guarantee
To make a redneck zombie
you need the recipe
A shot or two of good old jack
and a shot of grandpa's lightning
that's a redneck zombie son
Drink two and it gets frightening
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 1:37 PM UTC
Our family got the news today
Our bubba's gettin' hitched
Young Daisy Mae, she's near fourteen
Got our boy bewitched
He's sayin' that he loves her
He's making her his bride
She's the first to get him this close
Though not too many tried
We've got to get things ready
Send invitations and make candles
We've got to get the good jars out
The one's that still have handles
The minister is on alert
We've got to make some shine
Grandpa says he'll make some up
But, it will not all be mine
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
This time there'll be no shotgun
Like the last time for old Ben
This time the guns are empty
Not the way they were back then
The banjos will be tuned up
There'll be music in the air
The cops won't try to stop it
I think most will all be there
The ladies will be planning
Just how to serve up all the grub
While Bubba has to find a suit
And therein lies the rub
He's never worn a suit at all
Not even for a day
He's only dressed in coveralls
And that's how he's gonna stay
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
It'll be a **** dang doodle
A hell of a good time
It'll only be completed
When they run out of the shine
there'll be singing and some dancing
Underneath the harvest moon
We can't wait for it to happen
It cannot come too soon
There'll be readings from the bible
Which the minister will read
And as good holy Christians
Everyone will heed
There's sure to be some fighting
Before the couple say "I do"
I mean, they are both cousins
I'm gonna go...aren't you?
Gonna have a wedding, a real old fashioned bash
With all sorts of kissin cousins drinkin from their secret stash
The food will be impressive, there'll be turkey, pig and cow
The family won't get bigger, since we're related anyhow
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
Inventor Sam invented a life
Full of bright and sunny days
With clouds in the sky, peacefully passing on by,
And beautiful birds singing in all sorts of nice ways.
Inventor Sam, with a wave of his little right hand,
Invented mountains that reached up towards the stars
And with a wave and a flick, in an instant, quite quick,
He made rivers and valleys stretched out afar.
Inventor Sam, what a grand little man,
Invented some animals too
He called them Zebras, Giraffes, and Orangutans
Even people like me and like you
Inventor Sam then sat back to enjoy all that he made
But he noticed that something was missing
Not apples, nor reindeer, nor trees and their cool shade
Not eagles, nor bananas, nor snakes and their hissing
Inventor Sam looked closely at the animals that stuck out
Those on two legs, with little hair and one tiny snout,
They walked aimlessly around with no purpose at all
Stiff legged and hollow like fragile china dolls
Inventor Sam then sat up with a smile on his face
For he knew what would be his very last application
With a wave of both arms, and lightning for effect
He made people Inventors with their very own imagination.
-BPW 12/27/2013
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
In the solemn air of the exam hall.
With the weight of the world pressing against its walls.
Students write, scribble and scrawl.
In the solemn air of the exam hall.
In the solemn air of the exam hall
The burden is great with every stroke big or small.
Written on these papers their path in life.
In the solemn air of the exam hall.
In the solemn air of the exam hall.
Diarrhea of all sorts spill onto papers before.
Brain dead they are.
In the solemn air of the exam hall
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
I'm really bad at building relationships and friendships and -ships of all sorts and my ancestors probably helped build Titanic because of how many ships im unable to build and keep a float for more than a little while. I try, I do, but they always flood and sink.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
Sometimes it feels so natural to let a man's hands run over my body, feeling every dip and curve and bump and bruise that exists. It is almost as if his hands and his longing are physical manifestations of my new-found womanly confidence. I have reached a point where I am comfortable in my own skin and ready to celebrate. I want to celebrate like there is no tomorrow and do something a little crazy, a little stupid, live one more breath of this night and one more kiss of this dream. Right now everything just feels so real and raw. To feel a man's touch on a body still so young is nothing to be afraid of - it is something to cherish and hold dear, for it only happens a short while.
Sometimes it feels so natural to wear a short skirt and walk with a sway in my hips, each step with my heeled feet and long legs echo across the floor. There is something in the reverberance that acts as a fire in my soul, the flames within as courage on the outside. The sway of my hips work wonders as tickets to concerts, the pass to the front of the line, filling my empty hand with a full drink. It is a drug of sorts and something that I cannot get enough of. I take what is handed to me for the short while that it is available. Wearing my short skirt and tall shoes, I sway my hips to the beat of a different drummer while I can.
Sometimes it feels so natural to drink to my heart's content and my stomach's contempt. I drink to make the pain and the thoughts and the worries and the stress melt away as my body melts on the dance floor. I become one with the music and one with the night. Carefree and unconcerned I drink until it is dawn. It feels so wonderful to live like there is no tomorrow with no regrets. When I drink I drink to darken the past and brighten the future. The sultry sway of my hips become the sloshing of a boat about to be capsized. The running hands over my body turn into drunk fumbling and clumsy fingers. But I drink while I can and enjoy while I can.
Sometimes it feels so natural to be so bad - defiant and strong and a will to do whatever I choose.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 11:08 PM UTC
Once upon a day or night -- Wait, it was day, there was a light
a light, which shone upon a moonlit drive so dark and drear.
At keeping track, I'm sadly slacking. Forgive my memory, it is lacking
memoirs of this day of days I could not -- would not -- hear.
But now alas, alan, alack, something gruesome did attack, my dear.
Something's ugly head did rear.
Indistinctly, I remember, was it June? July? November?
Moments burn together as I recollect the fear.
And though he knows it gets to me, he will never set it free,
the truth of all the memories I used to hold so dear.
The truth you chose to hide from me for days, turned months, turned year.
But no, I will not shed one tear.
He held my hard heart high in flutter. Stomachs full of bread and butter.
Our love could not be jaded, for he traded tea from beer.
And though we were the oddest pair, I thought by now he would not care
how people chose to say their puns of nuns and hateful jeer.
Of wolves and sheep, of awkward sleep, of hunters hunting deer.
I thought we had our life in gear.
Sadly, though, I was mistaken. Blast, that awful wretch has taken
my whole soul and everything I previously thought mere.
He broke it off, and with a cough confessed, a darkest truth repressed
of everything, how twas a lie, and that the end was near.
And with four words, a looking glass of sorts he handed me to peer.
These the blue-eyed snake hath spoke: "Honey, I'm a queer."
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
Past years reminding me of ancient ideas, wasted hope on young lustful love
which now translates to the tune of reluctant,
senseless adoration as I watch
my first birdie take flight
and spread his wings like a majestic eagle in the sky.
I wave goodbye.
You know I'll always remember
the first summer we spent together.
In the good times, and through all the bad
concern and dim hopes were all we had
but then, she heard wings of all sorts
scattered at her front door flocking
My birdie came knocking
stopped the boat on uneasy waters from rocking.
Opened up his tormented soul for me to see
and asked every graciously "forgive me?"
I pleaded, "but it was I who'd sent you away!"
and it still haunts me to this day
that I hurt my best friend
and thinking of those tainted sheets in which I lay.
But you told me not to worry, not to fret
the past is the past,
so lets start off where we finished last
we were stupid, carefree and naive
we knew no greater truth than hair dye & ****
And simple things,
like paintings, a smile and teddy bears
were all we needed.
But I'm here today to prove
That I will always stay true
To give guidance and support all the way through
Ex-Lover,
Best Friend,
Brother
I love you.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
Behind my old house
once grew a mango tree;
last year they chopped it down
to build a highway, toll free.
It never inspired much awe or poetry
it was like other mango trees,
under which I played since I was three
and was home to some possessive bees.
When strong winds blew
it never bowed,
its branches somehow grew
that is until now.
The ground on which it stood
is now covered with asphalt,
and it will never be understood
as to who was really at fault.
And as for the bees
well, I never did like them,
but then you see
they were here longer than I am.
My neighbors and cousins
with whom I had lots of fun,
seek all sorts of reasons
why now we have none.
I can only say, for what's worth
when the Almighty does an inventory,
He may label planet Earth
"An old cemetery".
Dec 31, 2010
Dec 31, 2010 at 4:24 PM UTC
Perhaps she is one who is not free of guile
But she is one who has such a beautiful smile
And a beautiful smile carries one a long way
It does more for one than words can ever say,
No doubt she's not perfect we all have our flaws
The feline who often purrs is known to use her claws
But a smile from a stranger just in passing by
Can bring to your day a small flutter of joy,
On my cares and worries I did silently brood
As I walked down the street in an out of sorts mood
But a beautiful smile and a warm hello
From a lovely young woman one I did not know
Helped for to bring a little joy to my day
For the best things in life we do not need to pay.
Apr 25, 2010
Apr 25, 2010 at 6:02 PM UTC
Funny the things we recall.
Images that flash through our brain.
Some most vivid for me were of an old man.
Skin like creased parchment paper,
Lined and yellowed with age.
The veins visible just below the surface,
of a thin nearly transparent veneer.
Liver spotted flecks of red,
Charted paths from the toil of many years,
Palms callused forever from a life time of labor.
Big fingers knotted and misshapen,
The two inch tip of one gone missing,
Saw taken, at age sixteen.
Looking at those old hands, one could hardly guess
That still there remained gentleness in their caress.
For an old dog, or a little grandson in need of some
Companionable affection or parental love.
Those aged hands could also make things,
Toy sailboats, and wooden trains,
complete with caboose,
And guard cow catcher.
A cool flute whistle that actually worked,
He said it was like the Indian’s made,
Out Oklahoma way.
And he would know,
He cowboyed there.
His hands taught me to tie my shoes,
Open and close my first pocketknife.
Those same hands could become birds,
rabbits, butterfly's, all sorts of things.
When projected up on the wall,
Silhouetted by a naked back light.
His hands knew magic too,
Pluck silver coins right out of my ears.
His tired face matched his hands,
visual weathered, creased and
wrinkled road maps,
Of 89 years of rugged roads traveled.
Yet, his lively pale green eyes remained
forever fraudulently youthful prisms,
Eyes and spirit of a much younger man within.
But it is his hands most of all I shall remember,
Their imposing look and their reassuring
touches of tenderness.
I shall never forget my grandfather’s hands.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 3:12 PM UTC