Tag Archives: Poem

Prima – A Poem

Prima

She listens to the world move
[beat,
two-three,
beat]
like old people listen to talk radio.
And flutters in her own world,
wild thing,
she programs an image to her brain:

reality

it crashes.

Much like a ballet,
she falls when she fears the music is stopping.
[pressing her cheek against her knee]
Then valiantly she jumps and spins,
[twirling
two, three,
spinning
two, three]

But eventually, all music ends;

fallen on the stage

alone.


If you connected with this poem, the comments section is for you to share your thoughts and/or experiences. I am grateful to anyone that chooses to share – I make that space for you. Thank you for taking the time to read this poem today.

New Poem on Coffee House Writers: “Stolen”

This is an antique book of poetry from Scholastic – if you’re curious what super early Scholastic publications from the 1910s looked like.

My new poem “Stolen” is live on Coffee House Writers.

This one addresses how dementia interacts with emotional processing.

I can’t think of a single person that cares about the past generations that hasn’t been impacted by dementia in some way.

I don’t like writing too much about the meaning or inspiration behind my poems. Honestly, I prefer to leave it open for those that need it to be whatever they need in that moment.

If you have struggled with losing a family member or loved one through the slow process of dementia, I’m sorry. Please feel free to comment your personal experiences openly and freely below – I reserve the comments section for that. While I can never truly know your experience, you’re not alone.

Dealing With The Past – a poem

Dealing With The Past

Others hold against you–
Are hurt by and bring down wrath
Upon your pain –
Childhood never ending
Swirling inside the mind drain;
Decisions of survival
During exploration of the self–
These ghosts will haunt
Until end of time–
Their whispers paranoia sells.
There is no such thing
As kindness or compassion
Not even from the ones we love
We will always be alone
But we will always rise above.


Thank you for taking the time to read my poem today. If you would like to see more poetry, please like, comment on, or share this poem. It helps me know which types of posts my readers like best.

My Mother (Flower Child) – A Poem

On the last day of September, I take a moment to celebrate another year with my amazing mother. I remember this with a song that always reminds me of her birthday, “Try To Remember” by The Sandpipers.

Many years ago I wrote a poem about my mother. Nothing can truly capture how incredible of a human being she is and the life experiences she survived. From those, she carried lessons forward that I still gain from every day.

From being a woman fighting for the Equal Rights Amendment since she was a teenager, starting her career in COBOL and FORTRAN, teaching me the definition of resilience, instilling in me a love of life and learning, and being an amazing human at every turn – she has had a huge impact on the world around her by being herself.

Happy Birthday, Mom!


My Mother

My mother was a commune girl
She waved her olive branch high
She painted pictures of the things
We’ll never see in our little lives

My mother was a loving dove
She nurtured all who found her
She took the world into her arms
With the magic she could conjure

My mother was a flower child
She bathed in fields of daisies
And though she looks so young
Her age says she’s in her sixties


Thank you for taking the time to read this poem and dedication today! If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to like or leave a comment.