Born in the harsh bright lights of a hospital room the first thing she heard was her mothers yelling voice
whisked away to routine and strangers she opened her eyes
a new place
a few days later while her diaper was being changed
again she heard the mother voice
high pitched and needy
hands once again rescued her
a pattern emerged
life was a puzzle
figuring out the fickle needs of the mother voice and adapting to it
going to stay with other mother types on weekends
Becoming adroit at being strong
while wanting/craving a chance to be a little girl
curling up on your bed at night listening to alcohol fueled rants and knowing that your absolute job is to mother your mother
not knowing that tears drip for you in heaven.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
WORDS
I love words
words are the beginning and the end
of my very being
words have saved me when nothing else could
they tingle on my tongue
sizzle deep within my soul
sliding slowly into my brain
they exault my thoughts
they gently
softly affect my world
they change me in a moment
and inspire me for a lifetime
words are the beginning and the end
of my very being
words have saved me when nothing else could
they tingle on my tongue
sizzle deep within my soul
sliding slowly into my brain
they exault my thoughts
they gently
softly affect my world
they change me in a moment
and inspire me for a lifetime
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
HOME
A home is security
Its love
Its smell, its taste and feel
It involves your every sense
yet makes no sense at all
A soft bed after a long day
A song pulling memories from your heart of times passed,
mind pictures flowing thick and fast
Mashed potatoes with lumps
and gravy too!
Brothers and sisters beating each other up,
boring family dinners that will not matter - till you’re grown
Aunt Ethel’s scratchy kiss
Undle Albert’s false teeth
New babies with their funny smell of fresh and new'
backpacks homework and that best football game
Old doilies and new Tupperware
overdue library books...
and puppies.
Funerals with sad relatives
old pictures of people they say are related to you
bubble baths and vitamins
eat your vegetables
clean your plate
and heres a cookie!
Sneaking to read under the covers at night
Grandmas coming, cinnamon rolls baking
a smell to wake up to
Shaking rugs, dusting and clean your room!
chores done in a hurry....
Baseball in the yard with your brother and friends
First day of school
new clothes and old teachers
bad food
good report cards
First date
First car
First love
Broken hearts
Graduation, wedding veils, more faces around the table
Someone once said that you can’t go home again
They obviously didn’t know about the power of a song
smell of chicken frying or the sound of children playing
Home is inside of us
we carry it wherever we go
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Its love
Its smell, its taste and feel
It involves your every sense
yet makes no sense at all
A soft bed after a long day
A song pulling memories from your heart of times passed,
mind pictures flowing thick and fast
Mashed potatoes with lumps
and gravy too!
Brothers and sisters beating each other up,
boring family dinners that will not matter - till you’re grown
Aunt Ethel’s scratchy kiss
Undle Albert’s false teeth
New babies with their funny smell of fresh and new'
backpacks homework and that best football game
Old doilies and new Tupperware
overdue library books...
and puppies.
Funerals with sad relatives
old pictures of people they say are related to you
bubble baths and vitamins
eat your vegetables
clean your plate
and heres a cookie!
Sneaking to read under the covers at night
Grandmas coming, cinnamon rolls baking
a smell to wake up to
Shaking rugs, dusting and clean your room!
chores done in a hurry....
Baseball in the yard with your brother and friends
First day of school
new clothes and old teachers
bad food
good report cards
First date
First car
First love
Broken hearts
Graduation, wedding veils, more faces around the table
Someone once said that you can’t go home again
They obviously didn’t know about the power of a song
smell of chicken frying or the sound of children playing
Home is inside of us
we carry it wherever we go
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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