aren't I pretty as can be
my hair my teeth my face,
a smile sent from me is
good as an embrace!

my eyes are like pools
of stars in moonlight.
my voice is like a bell
ringing out through the night.

aren't I just the loveliest one
my body curvy and graceful,
I accentuate with clothing
I'm said to be most tasteful.

talk about my mouth which
is busy most of the time.
even if you don't,
at least I think I'm sublime!

In this life, we are the same
Drifters floating in an ocean
Weaving between fate
Like its currents, riptides.

I hear a beating in my heart.
Looking into the abyss
Of solid cerulean, you are not
the person you once were.

It was in the day we found peace,
And the nights we painted blue,
With the sadness of rain drops.
Faith can be swallowed whole, I know.

My friend- we are the whales,
The coral, the fish, and the storms,
We became the tsunamis
That tore the world in two.

Phantoms pass through my mind
talking loudly, and waving
as though I know them
Making sense of them impossible
though I try

I'm reminded of words out of context
"What light through yonder window breaks?"
and "Who goes there?"
Sights and sounds without feeling

Just let me be...
I'm sleeping in today

She writes such beautiful poetry
as she lies there in that bed
She can write a wonderful story
all the words kept in her head

Her body left to do those things
that she has to do
Her mind cries out, a song it sings
beautiful poems for you

Words of wonder, things that shine
no thought of what she does
Never once, does she lose her mind
it's all for the greater cause

The smiling face of her little boy
she sees it clearly now
It brings to her such a joy
and the memory of her vow

The drum will not cease;
the dread does increase.
A palpable state so familiar.

The thrum and the drone
(under ribs; collarbone)
replaces my breath. Faith a cinder.

Little sips to keep afloat
Life is lodged in my throat
My body demands resolution.

In my bunker, still not safe.
Threats are not in real space.
Siren songs start to offer oblivion.

We had our little cliques and routines
A dozen or so of us
We had those of us that walked to school
and some that took the bus

We were all growing up in those days
Mostly of different persuasions
We could see beneath the skin
To the heart pumping blood to our abrasions

We were of white and black and brown
We fought and had our spats
But we always made up, shaking hands
Wearing our team's baseball hats

Sometimes, I pick up the phone
and then it hits me
you won't be there on the other end
I'm tempted to dial anyway

Maybe I'll hear your message and your voice
But Paulette told me she turned it off
she can't bear to hear it ring
So, I'll have to keep your voice in my memory

Many people call themselves "Brother"
but they do it because it's cool
"Brother from another mother"
We never had to say that

For hours and hours I sit
Beside the lamp dimly lit
Staring at a blank page
a poem prompt and my pen
In the spot I call my writers den

Nothing happens
Writers block
I reach for a bottle
And have a drop

Imagination oiled
Stagnation foiled
On I toiled
Thoughts start forming in my head
Where I feared was only lead
Dropping, raining from my imagination
Little by little
to majestic poetic creation.

Run down, as tired as all hell,
racing mind slowing
like the fading of a bell,
It always used to be

a recharge needed on my part;
but a spinning pump
deep implanted in my heart,
that now can only be

run by electricity
in new days of health
Now reminds insistently
With constant beep to me

From a pocket sized control
that my batteries
can’t keep powering my soul
And I had better run

Here he is the boyfriend, husband
Being the buffoon
Mommy, girlfriend or fiancee
Tells him sing this tune

Meekly, he complies; "Yes Dear
How do you want it sung?"
Do it this way darlin'
She has his bell, it's rung

If I were the commercial producer
She would stick to a floral smell
Hands out for my deoderant
I'd tell her go to Hell!

How did Father get to be an idiot?
Mom's got to have her way
Choose the way for the man to do it
Huh, that should be the day!