Category: Poetry

Life Lessons

despite

my circumstances

growing up

i did not dwell

or feel sorry

for myself

it’s almost like

i chose to live

an inward life

or maybe i didn’t choose

maybe it was just a natural instinct

i don’t know

i just remember

always looking at the bright side

of dark things

whether it was in people

or in circumstances

or in situations

when you’re young

i think you’re more resilient

in a way that is different

from an adult

during the pandemic

as a grown adult

I actually felt

sorry for myself

which was not me

not my nature

but all of a sudden

I could feel this hatred

radiating from strangers

wherever I went

wherever I’d go

it got to the point

where I did not want to leave the house

not from fear of getting sick

but from what people thought of me

at a glance

this is when I first met Amazon

and had groceries delivered to my door

I’d lie awake in tears

hiding my pain

it hurt so much

it still does

but knowing what to expect

helps

the first few times

I was unprepared for the pain

it is better to know

what you’re dealing with

from the get-go

I thought I was stronger

than that

had been through enough

stuff

but to walk through a parking lot

and into a grocery store

any store

and be openly hated

and avoided

and blamed

for being Asian in America

was something I had never fully felt

before

the hate was hidden before

but no more

I’ve always known that if there was a war

between the US and an Asian country

what to expect

but the pandemic

caught me off-guard

hatred is a learned thing

from generation to generation

but so is love

TL

Wallpaper

the pattern

on the wall

is cracked

and peeled

remember when

it was

a simple sample

shot

in a book

with too many squares

but an eye

of discern

a glimpse of

possibility

that could dress

a room

cradle a crib

light a kitchen

run down the hall

open and close the door

rest and wake

wake and rest

make a mistake

maybe a zillion

and one

but we never did

did we

pick a pattern

‘cause someone preferred paint

the other paper

white walls stood

instead

in every room

without a word

letting the paintings

speak

for an artist

still in stages

who started out

in print

small prints

cracked

and peeled

and full of color

a mixture of paint

and paper

TL

Allie Sherlock

her voice

lifts

off the street

through the cables

and the dark night

into the vastness

of the open net

and finds me

where I sit

on a Saturday

morning

in the South

unaware

she even exists

until I hear the strings

of her guitar

and her voice through the mic

belting out

one of my most favorite

songs

Hallelujah …“I heard there was

a secret chord …”

not anyone can sing

this song

the only rendition was Buckley

and he’s dead

this girl’s from Dublin, Ireland

and can sing the notes outta

this song

and I’m sitting there

wondering why

WHY

hasn’t this girl

already made it

to the concert stage

why isn’t she

on tour

around the world

doesn’t make sense

and she writes her own

stuff

full of aching

and yearning

and need

the music won’t

let her be

she will sing

no matter

where

whether on the street

or in the car

the shower

the rain

in the cold

the heat

a true artist

must create

what’s inside

it is in their very being

to leave something

dear

and beautiful

and real

behind …

just knowing she is out there

in the world

somewhere singing

and writing

and creating

strumming her guitar

or dancing over the keys

with her pen

and her paper

grammy or no grammy

making music

and gifting it

to the world

… is every reason

why …

(heard her voice for the first time

this morning, Sept. 23, 2023, what a gift)

TL

Through the Lens

a halo

in your eyes

it’s hard to say

good

bye

but that’s what

people do

don’t they

they say

i love you, too

and always will

and then they leave

you

where they found you

and you no longer

reach for fortune cookies

‘cause the message’s

never true

and all the dandelions

can keep their hair

from blowing in the wind

and all the candles

on the cake

can keep on burning

down the wick

and all the songs

can keep on singing

drowning on

and on

is it Fall already

no one can tell you

what life is like

only the dead know

what life is really like

at least that’s what they say

from

far

far

away

looking through a clear

unclouded lens

i dreamed last night

or was it

the night before

it was like a painting

in the sky

changing shape

like the clouds

i’m better now

not as angry

anymore

still angry

just not as angry

anymore

looking through the scope

and seeing what no one saw

and i cry for her

‘cause she was golden good

i watch what happened to her

and want to warn her

protect her

but i can’t

so i close my eyes

and go to her

in my time machine

and open the door

and pick her up

and carry her out

and put her

in a better

place in time

where she can

grow up safe

and unafraid

the clouds are on the move

the sun is on the rise

the rain has washed away

what was

a blade of grass

is never cut the same

way

like how a heart

breaks and bleeds

TL

Tiny Turtle

this morning

before coffee

I wiped the counter

top

in the loo

and wiped the turtle off

too

he went sailing

through the air

and bounced

so hard

against the tile

his glass head

went one way

and his body

went the other

picked up the pieces

and examined the shell

and thought

well

now he’s just hiding

inside

like turtles do

from time

to time

TL

Remembering

the grief

of a country

in the collective loss

of its people

on a day

that will live on

within US all

is a continuum

of life

and how we live it

by staying true

to the belief

that a country

is only as great

as its people

no matter what

befalls a nation

it is the human

aspect

of resilience

that makes a difference

and can be traced back

to childhood

when a baby

goes from rolling over

to crawling

to pulling up

to standing

to then taking

that first step

only to fall down

but gets back up

and tries again

determined to walk

without falling

and before long

those steady steps

lift off the floor

and all you see

is a streak

and all you hear

is laughter

it is the human spirit

that connects US

all

TL

Kuleana

the wind

wept

its tears

that fell

to ash

burning the salt

out of the sea

hard to breathe

above

all belongings

have receded

the memory

lingers

like the leaves

it is hard to grieve

what was

and begin again

but these things

are in the wind

in the land

and in the sea

the blue above

the green below

the sunlight

and the rain

the close of day

when the night

is hard

and the mind is still

tears burn back

the day

it is the way

the heart feels

what it felt

before

and after

TL

“Be like water …”

“The idea

of being like water

is to attempt

to embody

the qualities

of fluidity

and naturalness

in one’s life.

Water can adjust

its shape

to any container,

it can be soft

or strong,

it is simply

and naturally

always itself,

and it finds

a way

to keep moving

and flowing.” 

– Shannon Lee, from her book “Be Water, My Friend,”

honoring her father’s legacy 

She Loved Barbie

i don’t know

but

this whole Barbie

thing

has brought back

unexpected emotion

and i haven’t even

seen the movie

yet

there are so many layers

to it

I can see it all

now

looking back …

books and Barbie

were an escape

from reality

too much to process

day-to-day

my reality wasn’t pretty

there were things

happening

that i never talked about

to anyone

it was not an easy

go

for a kid

who felt so much

and held it in

i’d just pretend

everything was ok

i’d just smile

and go about my way

staying positive

despite it all

only as an adult

have I been able

to process

my past

I’m grateful

i had my books

and my Barbies

and my unwavering faith

that it would be ok

somehow

some way

it would be ok

and I wouldn’t have to pretend

it was

it would just be ok

for real

TL

The Magic of Movies

empty theatres

blank marquees

locked doors

no lights

no lines

no popcorn

no candy

no drinks

no tickets

no anticipation

no animation

no action

no drama

no comedy

no love story

no nothing

nada

but in the Summer of 2023

Barbie

brought it all

back

TL

Barbie

when i was

a little girl

i escaped

to a perfect place

far from monsters

my inner child knew

there was a world

waiting …

where life could be

whatever you wanted it

to be …

TL

The Table

it was

wonderfully long

like Alice

in Wonderland

and this time

the seats were filled

with real bodies

not pandemic poster

cut-outs

of characters

reminiscent of

that “Unbirthday”

in 2020

and as I sat there

happy

that seats were

finally filled

there was no escaping

the unspoken sadness

of empty seats …

we missed you

Papa

we missed you

Uncle Steve

we missed you

Papa T

we missed you

Uncle Jeff

we missed you

Granny E

we missed you

Reba

we missed you

Joe

yeah, but you

already know

the grief of grieving

is slow

and lasts

the length of life

for those

still sitting

in their seats

singing Happy Birthday

to beloved Granny

and my baby

Boo

TL

Wild Rose

roses

for as far

as the eye

can see

they grow

in places

remote

as such

off the path

or down the barrel

in seasons

dew and dust

where no tourists

claim to touch

for there’s palatial plenty

as such

cultivated and temperate

in hot houses

they bloom

on time

already pressed

kissed for the occasion

their fate sealed in the seed

the bouquet of the day

whether it be

a promise

a note

a sonnet

a vow

an apology

or a parting

of ways

the bygone day

roses seem to say

what we couldn’t say

their petals float

in backyard puddles

and Parisian canals

they serve as confetti

in the air

and condolence

on the ground

symbolizing something

quite dear

strength and beauty

hard pressed

between the pages

of joy and pain

but the wild ones

grow

for neither

pain nor joy

they bloom

without want

of plan

or need

of purpose

they dress no table

no gown

no coffin

no door

no knee

no aisle

no holiday

no parade

no prom

no ballet

no some

thing

to say

they just are

as they are

without expectation

or explanation

worry or want

there is no

pre-paid order

backlogs

or quotas to fill

no gardens to gaze

or nurseries to tend

or castles to vase

or derby to race

or manicured lawns

or runways in Milan

a wild rose

grows

as it is

for no particular reason

on no particular day

of the week

or the month

or the year

or the season

it just is

as it were

as it was

as it will

be

it just is

TL

Freedom

there are graves

buried at sea

long ago

there are graves

buried in the sky

where sparks fly

there are graves

buried in lands

where the blood runs

deep

there are graves

nobody sees

or ever finds

there are graves

in lines

way too many lines

over time

where do they end

there are graves

inside and outside

this country

marked by

an American Flag

waving in the wind

visible

or invisible

one does not

have to see it

to feel it

TL

Anna Mae

she left

her laughter

not her tears

TL

“Middle Distance”

in a room

of books

just off the side

walk

on a Sunday

sometime before

like an afterthought

they had picked up

all the Poetry

they had

and shoved it

to the back

far corner

wedged between

a rack of magnets

within the realm

of children’s books

near the barista

that talks

and the cashier

that talks

and the parents

that talk

there was jest

enough room

to stand

and reach

and it was there

in the middle of my life

that I first met

Stanley Plumly

TL

Temporary

it was

periwinkle

in color

appearing

like a blue day

I watched it

flicker

like a flame

and even then

I knew

TL

Easter Bunny

I name him

Jack

he appears

on the lawn

before the lights

come on

in the house

I never see

which direction

he comes from

he’s already there

and been there

a while

I watch him

out the window

as he munches

clover

it rained last night

so he has more on his table

he eats fast

he knows there’s a cat

that’ll be up soon

prowling about

he saw what he did

to the chipmunk

last week

and it wasn’t pretty

he eats faster

grab-and-go

is his motto

at least that little girl

ain’t chasing him

down

wonder where she went

he ain’t taking no chances

she used to sneak up on him

and try to catch him good

while his head was down

but the Robin

on the line

always warned him

before she got too close

his white tail

flashing

like a taillight

in the distance

he could hear her hollering

Come Back !

TL

Above the Ground

the Christmas tree

is brittle brown

weighted in the rain

it lies there

dead

surrounded by a forest

in spring

five months ago

it was green

standing giant in the room

bare and beautiful

before the jewels

or crown

it was stunning

in its natural form

rooted in the ground

growing in its branches

lifting in layers

sturdy and strong

the wind within

rushing through

and out

dispersing drops

like twinkle lights

amid the tinsel of snow

and glittered frost

an ornament

in its hair

cardinal red

quietly resting

there

TL

Air Jordan

in 1 hour

and 52 minutes

the stars aligned

creating movie magic

in theatres across the country

where you forget where you are

and you let the story

take you back

in time

hitting the pavement

and knocking on doors

and losing sleep

and never wavering

from belief

the belief  that one day

someday

a mother’s dreams

for her child

would be realized

worldwide

and she’d watch him

fly

as effortless as an Eagle

across the sky

TL