Eminem’s Jade
she is
the best
thing
that ever
happened
to him
she helped
heal him
just by her being
just to be here
in this moment
in time
amid the roses
and the melody
they’ll dance
the daddy-daughter
dance
TL
Poetry
Eminem’s Jade
she is
the best
thing
that ever
happened
to him
she helped
heal him
just by her being
just to be here
in this moment
in time
amid the roses
and the melody
they’ll dance
the daddy-daughter
dance
TL
i know …
what it’s like
to be home
less
over and over and over
again
i know
what it’s like
to be hungry
over and over and over
again
i know
what it’s like
to be afraid
over and over and over
again
i know
what it’s like
to be burned
over and over and over
again
i know
i’m not a l o n e
people survive
their circumstances
or they don’t
they go on
or they go
away
what could be
worse
than suicide
to think there’s
nothing
to live for
no more
too many
have left
not strong
enough
to face
the night
or the day
but what’s worse
than that
is taking
not only your life
but the life of
others
innocent others
who never stood
a chance
they walk in
with guns blazing
with the intent to kill
not only themselves
but anyone and everyone
in sight
they hole up in their
houses
with the intent to kill
not only themselves
but their spouse
their very children
anybody in the house
they get behind the wheel
with the intent to kill
not only themselves
but whoever’s in the car
with ‘em
they take the pills and drink the poison
with the intent to kill
not only themselves
but whoever’s around ‘em
they offer it up or force it down
they walk around free
and clear
getting away
with murder
with rape
with the intent to harm
another
physically
mentally
emotionally
but a body’s soul
belongs to but
no one
the soul cannot
be killed
this
i know
TL
Behind the Curtain
Roberta Flack
still plays
on her green piano
“Will You Still Love Me
Tomorrow …”
her undeniable voice
echoes through time
and space
like the mist
over water
leaving its veil
“The First Time
Ever I Saw
Your Face …”
TL
The Wind
it once was
a beautiful
vessel
carefully crafted
in glass
fired by breath
in ember
it would hold
a waterfall
where a white rose
still enclosed
would sip
there was no warning
when the storm hit
the wind so full of force
knocked the vase
to the floor
where it shattered
into stars
marking the night
the waterfall
crept away
in waves
leaving the stem
unformed
the rose had lost
the sun
and the moon
and all the stars
all at once
the storm had
dug into the dirt
and made a hole
and covered it
up
‘til there was no trace
no scent
nothing
so much of nothing
even the rose
herself
forgot …
so she slept
beneath the dirt
as the seasons
came and went
not knowing
that even in the dark
she was still alive
still forming
there was no warning
when the storm hit
the wind so full of force
dug into the dirt
down deep into the dark
and lifted the rose
up
and they danced
away
far away
from the forgotten place
where time had stopped
ticking
the wind laid the rose
in a garden
and wept over her
‘til she adjusted
to the light
the rose had changed
now fully formed
it had been growing
in layers
in the darkness of nothing
and that night
the earth moved
and time resumed its
ticking
the rose saw the stars
shattered in the night sky
so far away
from where she was
and it was like seeing them
for the first time
and the moon
appeared
with its full face
shining
like a ray on the rose
and after long reflection
she saw herself
again
remembering how roses
bloom
and in that moment
there in the garden
in the season of the sun
she knew no
death
TL
“Love, Pamela”
she’s a Fighter
she’s a Dreamer
she’s a Mother
she’s a Child
she’s a Lion
a Lioness
that won’t be
ever be
tamed
TL
Serendipity
Saturday
morning
was back
in town
the one I didn’t
grow up in
but grew up in
driving the interstate
from exit to exit
in the pouring rain
seeing my stories
for the first time
on the front page
of a newspaper
that somebody somewhere
would read
with their cup of coffee
right away the lady editor
sent me out the door
with directions to a house
in some neighborhood
I’d never been before
where a painter lived
a painter of roses
back then I couldn’t afford
her exquisite works of art
but her perfect petals
graced the front page
in color
and I’ll never forget it
and how I hoped
she would like the story
she called
and I felt like
I had won something
you can’t buy
I hadn’t been back in town
since 2003
after the internship ended
20 years ago
and as I was leaving town
floats went by
and as I sat there watching
this small town parade
go by
I smiled and thought
how much this would have touched
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
that a small town in Georgia
would never forget
TL
“You Gave Me A Mountain”
there’s not
a song
he could sing
to her
not a single note
could soothe
her
no melodic melody
or soft lullaby
could lift this
hurt
off her chest
she will live with it
the weight of it
for all of her days
and nights
the silent suffering
of going on …
knowing she will never
ever see
or hold
or kiss
her precious baby
again
not in this life
but the feeling
remains
the longing of it
never leaves
this is the part
of love
that you learn
after the leaving
takes hold
no matter what they say
there’s no such thing as
letting go
(For Priscilla Presley)
TL
In the Book
I stare
at a blank
page
‘til it blurs
and burns
waiting
for the feeling
to fade
but it just stays
in the creases
quiet in the silence
dark in the corner
touched in the dust
that’s always there
like a shadow on the wall
that appears
and disappears
moving like the seasons
like a memory in the mind
too much at once
then not enough
not nearly
why can’t I find
closure
maybe there’s no such thing
maybe it’s on the faces
of us all
hidden behind the Hi
unnoticed in the Bye
TL
Michelle Yeoh
in different
time zones
across the globe
in different phases
of life
tears fell
from a deep well
of sorrow
that it took
this long
TL
Fit at 50
lost between
sets
and breath
I lie there
on a dirty floor
suspended in straps
thinking
is it so much to ask
to see
my abs
I mean really
I haven’t seen ‘em
in a decade
it’s like they’re buried
behind a plush pillow
one of those plushies
I keep in my car
but I’m determined
to see ‘em
once more
it’s not like I haven’t been
working out
all these years
it’s jest not as easy
to remove the plushie
anymore
ask any woman
after midlife
on the brink
of menopause
what it’s like
to eat right and exercise
and still feel
the pudge protrude
and as you pat the plushie
wishing it would jest fall off
already
your 16-year-old daughter
breezes by
after 3 weeks in the gym
all excited like
look mom !
look at my abs …
do you see ‘em
yep
yep
yep
I see ‘em dear
you better appreciate it now
‘cause once you’re my age …
but she doesn’t hear
‘cause she’s
floating on air
as I lie there
on a dirty floor
suspended in straps
lost between
sets
and breath
thinking …
TL
Chip Away
eating
and
exercise
is ever
intwined
like
hoarding
and
purging
the more you
consume
over time
the harder it is
to manage
the weight of it
ALL
but whatever was
brought in
can be
taken back
out
piece by piece
over time
TL
Plop
the little boy
loved fishing
the cranking sound
of reeling
the process of finding bait
and sticking it
on the hook
then raring back
like a roping cowboy
and hearing the plop
hit the water
then slow-like
bringing the line
back
he always knew
when he had a bite
his heart would race
in his little chest
and he just knew
he just knew
it’d be …
but it was jest
a shoe
somebody lost
long ago
and it stunk
too
he made a face
and unhooked it
and checked his bait
saw that it was still
good
then roped back
and flung forward
in a different
direction
and felt the line
pull
and his heart
race
TL
“And I Will Always Love You”
the Whitney
of my youth
is on the big screen
in the winter
of 2022
TL
the act
of reading
a page
to its bitter-
sweet
end
is a sort
of journey
one takes
within
long or short
there is movement
however slight
one becomes
what one becomes
a traveler …
I love this
there is something
otherworldly
about it
to hold a book
tangible
in one’s hands
and open it up
to a page
and silently read
its written words
absorbing its inner
thoughts
and images
the feeling
of it all
of what it has to say
to convey
interpreted in a myriad of ways
and how
one wrote it
in the solitude of the mind
in ancient times
or present day
yesterday or tomorrow
a writer’s work
remains
within the reader
it is a way
of connecting the past
to the present
and the present
to the past
and back again
into the future
unknown
it is a time-honored-way
of imagining
of creating
of learning
of teaching
of searching
of thinking
of finding
of exploring
the meaning
reading should be
ever as it was intended
a pleasure
a simple pleasure
you make the time
for
in the maze of the day
or the blocks of the night
at any age
at any time
anywhere
it’s there
waiting for your return
I love to read
in my car
it’s quiet there
a room within itself
full of natural light
and dots of rain
and stacks of books
nibbled
or half-bitten
fully digested
it’s where i go
to feel most
like myself
TL
When in Winter
in the pool
of reflection
i saw so many
things
there were parts
forgotten
and parts apart
from forgotten
in a frozen block
in centuries such
as this
where the sun
is a shadow
but under a grove
of turning trees
the water runs
continuously
and life teems
beneath
its eternal spring
where the wild
come to drink
i feel the strands
of willows
in the wind
and watch the sun rise
and set
across the water
deep
much too far to reach
where the fish and muck have
floated up
and no deer dares to drink
the stars look down
and see it all
for truth is truth
and most truths
are too much to bear
like death
depending on
one’s nature
either you see
the entirety
or pick and choose
which part
to play
pretending you haven’t
the time
such requires
when that’s all anyone
has
is time
as those who haven’t
any
would say
TL
Perspective
she rested
her head
on a rock
the wind
at her back
like a pat
the sound
of a bird
winging away
it might rain
today
I understand
the rain
and why it
falls
TL
What Was
apart
from that
it was good
like looking
out to sea
and catching
a glimpse
of gold
before
it
sinks
beneath the sand
only to float up
elsewhere
shimmering and shining
in another
place
and time
unmatched
in words
and deed
the feeling
of a dream
before
it is
TL
SHANIA
before
she was
a superstar
writing and singing
her own
signature songs
she was
just a 10-year-old child
living in poverty
suffering at the hands
of her step-dad
who abused her
in every way
imaginable
she wasn’t just struggling
to find food
but a way to cope
day to day
living with a volcanic step-dad
an abused mother
and sisters that looked to her
for mothering
it was the magic of music
that swept her away
and saved her
and gave her
another life
to live
one she dreamt of
and prayed for
and worked for
sacrificed for
she’s strong
not because she chose
to be
but because
she had no other
choice
but to be
a songbird
in the dead
of winter
singing
to the trees
to the drunks in bars
to the people who paid
to the strangers from town to town
city to city
country to country
stage to stage
‘til she made it
to the Hall of Fame
where great songwriters
get to go
and be remembered
for the gifts they gave
away
TL
Tub
I cleaned
the tub
the one
we used to
sit in
when you were
small enough
to lift
and tote
and set
and whirl
and spin
back then
it was all about
the bubbles
those magic sparkle bubbles
you loved looking
at
and I loved looking at you
looking at them
feels like yesterday
when it was just
you and me
sittin’ in the tub
bubble high
do you remember how
I’d write words on your back
and you’d try to guess
what they were
and how you always got
I love you
now, you’re 16
and 16
can turn her own faucets on
and pour her own bubbles in
and light her own candle
and drain her own water out
and fix her own cup of tea
she needs me
in other ways now
mostly just to listen
and encourage
and say
it’ll be ok
I love you,
too
TL
True Grit
she’s a runner
that went the distance
and kept going
beyond the finish line
for her
there is no line
she is the human spirit
made known
her life has shown
the essence of what is essential
that no matter what
you’re faced with
in life
whatever it is …
you press on
and chip away
at the mountain
in front of you
she dug her way out
of the dirt that fateful day
and found out
who she really was
what she was capable of
and how she would
lead
down the stretch
at her own pace
figuring out
along the way
how to survive
and begin again
she pushed past
the endurance level
past what is expected
concluded and closed
she took what
could have killed her
that day
in the desert
and transformed
into something beyond
this world
she believed
in the tomorrow
she lives today
and she’s not done
turning the dirt
over
true grit: Turia Pitt
TL