Category: Poetry

The Spirit of Christmas

he always

always

brought me

a tin of chocolates

at Christmastime

that he’d meticulously

made

he loved to watch my reaction

on that first bite

making sure they were jest as good

as last year

after some persuasion

he gave up the recipe

and one day

I made some

and followed his instructions to a T

course they didn’t turn out

quite like his did

the taste was off

and I called him and told him that

he jest laughed as if he knew a secret

his chocolates had a certain quality

and over time, he had perfected the taste

and texture

whipping up batch after batch

in his country kitchen

he made so many happy

with his kindness and grace

at the last get-together at my house

over the summer

I was able to tell him

how much his chocolates meant to me

standing there in front of the refrigerator

I told him how those chocolates of his

helped get me through some tough times

how I’d stand there at the refrigerator

in the middle of the night

when I couldn’t sleep …

soothed by chocolate

thank you, Joe Frank, … I’ll miss you …

especially at Christmas – always, always at Christmas

(March 16, 1939 – October 27, 2021)

TL

Mountain’s Morning

a still

harmony

through sharp

fog

vast views

of paused waves

the shy gleam

of silver peaks

intense clouds

tangling the sky

quiet chaos

of roaring streams

red and yellow

carpet the floor

another leaf

delicately lands

with canopy’s

of evergreen walls

the morning dew

still forming

on blades of grass

(written in Mr. Sprouse’s English class

by one of his 8^th grade students)

A Drop of Reflection

she doesn’t

know it

or maybe she does

she’s more sensitive

than she shows

feeling things deeper

than she lets on

so maybe she does know

known all along

that she’s given me

a second chance

in life

a-sort-of-do-over-type-thing

where I get to experience

growing up again

the way i wished it’d been

through her eyes

I can see

what i needed the most

what i wanted the most

as her mother

as her friend

I am able to give her

all the things

i didn’t have

the material things

are ornamental at best

it’s the intangible things

that give us both

the key

I try not to take

any of it

for granted

her being here

just her being here

in the world

it is a miracle

beyond my grasp

beyond my comprehension

beyond my level of understanding

she is the ray

of light

that i reached for

in the dark

on the darkest of nights

and then the morning after

in the stillness

the repressed stillness

of unshed tears

i searched the sky

the clouds

and felt the rain

drop down

and the wind

pick up

in that lilt and lifting way

it does

steering a gull

across the shore

TL

September

i still

don’t have

any answers

to the questions

i have

and you’d think

by now

i’d be ok

with that

but it’s like there’s

no closure

to the questions

that never get answered

the journalist in me

wants to know the why

the person in me

just needs peace

and i can’t get that

down the street

or over the tracks

or at the edge of the ocean

or at the foot of the mountain

or standing at your door

and maybe it’s September

and for some reason

this month is hard

been hard since that letter

showed up (years ago) in September

and how i didn’t wanna open it

even touch it

how even when i did

finally

it didn’t tell me nothing

i needed to know

some of it was in typed English

the rest i couldn’t read

but i saw the blanks

all the blanks

all the empty space

where nothing was said

at all

__________________________

but what i could read

told me

what i had believed

all along

wasn’t even true

a birthday that wasn’t even mine

a name that wasn’t even me

all i know

all i’ll ever know

is somebody from somewhere

left me

there

at that police station

long ago

just me

with nothing else

no identity

no note

no trace

so, the letter told me

i’d never know

when i was born

how old i really was

or my name at birth

they issued those things

at the orphanage

they just picked a month, a day, a year

out of thin air

poof

and then a name

was assigned

a stamp put on paper

a sticker on the page

a number of identification

stuck on file

like a sticker on a Tshirt

that i exist

somewhere in the world

i knew only two words in Korean

that i would say

over and over again

one meant dad

the other meant grandma

why i’m thinking about this

now

at 5 in the morning

is beyond me

i mean it’s not like i think about these things

all the time or anything

or maybe i do

or maybe it’s September

that’s a hard month

it just is

i don’t know

i really don’t

i just don’t

know

TL

In Downtown

there are three

clocks on the wall

telling different

times

the rain

heavy now

every window’s

hiring

umbrellas over

empty chairs

finally a cappuccino

worth sipping

she’s gone

and grown

up …

her manicured nail

tap tapping on the wheel

her hair waving wild

in the wind

I can’t keep up … with the pace

close my eyes

remembering the room

the monitor

the bright light

the moment when

I first heard her heart

Boo

ming

Boo

ming

Boo

ming

TL

In Memory

in the fade

of flowers

she lost her ring

the one he never

got to give her

for they waited too long

to decide

thinking tomorrow

but the baby was never born

and the story of their life

was never lived

cut short

at the stem

a field of flowers

cut short at the stem

on a day

much like today

TL

White Roses

21 years

after the song

first hit the airway

and 10 years after

the songwriter died

I heard it

for the first time

today

on the way home …

thank you Harley Allen for writing it

and thank you John Michael Montgomery

for singing it

for The Little Girl …

TL

When it Rains

throw some

glitter in the air

and watch it fall

unmelted snow

on the ground

like sand in the sun

a thousand lights at Christmas

reflected on wet pavement

in the eye of a sailor

who can’t go home

sequins stitched on the sea

gather in the sky

a twinkle in the dark

I heard you whisper

and say

don’t go …

so we danced

under the glitter

of trees

and forgot about the time

running in the rain

like nothing ends

specks stuck

to the windshield

some in your hair

the rest got swept away

I see it

everywhere

TL

His Beloved Son Steve

he can’t

just

get up

and go get in his truck

and drive

he can’t

just

go get on his tractor

and roll around the field

he can’t

just

go wherever he wants to go

whenever he wants to go

his body won’t

allow it

so he sits

and watches squirrels

try to get in the feeder

he sits

and watches hummingbirds

fly in formation

he sits

and watches Monarch butterflies

go by

he sits

and watches the wind

blowing through the trees

he sits

and watches the rain

as it falls

and dries

and gives all his plants

what they need

he’s a farmer in his heart of hearts

and understands

the nature of things

how each crop

has its own season

in its own time

TL

Her Beloved Son Steve

yesterday

a cardinal

appeared

at her doorway

in the blur

she could see it

staring back at her

unafraid

it offered her a sense

of peace

as it stood there

in the stillness

of the morning ray

without a word

it said

what she needed most

to hear

it remained unmoved

‘til the message

was clear

in the fullness of her grief

she felt the lift

of wings

TL

Make Do

they’ve been building

something big

over there

over yonder

massive amounts of dirt

being hauled and dumped and shoved around

and dug

into a giant pool of mud

full of rain

where this floating bird

can be seen from the roadway

drifting serenely by

as if it were a white swan

gliding across a golden pond

at sunset

instead of early in the morning

with motorized machinery

rolling round and round

and a steady stream of traffic

headed to town

this floating bird

pays it no mind

never questioning how a pond

just up and appeared

one day

on land it waddled on

it doesn’t waste a second

wondering how or when or why

it just steps in

and feels relieved

from the humid heat

and tired feet

TL

Summer in September

what were

jest seeds

in May

turned into

watermelons

by September

it gets me every time

how given the right conditions

and the right amount of time

something like that can grow

from a speck of seed

the first one cracked open

wasn’t ready

but the second one

was

there’s something so satisfying

in that first glimpse

of red

they say you gotta roll the melons over

and check the bottom

for a tinge of yellow

fore it’s ready

to roll

ruby ready

TL

Collecting Coins

…

he waited

‘til he’d cleared

the room

the door

and was down the hall

safely down the hall

before he broke

d

o

w

n

it was too much

all too much

for 13

let alone 42

he’s counting coins

staying connected

reaching out

to repetition

the rhythm of repetition

the soothing lull

of clinking coins

he’ll never stop

counting

…

puts one

in his pocket

to keep close

just enough to touch

a two-sided-coin

there’s always two sides

he’d drop ‘em all in the fountain

if he could

if it meant

she’d come back

he looks up at the sky

wondering why …

down every road

he’ll carry the why …

when things don’t add up

and nothing makes sense

you start the count over

it’s easy to get lost

counting

…

you can lose your place

somewhere

in the beginning

in the middle

in the end

and have to start all over

again

but that’s ok

the total changes

over time

with addition and subtraction

new coins, lost coins, old coins, missing coins

silver

copper

gold

the count changes

becoming less

becoming more

keep counting kid

…

don’t ever stop

TL

Sophomore Year

it’s 3:03

in the morning

got up at 1

thinking it was 5

went back to bed

with eyes wide

this is how it was

when she was 5

the night before

she went off

to pre-school

couldn’t sleep

then either

in about 4 and half hours

she’ll be driving

to school

she’s a good driver

thanks to Mr. Dill

I sit on the passenger side

feeling older than I am

Cinderella’s been driving me around

in her modern-day pumpkin

fer 2 months now

preparing …

for this

the first day back

to school

I can hear the bell ringing

TL

Just Away

if you haven’t

a sense

of humor

I haven’t a want

of you

too much of life

is through

not around

or about

under or over

but through

and getting through

it

is a kind of death

as it were

where you die

but don’t die

be it the night

I search your face

for a sunny day

an unplanned split

lift of the lips

that gives way

a way

just away

TL

Emotion

it’s raining

in the woods

and hasn’t let up

the leaves are greener

for it

the roses never looked

as full

the blades of grass

cannot be cut close enough

the bark is black

its ridges gobbling drops

this weather is unwrung

for wings of fancy

and wind-blown strands

the mushrooms pop up

like umbrellas

you’d never know

a turtle was beneath

all the pinecones are wrapped up

tight

the puddles have submerged

the clouds cross

and disappear

the rain is singing its song

the toads seem to enjoy it

the worms are dancing

in mud

someone’s best day

is someone else’s worst

the greatest joy

is connected

to the greatest sorrow

within and without

TL

Self-Imprisoned

there’s a dad

in Oklahoma

who wishes

on every star

in the night sky

that he could go back

in time

he would give anything

in the world

to go back

to that moment when

there was still a choice …

he would’ve never

ever

done cocaine

he would’ve walked away

just walked away

but he can’t go back

in time

what’s done is done

his 4-year-old daughter

and 3-year-old son

aren’t coming back

he keeps looking for them

in his dreams

but the reality is

he found them

in his truck

last summer

after waking from his cocaine-induced slumber

he was sentenced yesterday

in their deaths

serving six or less

but when he gets out

it won’t matter

where he goes

or what he does

he’ll always wake up

in a panic

looking for his children

TL

Eeyore

eye an empty

treadmill

and step on

and go

at this stage

the weight ain’t

the only thing

I’m trying

to get off me

not even close

left

right

and center

there’s always

something

to dodge

rather see it coming

‘ya know

before it knocks me out

cold

hope nobody behind me

on this here treadmill

‘cause they might get hit

in the face

with all the lies

the ones they look ‘ya in the eye

pick up the pace

skip that song

need something more

fitting

that’s better

feel like bricks

on my feet

brownies are flying

1

2

3

4

cookies with chocolate

hit the floor

bowls of alfredo

and stew

and microwave goo

bags of crunch

salty, sweet

and sour

too much sugar

too much salt

and that was jest

yesterday

last week was not pretty

but this morning

I got back on the horsey

more like the mule

a 2-mile hike

trudging to the top

so worth it

the air is lighter

easier to breathe

TL

Dying Inside

the woman

at the window

knows my order

12 egg rolls

and a drink

I like it

when things are

consistently good

so, I don’t deviate

set my timer for 15

and walk on over

to the grocery store

to grab what I need

and go

but yellow

stops me

mid-stride

it’s a baby giraffe

I look at him

and grab his little ear

and swipe him through

self-checkout

and stick him

in the passenger seat

then go get my 12 egg rolls

and get back in the car

devouring 4

as fat splats

hit the windshield

I look over at the giraffe

he has a permanent smile

you’d never know if he was sad

my daughter is out there …

somewhere

driving a gray car

with a yellow sticker: Student Driver

Monday was a blur

yesterday

I ate chicken in my car

and cried

I stopped eating chicken

a few years back

later on

I ended up at the range

and chipped a ton of balls down the hill

and whacked the L out of ‘em back up the hill

onto the green

and felt better

today

I bought a balloon

a baby giraffe balloon

that makes me smile

there was a time

when a big balloon

was all she wanted

2 more days to go …

this whole “letting go” thing

jest ain’t my thing

it ain’t my thing

IT AIN”T MY THING

what am I gonna do

tomorrow

and the day after

that

TL

Fare-Thee-Well

with women

there’s always

something

beneath the surface

things we don’t say

things we put away

sometimes, it’s jest

too exhausting

to explain

so, we speak

of simple things

that don’t need much

of an explanation

we stick to our lists

our relentless lists

of things to do

the short list

the long list

the in-between

the maintaining

of it all

some women

make it look

so effortless

the organized ones

the planners with purpose

I admire them their fortitude

women try their best

to maintain

a sense of balance

in an unbalanced world

we do this in degrees

some days better

than others

we recharge by the sea

when possible

drawing strength

in the quiet morning

air

and the twinkle night

of stars

exercising the mind

and body

the very spirit of one’s soul

should be

more than an idea

or an ideal

but rather

a tangible day-to-day

habit of being

that centers ourselves

for whatever

may befall us

such is life

so much joy

and so much sorrow

in the drop

of a tear

that rolls away

like the rain

on a wedding day

a funeral

or a parade

in the garden

where the roses

bud and bloom

and weep

into a dried wreath

that hangs on the door

or the cover of a coffin

to say hello

or goodbye

fare-thee-well

TL