Category: Your Poem From Me

Your Poem From Me Request #5

trE

The Giving Cause: The Beauty of Friendship

Photo by Asiama Junior via Pexels

I count my blessings . . .
I know the worth of
a strong foundation in
a friendship–one that stands
the tests of time–that outlasts
the bullshit that can build
up at a moment’s notice.

We can swim through anything;
come up for air, pace ourselves
against the waves, and find
the much-needed shore for rest.
I do not take it for granted–I’m
aware of my luck.

For how could I speak of
you in such high regard
without experiencing this
state of bliss?

Others have tried–some waltzed
in with their fake acceptances and
lack of sensitivity, and I know
their type now–I smell them
from miles away.
Trust me, I keep my distance.

At my age, the beauty of
friendship is a gift
that keeps on giving–a treasure
to be found each day.
We sparkle and shine and light
up this world with our presence.

And there is no way
I’m ever going to let this go–
to do so would be foolish.

I’m no fool.

Thank you to Kern Carter for allowing me to gift a poem to you. I really enjoyed writing this one.

To learn more about the Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.

Your Poem From Me Request #4

trE

The Giving Cause: This Is Me . . . Right?

Photo by Genesis Photography-R.E.W. via ReShot

This is me . . . Right?
I know me. I love me.
Everything about me is
different from anyone else.
My curves. My voice. The softer
and jigglier space that is
my middle. My hair. My eyes.
I know me. I love me.

It’s what I keep telling myself.
I have to do this.
I have to remind myself of
the goodness of me.
But I flit–fall into
the echos of my younger self,
lassoed by a time when I
was smaller, more headstrong,
and confident.

I try to push myself
through the present–try to
shift my mind to this
here and now, yet . . .
the past is a mistress.
She keeps calling me, you see.
I am weak for her.
She knows.

I look at NOW me–I
have doubts. I long to
embrace the woman who
smiles back at me in
the mirror–to make peace
with her.
I have to. I should.

If I don’t, what will
happen to me?

This is me . . . Right?
I know me. I love me.
I’ll keep telling myself
who I am . . . who we are . . .
And one day, the mistress
of a PAST me will
grow silent.

Thank you to Kathy Garland for allowing me to gift a poem to you. Writing this spoke to me in many ways.

To learn more about the Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.

Your Poem From Me Request #3

trE

The Giving Cause: My Power. Your Power.

Photo by Huzaini Husin via ReShot

At my age, I haven’t the energy
to argue over meaningless
occurrences–I spend my time
learning the mores of life–increasing
my depth of wisdom.

I no longer flit between strengths
and weaknesses–I know where
I stand. My power is in
the love I give my children–the
conversations I have with
old friends and new acquaintances.
My power is in every breath I
take on a bone-chilling morning–the
final words I say at night.

You can have some, you know . . .
My power. I’m happy to share it
with you. I can blow it
in your direction, corner it
and jar it for safekeeping, smooth
the wrinkles out of it, and straighten
it to your liking.

Does it fit?
Can you wear it?
Here . . . Try it on.

The world around us dwindles
down to ash–we can remain,
undeterred and immovable.
It’s up to us. Let’s merge our
powers and create a superpower
that will live on beyond
the impending apocalypse.
Let my power become your
power . . . Our power . . .
The world’s power.

Thank you to Mary L. Holden for allowing me to gift a poem to you. I truly enjoyed writing this one.

To learn more about Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.

Your Poem From Me Request #2

trE

The Giving Cause: Still, I Grieve . . .

Photo by Bennie P. Baretta via ReShot

I try to give myself grace,
to lend myself peace, but
thoughts of you stir about
in my head during the witching
hours, and I cannot find comfort.
I don’t know it. It doesn’t come
to my aid.

What more could I have done?
What more could I have given?
I am bone-dry and my heart
breaks every time I think of you.
You . . . my father. my love. my light.
I am walking in darkness–the days
are longer–nights are colder.
Do I still have meaning?

Every day without you is
a stab to my heart–salt to
the wound, but I’m trying.
I’m trying.
I know if you were here, you’d
guide me in your own little way–
you’d create a path for
my weary feet to follow.

I have to look for peace
from the stars. I have to lure
it in from the moon. I have to
search for it around every corner,
and still, I grieve . . .
I grieve . . . and I wish I didn’t
have to.

Thank you to Kim Smyth for allowing me to gift a poem to you. It has helped me too.

To learn more about the Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.

Your Poem From Me Request #1

trE

The Giving Cause: Aging in a World of Uncertainties

Photo by Marco Del Pozzo via ReShot

As each year piles on–
Clinging to my skin,
Barnacles of the modern world,
I find myself staring death
In his face.

I walk into another year,
Carrying my past–lugging
Around decades of old
Habits and eons of new pain.
I fear the embrace of
The inevitable–the end of change.

I am supposed to move forward
In life, grateful for breath;
Thankful for air, but the demons
Overcrowd my thoughts, and the
Finality of life’s end is my
Own personal horror.

I open my mouth to scream–
Nothing escapes.
This is where I live now–
On the corner of the aged,
And up the street
From the dying.

I knock on the door of
The present, and no one
Answers.

Thank you to Matt Snyder for allowing me to gift a poem to you. It has been my pleasure.

To learn more about the Your Poem From Me: The Giving Cause, click here. Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.

Your Poem From Me

trE

For some of you who may not have seen this . . . the first gift poem posts tomorrow. This is my way of giving back, and most times, the only way I can do that is through words.

Let me write a poem for you. I can give it life.

trE's avatarA Cornered Gurl

The Giving Cause

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood via Pexels

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.

Carl Sandburg via BrainyQuote

I feel moved . . . compelled to do this. I have had this idea dancing about in my mind for a few weeks now, and with the world still spinning away from where we need it to be, the timing feels right. Poetry has always been my way of communicating when I did not know how to say what needed to be said. It is a way of me being able to connect with this community and other writing communities–an expression of everything I can emote, but has trouble leaving my lips and making its way into the ether. I know I am not alone when I share this–writers, especially those of us more akin and in tune to poetry, rely on our words to heal, help…

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