Mothers, I Celebrate You

The workaholic
Who never has enough sleep
Cares for everyone

My gift to you is this love
Your existence saves

Mothers, God bless you
You bloom when we all wither
Weeping willows sing

Happy Mother’s Day to those of you who are mothers, those of you mothering others who are not your own, caretakers and rescuers and do-gooders. Thank you for who you are and what you do. I celebrate you.

I Understand True Love Doesn’t Sleep

A Prose Poem

Photo by Dasha Pats via ReShot

The day of love approaches — savored lips flaunt in the midnight air — an enticing invitation for feelings swaddled in blankets too tight for release.

I have my ways, I know. You tell me this often, and I do hear you. I do. But I find my ways to be risky if I veer too far away from them — they’ll find me. They’ll seek me out.

And once I’ve been repurposed and re-homed, they will betray me. You have been my ruin for different shades of many moons — I want out.

I understand true love doesn’t sleep, but this feels like death — pre-meditated. I don’t remember signing up for this. *“You were light, but you were never my sun.”

I gave you a place at the table of my world — you sopped at every morsel, buried your woes at my feet. I welcomed the torment. I opened my door to the revolution and it struck me without warning.

I am burned by the light of a star.

Here . . . there are scars that refuse to heal. Here . . . there is pain that continues a cycle. Here . . . there is a heavy cross to bear.

I am broken from carrying it.

I wait for you — afraid that if I move forward in time with someone who walks on high heels and flashes deep dimples in my direction, I will fall and won’t be able to stand and steady myself in an upright position. She makes me weak.

And while the lovers of this realm ululate at the sight of a full moon on a day more special than your favorite sin, I will bite my tongue, don my adulting garb, and thank God for the new pair of balls I’ve grown.

I don’t believe in true love. I did believe in you.

I don’t anymore.

*Taken from the indomitable Sarah Doughty.

Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

Year of the Tiger

“If we’re going to burn this year
let’s burn brightly”

Very well said, by Bartholomew Barker. This is a delightful poem. Please swing by Bart’s little neck of the blogosphere and check it out.

Bartholomew Barker, Poet

Year of the Tiger

That Cheshire cat grin
of the slim crescent
setting in the twilight
is the smirk of a tiger

Will we catch it by the tail
or will the fire in its eyes
ignite the tinder as we saunter
into the flames

If we’re going to burn this year
let’s burn brightly

Happy Lunar New Year! This poem written to the prompts Tiger and Saunter and, of course, shamelessly stolen lines from Blake.


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My New Year’s Love and Me

A Prose Poem

Jernee Timid, my wild-haired little monster. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

My wild-haired love sits comfortably in our space. I stare at her — globes for eyes, a song for a heart . . . she gifts me life. I haven’t had to search for a love stronger than hers in thirteen years — a milestone.

No one can compete. No one can compare.

She is a constant reminder of all things good in this world, and I breathe fresher air when she is near.

The new year tiptoes into sight, carrying unknowns along beaten paths. I will bask in the peace that is the comfort of a lap dog’s patterned pants.

I am safe. I am free.

With family struck ill by an overgrown virus, my stomach is double-knotted as worry sinks itself into my veins. I am prayerful. I am hopeful. They will all survive.

But if death comes knocking again, I’ll plead with him to leave the babies alone. I may get my wish. I may not. But at least I’d state my case. At least he’ll know how I feel about his existence.

A day off from work to spend wisely with a four-legged gem who doesn’t need me to be anything more than I am is a present daring to be opened daily. I unwrap it knowing underneath its covering is and forever will be happiness . . .

And love.

And a look of captivation and admiration from an animal who doesn’t speak my language but understands everything I say.

*It is my hope and prayer each of you will be safe and connected in some way to family and love as you usher in a new year. May it be a happy and prosperous one. Peace and blessings.

Originally published in soliloque via Medium.

Words I Won’t Forget

Christmas cards for 2021

Before I pack these precious words up and store them away, I wanted to share the gift that will keep on giving: the gift of expressiveness through words. Each card pulled a different feeling out of me, and I will cherish every single one of them.

I hope all of you have had the time to enjoy this holiday season and lean into “the little things” just a bit more. I know I have, and I am grateful.