Pockets Full of You

~

If you left me in the Springtime

Then the birds would halt their song

Quelling singing while you’re leaving

Just to signify how wrong,

If you left me in the Summer

Oh the rivers wouldn’t roll,

With all pebbles parched for moisture

From the babble that you stole.

If you left me in the Autumn

When the leaves begin to turn,

They would stop their color changing

Till the year you might return.

If you left me in the Winter

Then the rain would never fall

For a protest from the Heavens,

As if Angels heard my call.

Yet you left me in the evening,

When the seasons weren’t aware

As a secretive departure

That’s left silence everywhere.

And I feel a sobered sadness

With a chill that’s seeping through,

Each day I wear your overcoat

With pockets full of you.

Down by the Creek

~

Down by the Creek where the tadpoles breed
I used to kneel bare kneed on the long green grass
with my brother catching red legged frogs.

We’d run our mischievous hands
through shallow swampy waters
using an upward sweeping motion,

swirling them around making a rolling current
and scooping cupfuls of murky liquid
between our palms,

we’d raise them towards the heavens
as though we were in morning chapel
waiting for the placement of a perfect wafer.

Sometimes they’d hide under
a downed tree or a cluster of moist leaf
in the marshy root tangles below.

yet they were no match for our
Mark Twain hearts with their
slow swimming breast stroke
through a cattail thicket.

I dreamt someday we’d give
a tiny flourish at the Calaveras fair
with our own able leaping frog
named “Webster.”

How my brother would grin with delight
every time he caught another
his bounty twice my paltry take
he’d glow as bright as the swollen sun
for once again he’d topped my gain

Oh my dear brother, even now,
the best part is knowing
how I let you
catch them all.

Things I Know at Fifty

~

It feels better to be young than old.
No matter how many kids you have-
even one is a lot.

If you wear your skirt short,
the wind will surely turn the hem up
too high for your liking.

Your hair looks best
after getting off a rollercoaster.

Reading in a car is not only dangerous
it makes you dizzy.

No one cares about clean underwear
if you're in a car accident.

Keeping your knees together
is mandatory, especially
when having lunch at a convent.

Girls like sports as much as boys,
boys like girls as much as sports.

The holidays are stressful enough
without having to explain
the whole Santa Claus thing
to an eight year old.

Cooking delicious food
takes time and a good recipe
and is always more delicious
with a glass of champagne.

Smiling when you're trying to be angry
makes you lose the argument
but a lot more fun to be around.

Saying forgive me and meaning it
is the greatest feeling in the world,
especially if you learned something.

Happiness becomes intangible
if you can't see what's right
in front of you.

Wearing red on Valentines Day
is silly, but that's okay.

Sitting next to your ex
at a Chinese restaurant
is never a good thing,

sitting next to your ex's new wife
is always worse.

Expensive shoes
make everything look better,
even if you're naked.

The only thing I miss about being young
is having a silly heart.

Your husband is the only one
who can tell you you're annoying and laugh.

Love means having
to say you’re sorry.

My mother was always
my best friend.

A Hexing Moment
~

What’s wrong with you, you silly thing?
You’ve lost yourself within yourself.
Once you warmed a candle’s flame
between your nimble fingers.

You danced on rocks in sprightly feet
and drank the rain from Easter tulips;
barefoot girl who’s lost her laugh
who never wants to sing.

And now you’re here all wrapped in black
preparing evening’s feast,
wiping china, your mother’s silver,
and missing what used to be.

One knife slips off then falls askew
and forms an X with a renegade spoon,
crimson placemats glow in silk
then whelm your muddled mind.

Soon you're lost to a doom-filled sea

drowning in the wavey redness.
A Christmas tree in tinseled gear,
mumbles words with silver branches.

Come close and chew some evergreen,
a touch of poison; a careless moment-

light the candles, leave a note,
consider the sign that sent you there
on your way to Jesus−

One sterling cross that graced the cloth;
it was just too much to bear.

The Bells of San Dominico

~

The air feels brisk when breathing in
and suddenly I’m small
Many years have left my mind,
as if a life’s withdrawal
Back to days of girlhood,
with no thought to future times
Transformed by simple movement,
of a breath to hearing chimes

The bells of San Dominico,
they’re ringing in my head
And visions of those flowing gowns,
that brushed the girls they led
They looked to me like seagulls then,
as though they’d catch the wind
We’d follow to Cathedrals then,
and single file go in

And I felt their holiness,
their hands were pale and white
And I felt my lowliness,
for Godly was their sight
And the air now smells of soup to me,
it’s broth a golden sea
With mist that swarms around my head
and hypnotizes me

The bells of San Dominico,
they’re ringing in my head
I dream of them with gracefulness,
for I was one they led
I’d courtesy to their dignity
and cherished them each day
I loved them with humility
then bent my head to pray

And I felt their graciousness,
when seated by their side
Held my head just bent a bit,
for sometimes tried to hide
Could I ever really know
what glory they’d achieved?
For married to the Church for life,
transformed to all believe

The bells of San Dominico,
they’re ringing in my head
The days of gowns and goddesses
when holy words were said
And I was seeing something more,
remembered with that chill
Illuminated with a breath,
that’s resonating still

Sleeping girl

~

Now here’s the way it works my child
while you are fast asleep
with dreams of fairies in your hair
and candy you might reap.

I’ll listen for the jangling sounds
the noises in the night
that keep you from your dainty rest
by causing you a fright.

I’ll gather drips that leak inside
black raindrops from the dark
and turn them into something else,
a tiny brown skylark.

To perch atop your windowsill
so when you wake and play
your worries will all disappear
as songbirds start your day.

So that’s the way it works my child
you're mommy’s little dear
and even if you think I’m gone
my darling, I am near.

To The Children
~

She tells them they are stunning with a glow
the way the moon appears in evening’s sky
on wings of beauty, mesmerizing those
who watch the darkness when an orb goes by

presenting beauty perfect in its space.
While eyes that garner queries feel the light
unknowing any answers to the whys’
as children leave her one by one in night

to follow dreams from childhood. Now they’re grown
a mother never fully understands
a child’s need to leave although they must,
her purpose, to adore and guide. Their hands

will reach to her the way the moon sends beams
through windowsills, she’ll love them from afar.
She sees the moon yet cannot shift
its path, a brilliant vision, so they are.

These Damn Arms

~

These damn arms that brush my side
craving sweets, increase my hide
swing around with jelly rolls
these damn arms are hairy trolls

they lie awake and pinch my man
or grab a hold of all they can
I've caught them with a huge eclair
pretending like it wasn't there

Oh these damn arms bring forth your treats
providing food like nursing teats
excuse my grammar when I rant
but these damn arms increase my pant

size just by yearning for a snack
they're sneaky when behind my back
Hey damn arms, control yourself
and leave the cookies on the shelf

pray and sweep and do your chores
you'd beg for food, you hungry whores
make a promise arms I say
atone yourself instead of sway

these damn arms might need a fix
and so I'll glue them down cause chicks
who walk with arms all hard and straight
never eat, their arms look great!

Prayer for Me

~

It’s often that the sound of Christmas wishes
or little prayers sweet children give with kisses
before they’re tucked in by their daddy’s Mrs.

are known to be the kindest thoughts of all
as if the lips of babies though they’re small
could fill the world with love to soon befall

permitting hope and beauty to the one
who opens up his heart and feels the sun
igniting dreams that live in everyone

with memories just sweet enough to trace
when childish wishes filled an impish face
allowing room for thoughtfulness and grace

Things to Recite at Bedtime

~

Promise nothing bad will happen
Double-pinky-shake

Mistle-thumb and mistletoe
Gee, I’m wide awake−−

My rocking chair holds dollies too
“Toot-toot”, won’t you please?

Only for your little girl
And prayers upon my knees

Check for spiders, moths and bugs
Leave the lights on low

Cuz if you don’t do everything
You’re not allowed to go.

Gin and Tonic

~


I heard the eerie silence then
wishing it would stop.
The constant quiet injured me
and soon my ears would pop.

How I yearned to scream aloud
“Come Back, you are a fool!”
“There is No light, stop listening,
Don’t leave, beloved jewel.”

Alas, I kept my sanity
Remained a stoic soul
Conflicted by an ever-loss
With knowledge of your goal.

Death, my only enemy
We had no words to share
He claimed you in a vanishing

within the evening air.

My brothers and my father wept,
illusions filled my brain.
I told them that I saw you smile
when Heaven, called your name.

All of us surrounded you
we knew not what to do,
then we poured your favorite drink,
and toasted your debut.

Isabella's Teacups

~

Oh here are the cups that once were hers
Isabella my sweet who lived and died
She traveled the world by way of train
with Morris and Granny she was his bride

And here are the pearls that once were hers
Isabella my sweet who lived and died
A crescent moon that forms a brooch
she wore each day tucked deep inside

And these are the letters that once were hers
Isabella my lovely who lived and died
saved in a box with jewels and furs
under my bed where secrets hide

And these are the prayers that once were hers
Isabella my sweet who lived and died
adored by men like sweet liqueurs
From every kingdom worldwide

I’m told her beauty exceeded most
Isabella my lovely who lived and died
It was my mother who loved to boast
of one so charming until she cried

I am the last to remember her
Isabella my sweet who lived and died
I hear her footsteps down the hall
she steps with grace, so dignified

I am the girl who wears her name
Isabella my lovely who lived and died
they called her Carol, together the same
now blessed with wings, my angel guide