A Gift

My friends and family have always said I have a gift: my voice. When I was in elementary school, I sang soprano in the Florida Boy’s Choir.  I enjoyed the performances, the dressing up, the beautiful music–I got a good taste.

I went on to other pursuits after that, but my gift called me back again. In 9th grade, I returned, this time to a co-ed chorus.  We did a few token latin pieces, but as can be appreciated for young teenagers, our teacher kept us emersed in popular tunes that she knew well like the Beach Boys and the Beatles.

I continued on in high school, where my teacher exposed us to Andrew Lloyd Webber musicals and permitted us to create our own choreography. It was interesting.

Then my dad talked to the manager of the Florida Boy’s Choir, who said Florida State University was one of the top schools for music majors.  We took a trip up to Tallahassee, and I fell in love with the hills and trees.

Florida State University Westcott Center
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I started out trying to get into University Singers while being totally unprepared.  They made me sing the National Anthem– I learned my lesson, and stayed away from that group.  I sang in the Chamber Choir and the Gospel Choir, having some interesting experiences in both.

From there on out, it was just church choirs, which was my least favorite.  And indeed I eventually faded out of there.

Now I just brighten the ears of the person in the pew in front of me.  And in that I find very fulfilling and enjoyable.  As long as I spent on the stage, I think that it really was not for me.


Backing Down

It was coming.

I dreaded it with every muscle

In my withered body.


I hadn’t done my work.

It was obvious.

Everyone could tell on my face,

And I had no piece of paper on my desk

For her to pick up.


“So where is it?” she grumbled.


“I forgot to do it,” I smiled meekly.


“Okay, so don’t be like this one,

Who thinks he is too good to do his work!

And don’t let it happen again!” she said looking

Down at me in an oh-so-menacing way.


“I promise.”


Backing down was what was called for here,

Not wanting to cause a fuss,

Or threaten my grade for the semester.

A little lost face was worth it.


It happened again.

You had thrown your back out,

And you were stuck in bed.


Of course you waited almost a week

Before telling me of your plight.

You never want to bother me,

Figure I’m too busy.


Finally, you called me.

And I came to your house.

You didn’t look good.

You hadn’t bathed in a week.


You had sent me to the store

To buy a few groceries

And something for dinner.


A week later,

You finally made it to the toilet.

A month later,

You finally went again.


You survived on Gatorade,

One meal a day,

Peanut butter crackers,

And Little Debbie snacks.


Then your knees went out.

It was the same all over again.


Stuck in bed, food deliveries,

Taking in the mail,

And in the end,

Helping with the shower.


You worked towards that.

Every day,

A little closer

To the restroom.


Both to the toilet

And to the shower.


For the shower,

You needed more

Strength and balance.

So it took more time.


But you got there.

You made it.

You were determined

And patient,

And you made it.



Wednesday Poetry Prompts

Poetic Asides #137



Sometimes people float into

Our lives, and they stay a while.


You don’t know how long

They will be there.


Sometimes you become friends,

Due to common interests,

Or common experience.


And sometimes that friendship

Blooms into something more.


Sometimes you really care

About each other,


And sometimes, you fall in love.


From there, at least for a while,

Things sometimes go nicely,


But often, one or the other

Brings the sting of pain


Into the relationship.

And from there,


The relationship is tested.

Can the love withstand


The pain, or is there

Reason to break?


Such is the path,

That some tread lightly,


And some go through

Full-force, future-be-damned.


Either way,

Sometimes love is fickle,


And sometimes love

Turns into war.


One never knows

What to expect,


When one falls in love.




Carry on Tuesday #110

Honestly Me

Staying true,

And being blue.


Standing here,

Showing no fear.


On the threshold

Of something new,


Something honest,

Some don’t do.


Showing one’s faults,

Showing one’s doubts,


Not hesitating

To leave the big house.


No cover, no shame,

No hiding one’s name.


Just being me.

Do you dare to do


The same?



Writer’s Island

Week #25


Crushing arms of death

Come down from the sky.


I ask, I plead again,

The tried old question, “Why?”


Fearing worse than death,

I run as fast as I can.


Nothing left but now.

No time to prove a man.


What is worth it?

Life is such a chance.


To commit or to be free,

A question of romance.


A decision must be made,

At least according to the rest.


To measure up to snuff,

To pass their crazy test.