Tag: Poetry

The Impossible

Happy go freaky,

Style for a mile.

Ambulance mind,

So fine.

Go fetch your dream,

Get to it!

Place your hands

On the balance beam

Of life expression,

And make your moves.

Chase that vision,

That holy mission,

For you alone.

Never turn back.

No regrets.

Sail on!

Identity

It’s a part of me,

My personality,

My sexuality,

Individuality.

I am unique,

The way God made me,

The way my parents raised me,

The things I’ve discovered

Along the bumpy way.

There’s no shame

In being this way—

Just because it was

Never mentioned in church,

Or school,

Or at home.

Even the basics

Were not taught.

Trial and error

Was my only way

To discover my body,

To find out

What it means

To be human.

To experiment

Inside and out,

To pop those bubbles

Of misconception,

Perversion of religion,

Crucifixion.

Cutie Pea

Distance grows

In the reflection of sunsets,

Deep in the pupils of your eyes.

Around your bright blue irises,

The once clear white

Is streaked with bloodshot,

And the skin on your cheek

Sags with the gravity of age,

And the weight of worries,

Long forgotten,

Though carried still.

What happened

To the happy-go-lucky girl

That I married,

Experimenting and experiencing

Life to the fullest,

Young and fresh and free?

Oh, those were the days:

Going on long walks together,

Holding hands.

Staying up late at night

And into the morning,

Just talking.

Intoxicated with each other.

Yes, that girl is gone,

But in her place is a woman,

Stronger, braver and wiser.

A more confident and courageous

Caretaker and leader,

Someone who takes risks.

Weathered by suffering and loss,

But soft and loving to the end.

A much improved confidante,

A loyal partner,

A treasured friend.

Three

Clinging to the stars,

I celebrate my levitation.

Closing every door,

I circumnavigate precipitation.

The wind picks up,

But I am on vacation,

Safe and warm,

Beachside in the Caribbean.

Do you know the downside

To a publicized oblation?

Just ask the guy who’s

Ruining our nation.

Come to see the referee.

Watch him weep for inflation.

Watch him wash our feet

Without complaining.

Come and listen to the angels,

Singing sweetly in the trees.

Come rise up into the clouds,

Where nifty seeds are sprouting Hi-C.

Can you catch me? Not likely.

I must be going—It’s almost three!