A Normal Friend

normal

Every once in a while
I meet someone
who is a little off her rocker

like the white double ones
that sit on front porches
inviting friends to sit

and chat a while,
or even stand for a fast hour
talking about things in common.

It’s like conversing
with yourself
only not as nutty as speaking aloud
to yourself, and not having to worry

because you answered yourself
(I always answer myself)
saying I am too weird or too different

to have any “normal” friends;
not realizing that normal is only
an issue when you compare yourself

to others.
Independent of another’s likes, dislikes,
wants, needs, quirks, opinions, views,

religion, character flaws, talents and
shortcomings, we are all our own sense
of normal.

The greatest gift a friend can give,
other than the joy of a good conversation,
is the ability to make you forget that

you are crazier than most; that you are
Ab-normal. If you find this in a person,
you have found yourself a normal friend.

Cockroaches in the Sink

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She talked of abuse
like many others have.
Contacts, years beyond
inappropriate,

And they became alien
to their own feelings
outside and in

Small, dark spaces
where cockroaches hid
during the day;

Clicked, at night, across
yellowed linoleum
while little girls

Sucked their thumbs
and slowly died
down the hall.

Read more poetry (I’m sure some much more light-hearted than mine) at d’verse poets pub today.

Tree Tops, Monkeys and One Banana

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Thoughts in my head, like five monkeys with one banana* –
the damn family tree. The mind is the first to go
when one goes insane. Hah! …redundancy

was my thing until I “got me some pills to pop.”
Neurons, neurons, go away!  Come again some other day.
Their over-excitability’s a real drag at times, but no longer

or at least not mostly, like before when
I used to put pen to paper five times a week at least
(again, at least)…and now it is the very least

activity in my life because the neurons and their neurons
don’t come out to play. Maybe it’s the 105 degree heat
or summer camps and swimming pools. (I don’t remember

the excuses this past winter and spring.) Matters not!
I can breathe! I can breathe! I can breathe!

And I no longer need the sweet scent of tree pulp
to open airways constricted by yesterday’s dust.

But then again, I am a bit of a tree hugger…and underneath
the bark lies rings and rings arranged in a downward spiral
like the rabbit hole I know too well.

*a borrowed metaphor…thanks, B.

Can’t believe I am visiting d’Verse tonight. I’m so excited!

YOLO* and Other Vacation Bits

heart rock similar to the one I found in the restaurant parking lot after dinner.

heart rock similar to the one I found in the restaurant parking lot after tossing the Frisbee around in a nearby field after dinner.

Today was like my morning cup
of Starbuck’s coffee – filled to the brim:

Horseback riding, single file
until my horse turned back to
attack my husband’s mare.

A kink on the trail, a rift on the edge of a cliff,
all because his horse drew too near
to mine’s rear (no metaphor there!)

On to high ropes and balance beams galore,
twenty feet above the arcade floor.

I focused on my trembling child
through the camera’s lens
as she grasped the overhead strap
securely clasped to her harness.

I thought about how witnessing their falls
is the hardest part of all of being a parent.

Later, she grabbed my hand;
our eyes locked and she smiled.
Looking star-struck, she said,
“I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you, too,” I replied.

Then to the arcade; what luck!
My two normally feuding ducks
became one to conquer the claw,
each one capturing a huge knobby ball.

And the youngest, with baby elephant tucked under arm,
desperately fed the monster machine her own food,
praying it would regurgitate another stuffed cutie
for her sad older sister.

Next was 3-D golf under a mini-sea.
Sharks swiftly swam. Stingrays slyly smiled.
No score was kept for that would have only
interrupted the conduit of fun.

At dinner, my 12-year-old declared, “YOLO!”*
before tossing a jalapeño into her mouth. Oh!
Guts busted when wet paper lined her tongue
as she tried to wipe the fire with a four-ply napkin.

Next to her, my 8-year-old daughter’s French fries
fraternized on a Frisbee flipped up, which
we later threw around with bouts of laughter.

As the sun rose, I poured out some of my coffee
to make room for cream and sugar, like discarding
a week of work for a family vacation.

I sipped slowly and smiled softly
at the day I didn’t yet know,
at the memories which lied ahead.

*YOLO – You Only Live Once

New Edition of The River Muse

river muse

Have you seen the new issue of the River Muse? Hot off the press and celebrating our 2nd Anniversary! – Check it out at therivermuse.com and make sure to follow here at “She’s Writing” as I feel some poetry itching in my fingertips. 🙂

A Little Explanation

“To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary.
To one without faith, no explanation is possible.”
~ St. Thomas Aquinas

st. thomas aquinas

No longer dwelling in past or future;
to write of either is to murder Now,
and I am no killer!

I want to live in Eternity –
that timeless presence
where egoic mind has no place;

where there are no places
of spaces and time. You see,

when I write I think,
and when I think I
categorize, and when I categorize
I suffocate in small boxes

like rodents being carried home from
pet stores – transfers from cage to cage.

I wish I could tell you
more, but it is something
you have to experience
for yourself.

Pause.

The flutter inside of your heart –
the one that is cautiously, yet excitedly,
saying “Yes!” –
that is a good start.

At the Threshold of Life and Death

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photo prompt from Eric at Bifocal Univision

Standing at the narrow end of a tunnel,
where the bright light should be, that’s
where you’ll find me, wondering why the air is dark.

Bony tendrils poke out into the light,
their thin skin singeing with each prod.
I keep my distance just right –

teasing death

like the licking of lips before a forbidden kiss,
making it long for the taste of my last breath –

a high like no other.