People Watching

                        Picture from Google Images

In a crowd of people passing
to my left and to my right,
I see so many faces
with expressions dark and bright.

Entertainment comes from
people watching all around.
Some people with their heads in clouds,
or tripping on the ground.

Little children laughing
with hardly a care at all.
Boys at play with bat and ball,
or girls with baby doll.

Moms wiping toddlers dirty hands
as they gossip with soccer moms.
Dads holding their noses tight
as the pick up doggie doodoo bombs.

Teens with hair all spiked up,
orange, pink, blue and green.
Noses pierced or maybe lips
or any other skin pierce-able scene.

People of all ages with special ink
and tattoos that mean so much.
A memorial tat, a portrait,
all gifts of an artists magical touch.

Couples fighting over money,
or a maybe a lack thereof.
An old man who still loves his wife,
holding her hand and giving her a hug.

Toddlers throwing fits in Wal-Mart,
and moms holding their ground.
Kids being respectful in public,
even when their parents aren't around.

People come in many forms
with personalities unique.
If you get a chance to people watch,

sit back quiet-like and take a peek. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The prompt from @writingprompt was: People Watching

Cross-posted at Poets United for Poetry Pantry -  Visit Poets United here

Cross-posted at Diverse Poets Open Link Night! - See here

Four White Mugs

                 Photo from Google Images

Four white mugs
hanging from their hooks,
above the kitchen sink.

They've held many things
within their depths,
and not just things to drink.

On the front of each
a memory lives,
faded, yet full of dreams.

A photo from when
it was brand new,
before liquid warmed its seams.

On the first mug
a reminder of dad,
and my childhood memories.

A diesel truck,
called a Peterbuilt,
and stains inside from coffee beans.

On the second mug,
my baby boy,
barely new and sucking a binky.

He's now eighteen,
with bigger things,
than a toy truck and a silver slinky.

The third mug,
is devoted to love,
and second chances brand new.

With little hearts,
and words of hope
it signifies love found between two.

The fourth mug
holds nothing at all,
no pictures just lots of attending.

Hot toddy when sick,
eggnog for Santa
and hot tea for tummy tending.

These mugs have held
more than drinks,
they've also held hugs and tears.

And no matter how much
they age and fade,
they'll be kept all through the years.

Busy Brains and Mental Trains

Flashes of memories bounce through our busy brains.
Reminding us of all our losses and of all our gains.
Taking us on little trips upon these mental trains.
We hear one voice celebrate while another voice complains.

In that which rivals sanity the voices cause us chaos.
Reminding us of troubled times and painful feelings of loss.
Are we the helpless victim or the pushy boss?
Do we allow our family tree to be smothered by pain moss?

Many years and centuries have left us full of condition.
Searching for the answers and demanding some fruition.
Listening to the voices of sin demanding definition;
then using that, which is defined, to defend our every position.

Just because the ego thinks that somehow we are lacking,
doesn't mean we are doomed, so might as well start packing.
Now is the time to let the voices speak without reacting.
The goal to let ourselves simply be, without so much distracting.

Fresh Paint

Phto from Google Images

She whispers, oh, so softly
to the man who winks from the moon,
"I need a fresh, new coat of paint
and my soul needs a brand new tune."

She listens as he whispers back,
"Then, my girl, you know what to do.
Dream it big and dream in color.
Then sing your soul into feeling brand new."

She nods her head and winks at the moon
then she starts on her way.
She knows she has lots of dreaming to do,
so she might as well start today.

Tucked in tight she turns out the light
and closes her eyes to dream.
The first thing she sees are spiders
and it almost makes her scream.

In the nick of time she lets it unwind
and the spiders go away.
She tells herself, "This is my dream,
and I'll decide how to play."

She starts to walk in dream land
but her legs are weak and frail.
It puzzles her for a moment,
then in her dreams she starts to sail.

To her delight her arms take flight
and fly her from here to there,
She flies all over the cosmos it seems,
flying about without a care.

The sky is blue and clouds are gray
and she thinks she wants something green.
So she points a finger and thinks it so
and the clouds turn a neon sheen.

For varieties sake she points again,
this cloud yellow, then that, baby blue.
Another in purple and one in pink,
and the river below an orange hue.

That pickup truck she sees in the field,
she turns into candy cane stripes.
And the picket fence that lines the street
in alternating colors and whites.

She handles the color then goes about
finding a tune for her spirit.
Something upbeat and inspiring,
with love and possibility wrapped in it.

The birds in dream land start to sing
and the wind begins to whine.
She joins in with a whistle
and snapping her fingers in time.

She wakes with a smile and feeling fresh,
with a musical tune upon her lips.
She knows today is a brand new day,
she looks confident with swaggering hips.

Deep inside the voice of the moon
whispers a little reminder,
"A new state of mind starts inside
so be prepared to dig in and find her."

"Day dreams or night, its worth the fight
to dream and live in color."
"And finding the light to express your dreams
can't easily come from another."


Posted at Dverse Poets Open Link Night 9/20/2011
http://dversepoets.com/2011/09/20/openlinknight-week-10

Genie in a Suit

I put that mask upon my face,
the mask they gave me to wear.
I put it on to hide my reaction,
to make one think I didn't care.

Like a genie dressed up in a suit,
trying to disguise my identity.
not allowed to really be me,
manipulated by life's puppetry.

The little genie inside of me
slowly started to fade away.
Loosing my magic like marbles
lost in a game of careless play.

Just in the nick of a thing called time,
my genie could hide no more.
I ripped off that suit that smothered me
as it was something I'd learned to abhor.

I had put it on and tried to hide
from the many, the few, and me.
I worried too much about what they thought,
so I wouldn't just let myself be.

Before I let myself take off the suit
I couldn't look in the mirror.
The pain I saw behind those eyes
looked dull and lost in fear.

But after, I looked, and saw a spark,
subtle, but yet it still shined.
I'd caught the magic before it dissolved
and before I'd totally lost my mind.

In all Fairness

In all fairness were both saddened
by the tension in this moment,
so many words that have been mentioned,
and we've both felt some disappointment.

A little piece of us is wounded
and our biggest fear ever is falling apart.
As confusion's breeding delusion
and birthing wee little splinters in our hearts.

Yet, in all fairness I must say,
this love of ours is worth the fight.
It fulfills so very much of my heart,
nothing else has ever felt this right.

So let's let bygones be just that.
Sometimes it truly is ~ what it is.
No reason to let this fall apart,
because there's so much more than this.

~~~~~

For My husband . . . my second chance . . . I :heart: u.

Here's to making this work,
with love being strong enough to beat
all the stress of life, kids, chaos and illness.

Here's to forever!

Fortunate

I thought long and hard.
I thought sane and crazy.
I thought, then I slept . . .
then I woke up so hazy.

I crossed railroad tracks,
willing trains just to take me.
I dreamed when I slept . . .
and hoped death would just save me.

I felt like such a failure.
My hope was frail and thin.
I lived in a world of emotional pain,
I hid behind a masked on grin.

But then one day something flipped,
that switch inside my mind.
I started to want to live once again,
and it happened just in time.

I crossed those railroad tracks again,
this time my thoughts were these~
I wanna live, to be a mom,
so train, don't hit me, please.

And even though I had been lost,
I'm so fortunate I can now say.
I didn't give up and decided to live,
and I'm grateful each and every day.


~~~~~

Inspired by a twitter @writingprompt : fortunate

Small Brass Key

Locked up tight in my heart
are memories of you loving me;
though long ago I threw away
that precious small brass key.

You know the key, the little one;
you gave to me with hope.
You know the key, the tarnished one;
tied to the end of my rope.

I carried it for many years,
long after our love had died.
It tarnished up from all my tears,
even those ones I tried to hide.

I carried it around my neck,
it strangled me with its pain.
I carried it like a burden,
for there was nothing more to gain.

Then one day that key snagged,
causing my heart to stumble.
I felt like I was being dragged,
no more reason to be humble.

I cut the rope and left the key
somewhere between 'love' and 'I don't care';
and though the key is gone,
that little rope still hangs right there.

Reminding me of memories,
of broken hearts and loves lost.
and it will always be a part of me,
for in the game of love, that is the cost.


¤¤¤¤¤¤

Inspired by @writingprompt on twitter: Small Brass Key

Cold Water

I cautiously look into the mirror,
Anxiously dreading what I will see.
And just as I had suspected
tear-filled eyes look back at me.

My face is red and splotchy
and these eyes look so confused.
There's bags living under my eyes
looking puffy and slightly bruised.

Today I hide behind my tears
and exhaustion doesn't help.
If I was a little puppy dog
you'd hear my moody yelp.

I know I must still make it,
through this moment and the next.
So I splash cold water on my face,
to get me through 'til I can rest.

And the coolness of the water
soothes my eyes and my aching heart.
It may not seem like much,
but at least it is a start.

~~~~

Inspired by:
@writingprompt : Cold water....

And by a weary moment of dispair and the determination to survive it.

~~~~

Also submitted to:

Poets United: Poetry Pantry: Week 2

Her Voice Speaks Silently

I looked up to you long before
I knew your name was Edna May.
Back then you were merely Grandma,
mine from that very first day.

I'm eternally grateful to God above
for blessing my life with you;
times spent with you-my favorite,
memories I'll always hold true.

My guardian angel-nudged by God,
I'm touched when your letters appear;
it's like you know I need you
and those letters help bring you near.

As a kid I longed to touch your hair,
much to your dismay;
I thought your hair was so beautiful,
perfectly combed and silver-not gray.

You were my connection to Mom,
and for that I am so thankful.
You've always left me feeling so special,
and my heart is eternally grateful.

You've gently touched my soul
since before I was even born,
always watching over me
and keeping my spirit warm.

You speak to me so silently
in spiritual words only I can hear,
and even when you aren't around-
in my heart I feel you near.

With my inner voice I call out to you
and I know you'll always hear,
and you'll say your daily prayers for me
as you lend a loving ear.

I remember wanting to run away,
as a little girl-straight to you;
I always felt safe in your arms
and your love-it felt so true.

Many have called you Mother,
Auntie, sister and friend;
but I call you my special Grandma-
my role-model 'til the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Inspired by a twitter prompt
"her voice" by @writingprompt
and by my fabulous Grandma :)

(portions of this I originally wrote in 2009)

Disguised Behind a Smile

In dimly lit rooms people hide
from fear, pain and reality;
from peace, love and tranquility.

Wearing thinly veiled disguises
they venture out with smiles,
carrying baggage across the miles.

The weight of the load is quite heavy;
they're scared to let go I suspect,
something to do with self-respect.

The truth is I don't just guess on this;
in reality I know it well,
for I too have my story to tell.

My own collection of splinters and scars;
of pain, loss and confusion;
of living a life of illusion.

Wearing my mask through my day,
yet dying a little inside,
as my soul silently screamed and cried.

But the truth is behind those silent tears;
behind the pain hidden by disguise;
you're wide awake and so very alive.

And soon you'll break off the mask;
you will no longer need to hide;
you will wear your heart with pride.

A rebirth of souls will occur;
as you put one foot in front of the other
and slowly begin to recover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

via a twitter prompt:
"disguised"
From: @writingprompt