My Irish Grandpa

Rows of plants in Mississippi sunshine,

tangles of dew berries hanging on thorny vine,

overalls stand tall, boots colored with rich soil,

bowls of fruit with sugar sprinkles,

hot coffee with oatmeal,

trips to city hall to talk about business,

trips to the mall for ice cream cones,

salt and pepper hair, skin quilted with wear,

rough hands and Sunday suits,

singing loud with voice so bold:

"Way down upon the Suwannee River,

far, far, away,

that's where my heart is turning ever,

that's where the old folks stay."

Far away is where he stays,

perhaps we'll meet again some day,

we will walk in the garden to pass through time,

we will eat from thorny dew berry vines,

we may sing or be silent - I can't be sure,

My Irish Grandpa, I adore.

The King of Green

This man.

This man who smelled of wood and coffee,

who loved his people and his friends,

who cared for creatures great and small,

who always had a hand or time to lend,

who listened slowly to other's stories,

who told his own with wit and grace,

who always had the kindest words,

who saw the silver lining first,

who had a soul sent straight from heaven,

who spoke to each as if the only,

who made time for play and sun and flowers,

who never hurried but did things quickly,

who fixed the broken while saving the parts,

This man had a lion's heart.

He had a patience never matched,

a humble soul, a mind so sharp,

he's missed by all who ever knew him.

He's missed by me, his life was art.

The Queen of Purple

The last kiss I pressed to her forehead,

surrounded by people in a sterile place,

lines of pain mark her face,

eyes clamped closed in restless sleep,

time her sweetness couldn't keep,

love colored pain filled me whole,

sorrow dug it's hateful hole,

Her wisdom, spirit, her grace did fill

my sun colored memories of her -

they will

continue on through me to mine,

I'll carry her through until such time

when I must go, must hold the hope,

that through my family's memory rope

her royal purple happy thread

will carry forward when I'm dead. 

The Narcissist

Garments of arrogance never flatter,

take off your pride and know your place.

Through your eyes your high above them, 

this leaves you in sub-level space.

Face forward, chin high, truth overlooks you,

her shadow colors you a fool.

A victim to your self deceptions, 

your image leaves you blind to all.

Such narcissistic self perceptions,

 raise you high for your steep fall.  

Humble

Memory stretches ahead

future blank

past filled

blonde heads

sunshine

broken spirit

trial

revival

fall again

get up

get stronger

ignorant, stumbling idiot

remember, you don't know

be humble

or you won't grow

dream careful

watch the heart

watch the tounge

dodge the dart

help the weak

reward you seek

will blossom

inside

when you lose pride.

White Picket Fence

Pretty portrait painted,
picket fences white,
yard full of flowers,
no sign of a fight,
cloudless blue sky,
smiling face,
I wanted to live in this place.

On the wall of my mind
picture is hung,
as insult and greed
through youth were flung,
kept my eye on ideals,
plotted my course,
not knowing
the real estate
of my mind was a farce.

Banked all my efforts,
eye on the prize,
not seeing truth
before my eyes.

 Beginning to dig
for what's real in this life,
I found myself truly
reborn through my strife.
Take a step back,
excavation reveals
all those old worn out
and tired ideals.
I throw in what's died
hold dear what remains
cover it over
and survey my gains:

Truth, Love, and Peace,
they live in this world.

This isn't the dream of a delusional girl. 

Contrary Evolution

I am a survivor,
I am defeated,
I am a dreamer
I am gifted with ideas,
I am a woman of intentions,
I am a student of the Universe,
I am a lover of things natural,
I am a mother of men,
I am a sister to warriors,
I am the daughter of  heroes,
I am the friend of all I find,
I am a gentle soul,
I am a fierce defender,
I am unworthy of my blessings,
I am grateful despite this,
I am a noble woman,
I am a humble servant,
I am a silly girl,
I am a wise human, 
I am a walking contradiction,
I am more than I can tell you,
I am less than I could be,
I am a being who contains a fragment of the divine,
I am a symphony of flaws and perfection,
I am evolving into the person I will be tomorrow.

Two a.m.

                                                     You have a heart that longs to settle,

a mind that begs to wander,

a wisdom that tells them both to accept

that control is an illusion,

the racket of this argument

leaves a constant state of confusion.