I am forever grateful to my big sis, the one and only The Monster in Your Closet, for constantly inspiring me to do the things I love and to be a better person. And, for letting me be a guest author on her Prescribing Joy series. Check it out! Prescribing Joy: Reading Dreams – http://wp.me/p1kMtx-6u5
Tag: poetry
No More Names
I saw the headlines I read the articles That another man died yesterday And another today Fathers, brothers, sons Another death Another name To add to that growing list Of … Continue reading No More Names
“Just”
Is there any more exhausting word
Than the small
The righteous
Ripe
Word
“Just”?
All you need to do
You
Just
Need
To
Do
More
The words and worlds
In that single word
That say
You
Are not
Doing
Enough
The Maze of a Modern Mom
Pacing the floor To soothe That neurotic itch To get a few steps more For the FitBit lift But the floor is a maze A Labyrinth worth pacing A veritable … Continue reading The Maze of a Modern Mom
Horrors Pass
My children laughed They played and giggled Took turns Hugged and Kissed each other’s scraped knees And I Held my bated breath Waiting For the first fist to fall The … Continue reading Horrors Pass
A Little Bit More
Days bleed one into the next and the next and the next My laughter mingles with the salt of my tears as tiredness walks hand-in-hand with the joys of being all … Continue reading A Little Bit More
The Space Between
She dreams her dreams
Of hope and peace
A pen in her hand
A smile on her face
And in the clutter of her daily life
The mess, chaos, and all the noise,
She sits back and smiles
Thinking on all the laughter and all the joys
That all the spilled milk, juice and paint
Could never ruin, never taint,
For in every mess a memory was made.
That royal blue paint on the carpet?
That was a brilliant blue sparrow on the page,
Her daughter’s first bird,
For the first forest she painted.
The red on the walls, the tables, and dogs?
Her son’s laughter as he grabs his first marker,
Are worth a gentle chiding, nothing more,
Since that’s what washable markers are for.
So, in those moments of chaos sweet
She can dream her dreams,
Of joy and peace,
Content in her clutter
Her joyous mess
Her path, her road, her temple,
Her home called Happiness.
Self-Doubt
And from the deepest shadows of her mind That dark beast rises, gnawing, ravenous, It searches, searches, until it finds That little girl, all wrapped inside Her little globe, her … Continue reading Self-Doubt
Breathe
So, the last few weeks have been stressful. As in, I stopped seeing myself as a human being, and instead was just a ball of aches and anxiety. When it … Continue reading Breathe
Lost Tree, Found Girl
I had a funny morning the other day, and I don’t know why, but I picked a few weeds, and began thinking about my garden growing up, and the amazing … Continue reading Lost Tree, Found Girl
R.R. Wolfgang 