Thursday, December 29, 2011

But You Say ...

This one calls me bright
Smart
Witty
Intelligent

That one says I'm efficient
A little worker bee

Another calls me kind
Affectionate
Loving
Compassionate

Their encouragement makes me soar.

But you say ...
I'm dumb
Slack and lazy
Selfish and prideful

Dozens of people are in my fan club
But yours is the voice I hear
That taps me on the shoulder and says
"You can't do that.  You'll fail."
And for some reason,
I choose to believe it.
And I am earthbound.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

For Mr. Buble -- with appreciation and apologies


I heard about this Michael Buble poetry contest and thought I'd give it a try.  The contest announcement listed several facts about the crooner, none of which did I find especially insightful.  Then I remembered this story that he told from his teen years. Aha! I knew how to show my appreciation to the voice that makes chores a little less burdensome.  So I offer to you, my readers ...

Chores

In the heat of the summer sun
You swat a fly,
Draw a dusty arm across your brow
And push on,
Criss-crossing the yard
With that heavy mower.
All alone,
Except for Casey Kasem
To keep you company
By counting down the hits.
You sing along,
Dreaming of the day
When he’ll announce your name
At the top of the charts.

In the quiet of my kitchen
I fill a pail
With sudsy water
And criss-cross the floor
With this heavy mop.
All alone
Except for your voice
Keeping me company
By singing "Home."
I am content to sing along,
Grateful you had such a dream
And that you made it happen.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Split Second


I thought I saw you today
In the crowd at the mall.
Mothers with strollers,
Couples with nowhere to be,
Teenage girls with packages
Of today’s must-haves,
But all I saw was you
Looking like you did
The day we got Christmas wrapped up
In a quick afternoon.
We laughed at our minor miracle!
Yes, your laugh.
I remember.
And that smile as broad as the sky
The color of your eyes.
I remember most your hair
Long, blonde, strong
So like you
That I couldn’t help but envy it
With the loving envy of good friends.
Such freedom in friendship
Is itself a miracle.

I blinked
And you were gone
Back into the crowd.