Women

To the Child I May or May Not Ever Know
To the child I may or may not ever have -
There are things I want for your life.
And here they are:

I want you to learn mathematics and art,
And your dad wants you to learn history and economics.
This is why we will look after you in the summers to keep you learning when school is out.

I want you to sit in the church pew and behave,
Until you learn the songs of Jesus (Psalms)
And come to a deep understanding of God.

I want you to look at the world with wonder,
Until you first look upon the world with dismay,
And come back to that wonder for healing and inspiration whenever you can.
It is hard not to get stuck in dismay as an adult.

I want you to be independent -
In thought, and from your parents, and from your peers,
And as much as possible from the system (matrix).

I want you to sneak your first booze,
With your cousins Olive and Oscar
And have a good time.

I want you to be beautiful - inside and out,
And realize that even when teenage girls or boys
Might pass you up for some other person
That you are beautiful.

I want you to know that there are aliens in the universe
And that they have probably been here
And that they probably care about man, but some of them don’t.

I want you to understand that war is an ugly thing,
But that there is just war,
But that history often looks back on war and sees that it could have been avoided,
And that people died for no good reason.

I want you to understand the kings of this world do things that are difficult to understand.
That I have sought to understand this world, but it is complex.
And maybe it is not for us to know everything.

I want you to seek knowledge and truth and learning
And not be satisfied with an easy answer.

I want you to think about how long mankind has been here - on earth,
And think about your ancestors and those that have passed,
And about the ancients who influenced our ways.
And the Greeks, and the Romans, and the Hebrews.

I want you to know we live in a material world, with instant access to everything,
And the importance of patience, and love, and simple things.

I want you to be free of any kind of mental illness, because I have it,
While it is a gift, it has also been a curse,
And I would choose to rid myself of it.

I want you to be a person of prayer, because prayer works,
And it is the right thing to do if you respect God.

I want you to smile and make people laugh,
Because I already know you have a beautiful smile and laugh.
It is one of the things I love best about your father, and about other people.
Smiles and laughs are addictive.
It is the kind of addiction you should have above others that you should not have.

I want you to know that some good people are tortured, or their head is lopped off,
But that God is there and not remote from those locations.
And that is something for you to search out, understand, and come to terms with
As part of your journey in life.

I want you to get and seek a challenging life,
So you will grow and develop work ethic and solve problems for others.
If you encounter pain and struggle, that you will overcome and grow,
That there will be mentors in your life that have done the same.

I want you to avoid drinking the Kool-aid, and we will make sure you do,
And steer clear of left-right methodologies or other simple mantras.

I want you to develop within yourself and through hard work your life purpose,
And not seek something frilly to keep you fulfilled.
We are not sprinkled with fairy dust.

I want you to stay off your phone or implement at the dinner or luncheon table
No matter what others are doing around you,
And spur on conversation or sit in silence and watch others.

I want you to understand where material items come from,
And that we are surrounded by technology,
And to support common-sense sustainability.

I want you to understand energy and how it drives the world,
And how it converts from one form to another in nature,
And how mankind has harnessed it.

I want you to know that mathematics and science are everywhere,
From the leaf on every tree, to the vacuum space in the universe,
From microscopic organisms, to macroscopic systems,
That once you dive through the boundary of our skin - there is another universe altogether.
That this is awesome.

I want you to know we love you, dad and I, even though we don’t show it sometimes.
That we love each other (your parents) and that things are good right now as I’m writing this.
That love is a verb, because it requires action,
And it is something not to take for granted, but something you can learn to rely on in a good family.
Work to have a good family when you grow up.

To the child I may or may not ever have.
These are the things I want for your life.

Ode to Being Regular
Ode to being regular.

For I chant in the shower
My favorite song from Disney -
“Written in these walls
are the stories
that I can't explain
I leave my heart open
but it stays right here
empty for days"

Eating lattes on the run,
And Breathing work between
sips of wine,
I tear the pages of my mind
and share them only with my kind
It doesn’t have to make sense
The situation isn’t that intense.

Ode to being regular.

Piano lessons since five.
I trim my bangs
with those same fingers!
I use the mute button
on the TV remote -
I silence the competition
From my thoughts.
Gimme something more.

And by the way…
Ode to being regular.

Tell me out loud -
That I am worth something.
That piano lessons
Make a difference,
Or that my bangs
Give me an appeal -
Appeal like Marilyn Monroe
had.
She’s a has been.
I’m here.

Can you see my frustration?
Who made it popular
To be fabulous?
Normal used to be a thing.
A thing guys liked.
A reason to breathe.
So anyway... I’m going for it.

Ode to being regular.

She Wears Black Well
She wears black well.
Everyday, black.

She offers a smile whenever someone sees her eye to eye.
Her mouth wears staying lipstick
Of deep color.

Her interest is not only in herself
But in others.
Her soul is not offensive.

Her voice is assured, never trembling.
She seems clever, enchanted, attached.

And she wears black well.
Everyday, black.

With flowers in her hair.
Optimism on her breath.
Work upon her hands.

And darkness in her character.

For she wears black well.
Everyday, black.

Toast to that Just Right Lipstick
Red nail polish that also sparkles
And that just right lipstick -
They stand out just enough
And pretty too
Like my hips
The ones he holds onto
When we’re making love.
Women do many things men do
But they do their own things
Some dive into books
Playing part in solving mysteries
And undergoing dramas
Of injustice.
I love to love and get love back
I want his attention
All over my shape
My hurts and wounds
And spending time making me laugh.
Drama muds through my veins -
Part of the core of who I am
Slow-going and thick
Like a hot summer day
So she makes iced tea
Or strawberry lemonade
With fresh fruit
To make things more acceptable.
Women tell things
Some bare all
Others keep secrets
Still others hide altogether.
Life is a maze
It's interesting that way
“Okay” we tell ourselves
Everything is okay
With yesterday and today
It’s all spilt milk -
That part that wasn’t a success
That part where I got lost
So she raises her glass
And toasts the womanhood within herself.

Tambourine Girl
She was free
So she banged her hips against the air
With the tambourine at her side.
Toe tapping mattered, her wrists too.
My heart and Her gut were in rhythm.
Her movement mattered.
I loved her wild.
I loved because of her.

Dreaming of Blueberries
She wrinkles her lips dreaming of blueberries
How does one dream of blueberries when a babe?
Only knowing of the suckling of the breast,
And the warm pure mama’s milk, summery, gold.

She dabbles in the dreams of her ancestors,
Her mother, her father, her Italian greats and English roots.
She dreams of cinnamon sticks and galloping horses,
Windy days and stormy rains, meadows and great big oak trees.
All the things we would like to see in Heaven.

Dream on, dream until your dreams come true.
As we age a little, we have freedom and duty,
We wake up for life with a readiness about us,
While we sleep – we plan, we pine, we heal.

Sleeping beauty, she schemes and projects,
Onto a radiant platform left by her forefathers.
Kissing the blossoms, batting the eyelashes,
With no fear, she is soon ready to wake and triumph.

A Quilt for My Mother
When I learn to sew
I will make
My mother a quilt
For she is a quilter
Making everyone else quilts
She deserves one made for her
With love.

I’ll scan photos
Of her favorite people
Into fabric and stitch them in,
Her daughters
And husband passed,
Her sis, Her bro, Her dad
Her mother passed,
Grandkids Olive
And Oscar,
Her walking friends
Her sewing friends,
People are the fabric of her life.

But mostly vibrant colors
With a splash of black and white
Maybe something muted,
All in good taste
Because she has good taste,
She always knows what she wants
She’s a decision maker
And I’ll stitch that too
Somehow or another
Into her good quilt.

Stitches to piece together hardship -
An overcoming thread for that,
Stitches to piece together loss -
A thread of laughter and fun for that,
Stitches, stitches, stitches
Because mom always makes life fit,
And there’s a patch for this and a patch for that,
And she passes that onto others,
Now I’ll patch her right back.

When I learn to sew
I will make
My mother a quilt
For she is a quilter
Making everyone else quilts
She deserves one made for her
With love.

She Likes Audrey Hepburn
She likes Audrey Hepburn,
Miss Stephanie,
And She has the appeal
Just like that lady.

We always strive to be the things we like
And all I can say is that She has class
Like Ms Audrey
And her striving is not for naught.

For I strive to be like Her, Stephanie,
She knows how to serve up a good time
With attention to all the finer details
She cares.

She makes pretty look easy.
Style, thick eyebrows
Careful dress
Italian-English accents.

She’s a darling
And a carefree laugh with Her
Is soul medicine
Worth a double order of the finest drink.

I know Her
Soft but fierce
Affected by life
But guarding her heart always.

Feminine.
Strong.
Stubborn.
Oriented.

She likes Audrey Hepburn,
Miss Stephanie
And She has the appeal
Just like that lady.

We always strive to be the things we like
And all I can say is that She has class
Like Ms Audrey
And her striving is not for naught.

For I strive to be like Her, Stephanie,
She knows how to serve up a good time
With attention to all the finer details
She cares.

Curly Headed Madams
It swirls out of my head,
Down passed my nape,
Frizz and soft-tempered curls,
In a world of their own,
They cast the die.

There are men who love,
And men who love tresses,
They are not the same,
A wild mane plays a lovers game -
Curly Haired Devotion.

I am having an affair with
Frizz and soft-tempered curls,
In a class of their own,
Ginger curls,
Gray curls,
Blond curls,
Brunette curls,
Black curls,
Whole Curly-headed madams.

"Madam?"
"Holla my lady!"
"Hey woman!"
"Love your curls!"
"Madam?"

In a class of their own,
Ginger curls,
Gray curls,
Blond curls,
Brunette curls,
Black curls,
Whole Curly-headed madams.

Something Outside of Myself
I get my typewriter out
And it says to me, “Push my buttons.”
This is what I type:
Psychosis wipes away the tears
Of frozen words.
You say, “She’s possessed!”
But that does not capture the meaning.
Words are spectrums -
Not concrete shapes.
I say, “She’s also on the spectrum
Of inspired -
Something outside of herself causes
Her to dance, to tick.
"If it’s not black or white,
Then it’s gray?”
No! What we’re talking about
Isn't even colors.
It’s shades - or shadows really
And how they appear
And disappear.
Mental illness is a bad choice of terms.
I got issues - you got issues.
That’s it!
And hell no! - I don’t want
Your issues instead of mine.
I have abstract thoughts
That have broken me from the
Wrist ties that keep us locked away,
And from reasoning and speaking.
I’ve slipped away enough times
To know I don’t do any kind of
Cocktail that will make me slip again.
It’s a question I’ve faced -
Whether to have a daughter that
Might be a duplicate of me.
I would protect her.
Oh glorious! I’ve climbed a mountain
Before and given a speech to no one.
Oh dreadful! I’ve nailed a semi-truck
And only by God’s grace stand here now.
Oh police! Oh naked in terror
Running down the street.
Sheer terror makes my rides
Not worth any set of dollar bills.
I am older than I look.
I’ve been possessed and inspired!
At war and brought about peace!
I am known in the spirit world
And I have been anointed.
Oil has glazed down my head - my crown.
I put the typewriter down and speak.
I said psychosis wipes away the tears of frozen words.
That cocktails can free us from our prisons.
If you zero in on thousands of years what are ladies still talking about?
The glorious, the dreadful, and the police.
Inspiration, war and peace.
Cocktails, the spirit world, my issues - her issues.
Protecting their daughters.
The woman’s shadow has always been there, it never disappears.
But almost all shadows are worth chasing after.
Something outside of herself causes
Her to dance, to tick.
"If it’s not black or white,
Then it’s gray?”
No! What we’re talking about
Isn't even colors.
It’s shades - or shadows really
And how they appear
And disappear.