…For Everything

Got me feeling like Pele

Suddenly the words come easy.

This doesn’t have the feeling of farewell.

I think they’ve gotten familiar,

found ease in your visits-

you make them feel refreshed.

The daily routine of appearing

early with the birds outside

my window at their most expressive,

wore on them, made them shy,

to be so rushed-baby birds

pushed into flight. So used to being prodded,

resized. Finally settled

into with this temporary exercise.

It’s the knowing that helps,

knowing you’re there with your

eyes peered at the screen

allowing them to fall into you; all 30.

Your readings

always make it easy. So much ADD

so much information to digest

it’s a stretch for a poem to make the cut. 

You have me feeling like a pretty girl

on her prom night, ready for you. Excited,

nervous, wanted; this means everything

and will mean nothing. But I know that I deserve

this. My fingers, twisted branches

grip the pen, twist words for you. I reserved

my last one a thank you for everything, reposting,

sharing, commenting, donating, liking and disliking,

dressing your gallery windows with it, with you

I muddled through. 

Note: this is the 30th of the 30 poems in 30 days project. Can't thank you enough! 

Tupelo thanks you for all your donations,  http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/

Wrong Side

I can be sweet

as a prickly pear

cuter than a koala

bear, at my prickliest

a porcupine. Not a fine

feature, associated

with such creature whose

line you cross leaves you

with a pine or two

in your face.

Got work to do,

undo the threads

I hold like breath

and threaten

our closeness.

Bust open my closed

mess, destiny, cradle

you in my arms my child. 


Note: 2 more days left of my "write a poem a day" journey. Please donate and support independent, non-profit  http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/

Recover

There will always be women

I say this with pride even though

It is fatal to be a man or a woman

pure and simple; activate others

activate you. Stop looking

how to climb up

look ahead to get ahead,

be a womanly

man or manly woman.

Make it a habit- living, move

off my hunches

move so fast off my haunches

I discharge fumes.

Habit?

How many days must I do it

to finally have it?

Note: This is poem #27 of 31, getting it done! Arte es vida, support independent publishing, support tupelo press http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/

American Dreaming

 





 

When I feel like quitting

I feel my pulse, her blood

occupies my veins. She who’s

life started in a shack, her mama died

when she was young. Dad forever on one.

Became a sister-mom too, young.

She could barely read. Too, poor

to afford books, schoolmates too, mean

to share theirs, she couldn’t read. Sister-mom

torteando pound after pound of masa

for all the sibling mouth’s to feed, no time to read.

American dreams don’t depend on a page

they can travel by tongue, ignited

her, painted a little bit of red and white

atop her chronic blues. Single mom

expatriate in a land that welcomed

her with open arms into its factories

and production plants. Planted on her feet

she worked double shifts and sprouted blackberry

plump veins on the back of her legs. Hung a key

around my older sister-mom’s neck, 

we walked to school, books in our

hands feeling the weight of hope on our backs. 

When I feel like quitting I hear the echoes

of her voice “Even when I’m gone,

I’ll never leave you alone” writing

my fate across an illuminated screen never

felt so easy.

Note: if you like what you read and you know it, donate here http://tupelopress.wordpress.com/3030-project/ 
I thank you, Tupelo thank's you, poetry thanks you!