Poetry

Résumé Honnête

In the beginning was education, information, and college, where knowledge, skills, and aptitude were viewed as keys to fulfillment upon commencement…

Where reality proved that degree was, in actuality, worthless. The notion that a promotion was in sight…

I hope? Nope. Years dragged on, more grueling than schooling had ever been. Idealism became realism, and enthusiasm turned to suspicion that I was fooling myself…

Into believing someone else’s dream. Lesson learned, and crash-landing notwithstanding, demanding truth, I made a new plan to reflect, learn to earn self-respect. Esteem is within as I begin this new experience, where intelligence and common sense rule…

With wisdom and white hair.

Report This…!

Reports support process, but fall short and thwart the rapport of doers extorted by thinkers who don’t exhort, but retort unkindly.Data is imported, exported, sorted, contorted and even distorted as a last resort. Maybe it’s time to abort this mission statement and sport a new portmanteau. Brainstorm to cavort our repertoire, remove goalposts and drill down, down, down. Here, report this…!

Be Yourself…by Yourself

Be Yourself, they said,
You’ll attract the right people.
Or no one at all.

Weak Side

Your love gave me strength,
To move forward with courage.
But who has my six?

Sinking Feeling

World keeps moving. She cannot.
Earthly bowels grip her core.
Gravity pins her to this spot.
Heart implores, fight no more.

Contemplation

Winners never quit.
Know when to cut your losses.
Hold, fold, walk away?

Vortex

Three a.m. panic,
Anger, frustration and fear.
Overwhelming day.

Digital Embers

Monitor frozen.
Mouse clicking vanished cursor.
Dreaded shades of blue.

Brainstorm

Thoughts overwhelming.
Brain fog forms swirling vortex,
Wrecks inspiration.

Drain

Siphon, bleed, consume.
Drop by drop, life is drawn out.
Parasitic friend.

Is it Friday yet?

Another bagged lunch.
Freeze, nuke, make an awful mess.
Tired of leftovers.

Phantom Benefits

Future hopes and dreams
Steal our happiness today.
Broken promises.

Spring Storms

Wash car. Mow lawn. Weed.
Rain all weekend, what’s the point?
Spring storms, FTW.

Winter Decision

Icy roads, warnings.
But the walls are closing in.
It’s decision time.

Nutshell Therapy

Get over yourself.
Really. Just get over YOU.
Nutshell Therapy.

The Reason
From Oklahoma to Nevada

You gambled many years ago on love ‘neath a moon of silver.
The ‘pot a giant mixed blessing overwhelming the mighty Sierra range.
I was a baby and you were a schoolgirl, a mere nineteen years older.
Yours, with your eyes, hair and skin, but another mother’s to raise.

To everything, there is a season.
For every tear, there is a reason.

I grew, a chubby duckling, out-of-place in a world of elegant class.
A “Sooner” a century after the land run, surviving, to my heart true.
Southern hospitality? Bible-belt hypocrites? Benefactors? Clash!
Creative talent, so abundant…could these have been gifts from you?

In every time and every season,
Each turn brings purpose, reason.

I was that jackpot. For its loss do you grieve?
In your decision do you still believe?

Mom-n-Dad called me their “jackpot,” too! Yes, I knew they loved me.
My God in Heaven answers my prayers, helps me stay in the sunshine.
Though sadly not knowing you and yours, I’m fulfilling my destiny.
May your journey bring you the peace my life has brought to mine.

Through all time and many a season,
Together in spirit, may we find Divine Reason.

Still, Small Voice

Buzz, clang, ring.
Hit the snooze.
Hello morning.
Snooze? You’ll lose!

Bark, meow, Mom!
Feed, fume, fuss,
Rush, roll, run…
Missed the bus!

Buzz, squeal, ring,
Oh, that phone!
Multi-tasking,
Can I go home?

Honk, shout, rage!
Morn ’til night,
At my age?
Can this be this right?

Peace, Be still.
Hush, My child,
All is well.
Let’s talk a while.

The Other Place
Summertime in Oklahoma

Sweltering, suffocating, burning heat.
Blisters bubbling on my feet.
Temperatures rising higher, higher,
Energy draining, Lord, I’m so tired!

Just one drop of water on my tongue,
Into a mud hole I’d gladly run,
No rest for the weary, I once read…
Where the “Worm dyeth not,” my Bible said.

But God, all my life, to You I prayed
“Jesus, come into my heart,” I said,
Of my sin, You promised to forgive me,
And take me to Heaven with You to be.

So why am I feeling so dangerously hot?
By the gates of pearl, why am I not?
Wait, there, I see it! On the highway, a sign…
Whew! Oklahoma City. Miles? Seventy nine!

Only Lonesome, Not Lonely
To those far from home, missing loved ones…

“Lonesome” is missing loved ones, dear.
Longing for their heartening embrace.
The pain is often hard to bear,
Craving a familiar voice, or face.

But alas, there is another heartache.
An agony, far worse, exists.
“Loneliness” is that empty feeling
Of having no one one to miss.

When lonesome, you yourself may console,
Imagining the day you’ll reunite.
Memories treasured in your soul,
Will see you through, day and night.

But loneliness will leave you vacant,
Like a gnawing hunger pang.
It leaves the spirit weak, reluctant
To reach out and love and live again.

So if you’re sad and missing someone,
Rejoice! How fortunate are you
To have someone for which to long,
Memories, hopes, to see you through.