Broken Pieces of My Heart

I walk along a patched old sidewalk and
Pick up small pieces I find along the way
Pieces of my broken heart, tiny, cracked, old
Worn out beyond the counting of years.
And I wonder how to fix these pieces
They seem beyond repair or hope, they
Lack the energy they once held for loving.
Now, I hold my hand upon that center of my
Chest where the remains of my heart reside.
I try to keep what is left there intact
Though, if I looked my hand would come away
Stained with red called grief, pain, agony.
I do not comprehend any way to mend this
Sad, old, broken heart exeplified by these
Broken pieces along the sidewalk and what is left
Inside my lonely chest. One step at a time
I make, trying to miss the broken black places
Of a sidewalk with too many hard memories
Of its own to deal with in the hard light.
I cannot find a way to heal.
I cannot find a way through the memories.
The very memories I once screamed that
They could not take away from me...
Keep me lying awake, wet-faced in the night.
A mother should not have babies who
Are victims of thieves in the night.
And the babies were of ages where they
Were fully able to be cognizant
Aware of being ripped away from me!

Oh Brother! Thou Art A Bother!

You I have loved and watched over
Since about the time I turned three years of age
Are a worry to me know as we both age.

I worry about your health
While you worry about losing your hair,
And your youth, and your money.

I worry about your ability to keep working
To pay your singular way in the world
As you try to keep it all "juggled and afloat".

I know that I cannot take your troubles from you
And place them on my own full plate,
And you would never allow this to take place.

Why could you not stay a sweet, happy, little boy
And why could I not retain my great energy of old?
Then, I could just shake my head and laugh at you!

You art a bother, yes you certainly are.
But, at the end of these days I am glad for this:
You art my brother, dear and beloved all these years.

The Room at the House of Pies


This morning as I sat across from my spouse breakfasting
In the front room at the House of Pies where oft we eat,
Two tables behind my love caught my eyes and ears.
So I sat there and shamelessly - eavesdropped.

At one booth, sat two diners seated on just one side,
A caring mother and her grown daughter.
First one would caress then the other
Would lovingly touch back.

Daughter chortled on happily about her girl-roomies,
And a boy-roomie who had irritated all of them.
He had summarily been advised of his terrible
Transgressions against the whole gender, and moved out.

Then mother spoke of her next visit to daughter.
And when they left, mother was embraced as they walked.
Cherished, was what came to my mind.
Their feelings were mutually alive and well.

At the other table a young mother and her toddler
Sat across the booth from the young mother's - parents possibly.
These parents, both stiff, seeming to express disdain,
Held themselves awkwardly taut and distant. No love shown here.

The parents possibly grandparents seemed to say,
"We are fragile, uncomfortable, and scared of life."
Their hearts seemed to lack warmth, their tongues chimed a sad mimicry.
They really could not love a young mother and child.

Oh Rosebud we call Chloe

Oh Rosebud sweet for sure
You are prescious in our care.
Your mother is not mean my dear
Her job just never ends you see.
She protects the sweetness
Of your breath
The eyes that make you smile
The legs that make you dance.
Her care never ceases
It just grows older
As do you. You see?
As you bloom, she fades.
And she does it all - for you.
So tho you doth complain m'dear
Your mother you need not fear.
She will keep you safe until
One day you just might
Need to care for her!

Alex Step Outside

When the sky turns cloudy
And folks are irritating
Step outside, dear Alex
And look again at the world.

When you look at me
Who do you see?
Sometimes I step outside, too
And you might just not see - me.

The "me" you see may look gloomy
My face may look - oh, so sad
But, look again, dear
I stepped right outside that self!

It is quite a trick
But easy as can be
You simply shed your skin
And leave it be awhile.

Look at me standing here
As I feel upset at something.
Now, look again, I've left
My gloomy self behind.

And all it took was ....
To SMILE.

Zeus with Emily

One large, one small
One old, one young
These two grand dogs of mine.
One is wiry and gray black silver
The other a rosy shade of tan
And white and silken.
Missing all those who went
Before these grand pets.
Missing my own beloved
Furry loved ones.
Two nephew dogs I have
As well. So sleek their coats.
One grey one black
Both funny and frisky boys.
Now, Zeus who yips
And Emily who growls
As if she doth protest
Tho we know she is
A Sweetie Pie,
Are my comic relief.
They are my gentle
Warm, pettable porters
Of full acceptance.
I can enter a worn out
Depleted old woman
Ready for the manure
Pile I'm certain awaits me,
And one moment with these
Two funny loving pooches
Fills me with such hope
That I will make it
Through one more day.

would I were a camel

Feels as if
I've been to
- - - -
and back again.
I feel I have
more miles
on my heart
than all the cars
I have owned
combined.

Why I went
to all those
sad, dryed up
places, who knows?
Not me, for sure.

When a human
Being gets dumped
And tries to be
reclaimed, as it were,
Only to be rejected
over and over, and over again
it 's like
visiting dry holes,
old spent wells
of former sustenance.

One human being
all alone
could expire
from such a drought
as I sometimes
find myself in.
would I were a camel
or dromedary,
not needing a drink.