My Loving Parent, Guides my daily actionShapes my choices and decisionsTo my utter satisfaction. The voices withinWhich one do I hear?The self-critical blaming voice,Or the loving one that is near.Reacting with fear and self-doubt The adult child...
(Authors Note: A short poem about a dismissive phrase I've heard a few times, sometimes from well-meaning people.)Get over it: three of the ugliest words I have heard, spoken only by those who cannot hear the heart. I first heard it from a preacher. I forget the...
(Author’s Note: This short poem refers to a couple of similar childhood events and my thoughts at the time. It is about daddy-Monster's temper and the effect it had on one of my brothers and the rest of us.) I am eight or nine years old;my reckless brother is one year...
I see them. I saw them even as a child, but I don’t have to not see them anymore. That was then, that was the times – that’s what everyone did. Then. But I am now, in a future you could not/would not go to. As I step through yet another portal in my mind, again a...
Autrefois, il fut un temps où les livres étaient écrits sur des parchemins, matériau parfois cher et rare. Face à cette rareté, il arrivait que les copistes effacent le premier texte pour récupérer le parchemin et écrire un nouveau texte par-dessus. De nos jours, des...
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