Ocean (Photo credit: ouistitis)

Strange it seems, but could it be

Easier to be someone else instead of just being me

Becoming you when with me I am not pleased

Oblivious to winds that roar o’er the waves of stirring seas

Sand between my toes

As I ponder not on recent woes

Walking along to pick up shells

While conjuring memories of my former selves

Who made their homes on decorated shelves

Aloof from imagined waves crying when all is not well 

To be out of the elements is to find a perfect spot

Far away from who I used to be but now am not

Dwelling on my befores that fulfill no more

Still I beckon their return when my now waxes sore

I must move on for the days are not long

In a world where wrong is right and right is therefore wrong

But truly do these two only in our minds exist

Or could it be our minds that choose these two to twist

Nevertheless we press on in search of that higher ground

Blocked by an eon’s horizon ’til eternity’s  sun goes down

Now lives faithfully as does before

I shall abide in them until time causes them to live no more

I at that time will with me and myself become one

Just as I Am when forever is come


May 17, 2013 Blog Dare Prompt – I felt so dizzy

Dizzy. My thoughts turned to hot flashes as well as several other symptoms of menopause that I now deal with at a somewhat early age. My symptoms made themselves known around seven to ten years ago, so while I am ‘used’ to it, I’m still not used to it. I truly believe that this feat may be quite the impossibility, but somehow you learn to live with it I guess because you actually have no choice as it is a part of life…which can be cruel at times…but like many other life changes that are much worse than what is natural, we still deal with it.

This poem can be read in several different ways ie., reading the entire poem at once, or reading only the first lines, or reading only the second lines. I used hot flashes as my muse, but the words as you’ll see will take on their own meaning for each reader such as any type of disorder that causes dizziness (as in my easily triggered but slight vertigo attacks), but also along the lines of emotions. Anyway, I hope you like it!

I felt so dizzy

 that night

The burning heat inside

was just too much


this time

I tried

  my best


to no avail


to call for help

But forced silence prevented

the words

Sadly, helplessly

they never escaped

Parched lips slightly apart

nothing being said

With only shallow labored breath

darkness as an envelopment

Like the waves of the sea

began to rise up

Before my very eyes

despite the cup of coolness

Beholden by another

through all attempts to quench

My flame

it blazed on


as if there were no aid

Calling a cease-fire


It went unheard

I was felled

By the black sword of darkness

into nowhere

This was the aftermath

in the midst of true fear

For all

that I

Would be no more but

suddenly, softly

Comes the light

returning to life

Again; I am





May 4, 2013 Blog Dare Post – Sounds of My Childhood

This will be a nice trip down Memory Lane…interesting how you can think back to some things and realize that you were just a tad too young to actually remember but still; you do. I find myself often talking to my older siblings about the past and they usually ask me how I could possibly remember these things because oftentimes the things that I distinctly remember took place well before I reached the age of four. That is why I liked this prompt because my best memories really are associated with sound – mostly music along with some common sounds that don’t really seem significant until you actually take yourself back in time. I’m not sure if this will rhyme or not but we’ll see when it’s done. Isn’t if funny how the five senses can literally bring the past smack dab into your present? Try to remember some common sounds from your childhood and post them comments. Here are the ‘sounds of my childhood…

I loved when Daddy said that we were going for a ride.

Everybody hopped in and waited for him to strap my big brother in

and fold his wheelchair to place it in the back as usual.

Our white utility van with the hunter green metal interior was

My playground…feigning a Sammy Davis Jr. inspired tap-dancing routine

just to hear my daily polished hard bottoms clang against the van floor.

But that was never enough.

Each impromptu dance medley was sure to include

a little Otis Redding stomp followed by that famous

James Brown side-slide as the beat and bass-line to “I’m Black and I’m Proud”

resonated mentally. No one could hear it but me.

Momma and my sisters cheered me on and Daddy would say,

“Go ahead and dance, baby!” At least until it was time for

Me to be seated and strapped in also.

The ride was fun as always, but much too short this time.

The van’s doors opened and slammed shut as I thought, “Whose house is this and why did Daddy say that

we were ‘here’ now?”  Momma walked through the doorway

Me on her hip, my distraught voice echoed through empty rooms,

This is not my house! “Yes it is, Punkin…it’s our new house now.” Momma

re-tied the bow in back of my white and yellow-flowered dress as she tried

To calm me despite my loud shouts that we were not at home and

We needed to go back!

The dance was over…I walked through each room

shouting that none of the rooms were mine…the spacious living room

reiterated  my exclamations by echo

I wanted

to go home! But later, I got over it.

The music played once more, and dancing began again.

Every Saturday, Little Stevie Wonder‘s ‘Fingertips’ and

The Supremes’ ‘You Can’t Hurry Love‘ among many

other Motown sounds turned sock-buffing hardwood floors

into a party. At night while holding on to the side of my crib,

I would dance even more as the Stylistics‘ “Rock and Roll Baby” made

its way to my ears from our transistor radio. I love my new home now.

We had brought our window unit from ‘home’…I loved to hear it run as it cooled the room. We also brought

our vacuum cleaner…its inflatable hose and loud roar frightened me. I ran from it.

But I grew more comfortable and much happier as I grew.

Especially on the Fourth of July as rock salt filled  the ice cream machine.

It hums to its own beat just before my favorite flavors cool my lips in the

Summer heat. Our own rendition of The Star Spangled Banner is the prelude

to pops and blasts from Fireworks City while the grill sizzles a mouth-watering meal.

Brook Benton, Sam Cooke, and The Platters lull me to sleep afterwards.

We could leave our windows opened back then.

Through the screen and with the night breeze blew in a nocturnally syncopated

Cicada composed chorus.

I awake to the sound of songs of praise while dishwater runs and the smell of breakfast wafting…

Momma loved to sing and speak.  The church choir could not compare…especially when she

was on program to do ‘The Creation’. No one spoke or even whispered – just listened – enthralled –

Her voice; a dynamic vessel traveling from the podium directly into the psyche of all.

I couldn’t wait for school the next day. Music was my favorite course. Orff music to be exact.

A through G are the most important letters in the alphabet; the source of my melodic moods and

Harmonically charged energy with each new song learned while my mallets hit the

Xylophone’s lower notes for a well-rounded sound. Piano lessons in the music lab after school prepared me

for my first recital where our group won second place…a hearing mind keeps three/four-time

During ‘The Waltz’. I was elated when my school added ballet class to our arts program.

This was my chance to dance even more…the chance to delicately plie – tondu – degage in time with Lully and Tchaikovsky.

What a wonderful time that was for me…as well as all of my other memories.

My baby sister’s newborn cries, “Happy Birthday Jesus” by Burl Ives, the shake of

my hoola-hoop under blue skies…seen and heard alike;

The sounds of my childhood bring the past into the present

in a brand new light.
















Blog Dare Prompt from April 24, 2013 – But they’re lying!

It didn’t take very long at first sight of this prompt (out-of-order yet again) for my mind to go back and revisit all the different opinions that I have read and personally heard on people’s views on homeschooling of which I am an avid believer. Though I have no problem with traditional education as long as it is done properly and despite the fact that I am a proud traditionally educated person, I have home schooled my children from day one.  While everyone is most certainly entitled to their own opinion, I have found over the years that some people occasionally have a tendency to state their opinions as if they have actually been asked for advice on the subject.

This post will be a slightly sarcastic expression of one who is in a reminiscent frame of mind after having experienced the art of home schooling and is thinking aloud in response to the ‘un-asked-for-but-given-anyway’ opinions from various peers who lacked the ability to respect one’s freedom of choice. Here goes!

But they’re lying!

I really was able to do this and do it well! My children are learning, and they actually look forward to getting up every morning to work on their lessons. Well, for the most part anyway…I guess everybody wants to shoot hooky from time to time – on certain days. But still, they are learning. Who said that I needed a degree to be able to teach my kids to read, write, and master the basics of arithmetic? It surely could not have been our city’s school system where a host of their teachers are hired with mere permits. Do we use textbooks? Of course we do – doesn’t everyone use documentation – to aid in the very attainment of an education?  Oh wow – who knew that kids today need to be familiar to some extent in technology? I wonder if  they were speaking of that keyboard with the little screen where my six-year-old likes to sit while exploring scientific facts and oncology .   If I’m not mistaken, it’s called a  computer and comes in quite handy when learning to spell…by urging the young ones to sound out and type in what they are searching for instead of  waiting for mommy to tell.

Well as it goes for socialization, that’s a lie too. My kids can hold a running conversation with just about anyone, yes –  including you!    The subject of the lack of socialization seems to be the most favorite lie of all, but I’m quite satisfied with the fact that my students know to answer me when it is their names that I call. They also understand that they must wait their turn and only move when it is time, this profound experience occurs quite often in stores, as we wait patiently in line.   Why do people tell these lies? I never said that they would forever be on lock-down…never leaving the house to see the light of day…sometimes we even enjoy a nice walk downtown. Unable to interact with peers – what balderdash! This is pure rot! How can this be possible considering the slew of cousins they’ve got?      Even something as simple as respecting another’s personal space – another well-beloved and deceitful deal, which proves to be totally untrue when a child is taught that  ‘thou shalt not steal’.

The last and best lie of all…the one where my children can’t have this thing that normal kids have – RECESS  – a little exercise and fun during the day. I really was thrown for a loop, but after a bit of observation I noticed that my children regularly engaged themselves in a seemingly natural activity called ‘play’!

Oh, how deprived they must be…living a life of separation and growing up out of sync! This exclamation makes me well aware that some people just start talking…severely lacking the consideration to at first think.   Is the absence of an electronic bell truly this dire? Was it a crime for me to decide that I would be the one to tell them how to react in the unfortunate case of a fire? Are my blackboards, erasers, and chalk simply not good enough? Are my rulers not twelve inches long, or are our test days not quite as rough?

I still haven’t figured out why this subject is so crucial to those who don’t know. Why knock what you don’t understand just because society tells you so? Despite the lies, I will continue with what works, but it’s good to know that I am not alone; there are still some who believe that manners, respect, charity, and learning starts at home.


For all the true teachers out there who are trying to make traditional education a valuable asset to today’s children, I thank you. I was able to have wonderful teachers during my young years and I will never forget their hard work and dedication.

By the same token, many parents choose to home school their children for various reasons and I feel that they deserve to be respected also. At the end of the day it should not matter which method of education a child receives as long as it works and the child benefits from it.

Thanks for reading!


The Day Before Mother’s Day

It has been four years since my mother passed away, but somehow it does not seem that long. The years have simply gone by in a flash although the first days after it happened were very difficult. It seemed that time moved rather slowly- painfully slow, and later on time began to fly and the next thing I knew, I had made it through the first year with my sanity somewhat still in tact.  Her birthday was on Dec. 13, my youngest son was born on Jan. 13, and she passed on Feb. 13…strange…I normally am not a ‘numbers’ person, but  the number thirteen has become quite significant to me now.

I thought that I would be sad and depressed when this time of year rolled around but that is not the case. The death of my parents had always been my greatest fear in not knowing whether I would be there to actually witness their last breath…I was not there although I had been with them both the day before.

The mind can be a very strong force in one’s life especially when that person is unwilling to face reality due to their greatest fear. I literally watched my parents dying gradually each day for many months but even up until the last day that I saw my mother in the hospital, and despite the telling dreams that I had which I assume were for the purpose of preparing me for the inevitable, my mind simply ‘put it away’ of course until it happened. An unnatural calm came over me as I casually informed my husband and then seven-year old daughter that momma was dead. That is how I said it – calm voice, “Momma is dead, I need to go to the hospital.” All while I hand pumped enough milk for my 4-week-old during my absence. Despite the reports from nurses that she would be okay, I still knew deep down that she would not leave that hospital as she came in. How does one know and not know at the same time? Well, I did. A couple of days beforehand, I was on the phone with her and my oldest sister. She was talking gibberish, (which was really big hint) that I ignored, and suddenly completely coherent, she told my sister good-bye. Then she went back to the gibberish talk and a chill went down my spine when she called out to her own mother and brother saying, “I’m ready!” My heart sank. And there was total silence on the phone for some time before my sister who was in the room with her took the phone and we hung up – my hands shaking like a leaf.

I am having a really hard time writing this. At first I was not going to write a Mother’s Day post, but something keeps telling me to do it through silent tears and despite this cruel discomfort that I didn’t even know I had. I guess it is to make a point and to help myself understand what has lain dormant in my heart for some time. Maybe it will help someone else too.

Several months before her transition, I had a dream (one of many) that let me know what would happen eventually. Both of my parents were plagued with health problems. My father lay helpless in the VA while my mom struggled but was still somewhat active. She was still walking, talking, etc., still  functioning with the exception of those days when nothing was normal. (another hint) Anyway, the dream went like this…I am holding my moms hand, my oldest sister is holding my father’s hand and we are high up on some type of platform (it was blue) and felt like those inflated moonwalkers and slides that kids play on.

I still don’t know what that meant, but we were surrounded by clouds and blue skies overhead although we seemed to be inside of somewhere. Mom and I seemed to be in a hurry as we were jogging along trying to get to this wooden door, so I looked back to see that my sister and dad had come through the door behind us. All of a sudden as mom and I are right in front of this door, she wriggled her hand out of mine (I was holding very tightly) and she said, “I’m here now, I gotta go!” The door opened, she ran through, I saw clouds and blue skies, and the door quickly closed in my face. I could hear my dad struggling on the unstable platform as he tried to run…my sister was holding his hand and I grabbed the other. Upon reaching that same door that my mom went through, it opened again as my sister and I still holding his hands swung him into the clouds and the door closed. I looked down to see that there was a clear place on the platform and as I looked through it, I could see my other three sisters standing there. I don’t know what they were saying. I woke up. My parents died 4 months apart… I call both of their dying days their ‘new birthdays’.

I can’t help but think that she decided to go first because she simply could not bear to watch my dad die as he did. If he got sick, she did too and vice versa. One could not fall without the other, but after over fifty years who would?

For many weeks afterwards, I continued to have a series of extremely realistic dreams so much that upon awakening, I had to remind myself that my parents were no longer on this earth, (It still happens to this day) but that night at the hospital when my daughter and I went to see my mother’s body (I didn’t know whether to take her or not, but she was not taking no for an answer), I combed her hair for the last time, cried, and my daughter sang a song as the family stood around saying their last words. Once home and in bed, I was freezing and my husband held me in a fierce embrace contemplating the ‘breakdown’. It didn’t happen. I actually began to go back and forth – dozing and waking right back up. I distinctly remember not being completely asleep when the strangest thing happened. Lost in thought about how to go to tell dad (he seemed to already know), I felt my mom’s hand cupped on the side of my face like one does when preparing to whisper a secret. She spoke directly into my ear (not a whisper – I heard clearly) saying, “I wanted to go, now you handle it.” Of course I called out to her, “Momma?!” She sounded as if she was in a hurry. “You heard me…I wanted to go now you handle it from now on!” I immediately awoke my snoring husband to tell him what had just happened…he understood, I thanked God and slept peacefully with no dreams.

I made the arrangements with some help from my siblings…the funeral was beautiful…not much standing room it was so full…I kept checking the side mirror en route to the burial and never did see the end of the line up which practically wrapped around the entire cemetery.

A lot happened in the days that followed. After two weeks, the breakdown came, but I recovered quickly as I heard my little girl awake. I am sure that her songwriting began in order to make her way through her pain, and she has the voice of a songbird. We talk often, because I know that she was unable to grasp the true meaning of what happened. She was the strongest little soldier ever until they closed the casket. I heard my baby say that she didn’t want them to close the box on Dorothy Doll (That was her nickname for her grandma as Baby Doll  the nickname given to her by my mom.) I didn’t hold her when she began to cry…she covered her little face with the program and let her tears flow although she was quiet. I froze – unable to comfort my own child as she leaned on my sister. I felt like such a failure right then and this still bothers me now. Herein lies ‘my help’  the true purpose for this post. I feel as if I abandoned her that day and she has never gotten over it although she has never said anything about it, but I know what I have to do now. We have to cry together because I don’t think that has ever happened. I have tried to be strong for her, but I feel now that this was a mistake. I  realize now that in my attempts to be strong, I am turning to stone…could it be that I am trying to keep my own pain at bay? She was extremely close to my parents but she is able to open up more now that she is a bit older…she dreams now. I thank my mom for that.

My mother had written two poems that she wanted included on her funeral program…I will be sure to post them. She was quite the poet and I thank her for passing that down to me.

I made it through the post. I guess that  my purpose for it was to say that I owe my daughter an apology and that I don’t actually feel that emptiness that people talk about when a loved one dies. Yes, I know that I cannot hug, kiss, or talk on the phone with her daily as we did before, but in a way, I feel closer to her and dad now than I did while they went through all the sickness. Their better days were already behind them and now their days are complete bliss. Of course I still have sad days, basically from what she and dad went through but my mom was also a dreamer. I thank her for passing that down to me also, and I still tell her Happy Mother’s Day…I truly believe that she hears me.

The latest dream that I had (day before yesterday), we spent the whole day together and she looked beautiful. Once again, I had to tell myself that she is not here. Nevertheless, I am a living witness that ‘weeping may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning’.


May 5, 2013 Blog Dare Prompt – Before you even begin…

I am skipping over May 4th for now until I finish it on paper. I am still jotting my thoughts on paper for this one while also searching for a particular image to put with it, so the fourth  entry will be out-of-order. I think that it’s a little weird how some poems come to me in ‘freestyle’ mode, but others have to be dealt with in the most absolute opposite way. These are of course more difficult to publish because of all the work, research, and heart that truly creates the essence of the finished work. With that being said, please excuse my skip-over for now.

The prompt for May 5th immediately caught my eye, and I knew that this post would be in the form of a rap-like lyrics. Though I’m definitely not a rapper I still enjoy writing like this from time to time, so here goes!

Before you even begin…

Let me stop you right there

Whatever it is that you’re gonna say

I don’t even care

I don’t mind shootin’ the breeze

with a little small talk

But when it turns into that other sh*t

I’m gettin’ up and I’m gonna walk

Away from the he said she said

Little girl middle school crap

Who cares what they said about me

I sure don’t – so it’s a wrap

I don’t sit around all day

Worryin’ about what somebody else thinks

Only my opinion of myself counts

So this stuff you’re bringin’ me stinks

My momma always told me this…

I know for sure she was not wrong

“Baby, beware of the dog

that always brings you a bone.”


I’ll make it plainly clear for you

The fact that you always know what was said

Means that you had to be talkin’ too

Or maybe not

Makes absolutely no difference to me

I just happen to find it strange that

With them is where you often seem to be

For somebody who claims to be offended

By what was said behind my back

As if you have done me a favor

Thinkin’ I’ll cut you some slack


Believe me, I’m hip to this game

I’m supposed to listen to you and get pissed at them

No change, it’s always been the same

That’s why I never fall for it

Say what you wanna – I won’t stress

Who said either one of you were important enough

To get me caught up in some mess

This is what I have learned

When folks talk – you must be doin’ somethin’ right

You apparently have nothing better to do

Than speak on me all day and night

Don’t get me wrong – I do appreciate

This bone that you once again bring me

It only proves the mere fact

That the important one must be me

So when you go back to give your report

On my reaction, feelings or lack thereof

Make mention that I asked who cares

I only have feelings for the people I love

I can tell that you’re  anxious to leave now

Go on back and tell them what I said

I’m sure the conversation will be interesting

But know that you have been read

This should help you in the future

The very next time that we meet

Before you even begin

Watch your mouth, cause talk is cheap




“The Door” Part II


It wasn’t very long before we arrived when He said, “Come on in!”

As we entered Mom and Dad told me, “You don’t have to worry here, there is no sin.”

They sang a song with lyrics saying, ‘all is good, all is well;  we are believers, our souls are safe –

we did not fail!’

I had never heard music for a song such as this; 

giving the message that from here to there is only separated by an abyss.

Pleasantly, the song went on while colorful flowers swayed and hummed;

until a glowing angel flew by playing on a harp that strummed,

“This is where you leave everything that you ever feared!” 

I immediately found this to be true when it all disappeared! I was so gratefully amazed, but not by that only;

another angel came fast,  his wings whispering softly, “You’ll never again be lonely.”

The fourth door opened, and the Lord’s table was set;

I was the guest of honor, and all of my needs were met.

Satiated from life’s fruit, I am fulfilled;

a fifth door swings opened to unending multitudes declaring to be healed.

Totally unaware of how much time had passed

I didn’t even care how long this trip would last, but Mom turned to me and said with a smile,

“Time is no longer an issue, though this time is only for a while.”

I can’t say that I was upset, I just wanted to stay;

Dad informed me that I was free to do so, but today was not the day.

They led me to one last door, the one through which I left

Not needing to say goodbye ever again,


I was back to myself…R.I.P. Mommy and Daddy in Paradise!


Poem #28 – Memphis 1978

I’m not crazy, true story!


Bright saucer zooms down one night in July

I didn’t know whether to run or just cry

All our neighbors at once stood in awe

Of what we witnessed, not believing – but surely saw

We were  informed when Dad burst in from work

Urging us to see what he saw first

As if the thing followed on his way home

I can only wonder how he felt being alone

We saw it come straight down from the sky…stopping to hover in mid-air

But as quick as lightening, it was no longer there

Looking left, we heard it humming right over our cove

Big, bright, menacing, and frighteningly bold

With a noise, it changed from disk to four smaller orbs

Red, yellow, blue, green, unanimously alternating and more

No one on the cove said a word as if in a trance like state

In the blink of an eye, another change… the four glowing balls were now eight

Unable to describe unprecedented sounds that these blinking orbs made

Changing colors and formations intermittently, they put on quite a display

Some of us began to chatter and point at the situation at hand

Just before the eight orbs in a second became the disk again

Hovering once more  for a bit,  and beaming in all of its might

It’s flash could be seen and heard, vertically zooming  up into the night

That very night on the news, the reporter had the nerve to put out

A statement saying that it was just a weather balloon, and there was nothing to worry about

School the next day was a blast, we all gave our own personal views

On what we had seen the night before, while laughing at the guy on the news

I shall never forget that night…that scene is forever etched in my mind

The scenario was a tad bit much…I was only eight years old at the time

I have heard many stories like mine…some with even more to say

Could I too have been abducted…explaining my unusual ways?















Poem #27 – Do’s and Don’ts



This one came out a little weird. Not rhyming at first but changed towards the end. That as well as the context gave me a title after the fact. I guess it could go for a short bio too as all statements are true. I just wanted to add a little humor to cut through some of the darkness that is my real inspiration for much of my writing although the dark poems are a bit better in my humble opinion… just trying something different. Anyway, here it is!








I never learned to swim




I don’t even know how to float




You will never catch me at a pool




Or at the edge of a lake




I know exactly how to stay in my place




Which is nowhere near deep waters




I don’t know how to make good biscuits




I know all the steps but




Somehow they never come out of the oven






Baked Goods Heaven

Baked Goods Heaven (Photo credit: Renée S. Suen)


I know exactly how to stay in my place




And keep my teeth at the same time




I refuse to drive on the expressway




At least I won’t do it alone




My sense of direction is practically non-existent




I would never find my way home




I know exactly how to stay in my place




Which is to sit on the passenger’s side and hope for the best




I have never been on an airplane




I have an irrational fear of heights




I don’t like the idea of being off of the ground




Nowhere comes to mind




When thinking of places to visit that require a plane ticket




I know just how to stay in my place




When I want to travel, I read a book




A roller coaster ride for me is just a fantasy




That is the only possible way




For me to make this accomplishment without




Turning green, throwing up, or dying from sheer terror




Once again, off  of the ground is a no – no




So is moving at very high speed




I will continue to stay in my place




And be happy for others who enjoy what I don’t do




I have no problem with slightly living




Vicariously through




As long as I am satisfied with myself




No problem should be posed for you




I know where my place is and I will stay there




My pride is stored on a shelf




I will simply stick to what I do know




Because I am good enough at it to share





























Poem #19 – Invisible

They wear their smiles

to hide genuine dislike

For the lot of them

The normal people

The ones who smile because  they are happy

They flaunt their riches

to cover true disgust

For the lot of them – the regulars

The ones who can’t afford to be rich, but are thankful

They use their power

to disguise their bigotry

For the lot of them – the hopefuls

The ones who have no clout but don’t really care because someone loves them

The lot of them

Who are they

Where do they live

How do they keep up

What will become of them

Their names are



















That is who they are, where they live, and how they keep up

The normals

The regulars

The hopefuls

The lot of them

They give themselves no labels or status

They check themselves

They love themselves

They give and receive

They believe in

And trust themselves

Even when they don’t

It matters not to

The lot of them…

Will survive


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