Own It

I was a little teapot growing up.

Still short and stout, my shape is rather round.

When I was twelve, I filled a bra (D-cup).

I thought upon my future and I frowned.

I feared that single life would be my fate,

that I would live my days a lonely Miss.

I always was embarrassed by my weight.

All reassurances I would dismiss.

But as I hit my stride, men came to call.

Yes, even ones who have a bod that kills.

Know being fat is no excuse to bawl.

Just own it! Go unleash some chills and thrills!

Dear…it turns out that men don’t mind the fat…

so just be happy where your body’s at!


For Dr. Bradley


I’m not sure how many times my doctor’s saved my life.

I lost track the day it hit thirteen.

Time and time again, I’ve had to trust him with a knife.

Harder days my body’s never seen.

When I’m in his office he is always waiting there.

When I’m in the hospital, it’s rounds.

Often, he has stayed past eight administering care,

never having left the clinic grounds.

I can tell him anything and know he’ll trust my word,

something not all specialists concede.

’Cause I’m in his care, I feel that I can rest assured.

Of anyone, this man’s who can succeed.

I can tell him, “thank you,” till my face and tongue turn blue.

And he will say, “you’re welcome,” like he does.

An inkling of my gratitude…he’s only got a clue.

More intense respect there never was.

So how am I to take it when it’s he who gets so sick?

How can I endure his failing health?

Surely this is nature playing some ungodly trick

on a man who hasn’t time to spend his wealth.

It would seem, that of the two, the world is better set

having this man here, instead of me.

If one could, in lieu of him, pay off his deathly debt,

I would be the first to set him free.

*photo courtesy of Fotomanie on pixabay.com

Were It Just That Simple…

Were it just that simple, I would only be my best.

I’d never let them see me sweat. I’d always ace the test.

Were it just that simple, I would save the whole damned world.

I’d smite all evil. Off the cliff, it neatly would be hurled.

Were it just that simple, I would keep an open mind.

I’d hear out every argument, and they’d pay back in kind.

Were it just that simple, I would never hurt a soul.

I’d always find a way to show amazing self-control.

Were it just that simple, I would be the perfect wife.

I’d give him everything he wants and bring his dreams to life.

Were it just that simple, all my dreams he would fulfill.

I could never want for more and know I never will.

Were it just that simple, I would only make him laugh.

I’d tell him jokes and watch him smile and cry on his behalf.

Were it just that simple, he would never make me cry.

                 He’d always be so patient and he’d never, ever die.

Were it just that simple, there would be no petty fights.

We’d fill our time with love and song and sweet romantic nights.

Were it just that simple, we would be the perfect pair.

And never to the other would we ever be unfair.

Were it just that simple, all the words I set to page

would keep us warm and cozy as the years advance our age.

Were it just that simple, I would run off with my man.

We’d live in bliss and reminisce ’bout how it all began.

But…things are not that simple. All men’s lives are full of woe.

To take that journey with him is the only way I’ll go.

So…it’s not that simple. There are worse things that could be.

Perfect blends are boring, dear…that’s why he’s here with me.


Exercises In Futility

No position I can find will make it go away.

Nothing I can do will make it right.

I just have to watch the clock push hours into day…

through the long, excruciating night.

Sitting doesn’t help at all, nor does it to lie down.

Standing up is quite atrocious, too.

Walking is a bad idea, just like all the rest,

leaving me with nothing else to do.

Doubled over in a ball, I try to soothe myself,

huddled with a blanket ‘round my back.

Rocking to and fro’ I wonder, will it ever end?

Hoping till my brain and heart just…crack.

Should I, to the ER, go, and put myself in line?

I will have to stay and wait my turn.

Triage nurses don’t think I should get to skip ahead

when I don’t have a gunshot wound or burn.

When I get to see the doctor, he comes in resolved.

I know that he, first, made up his mind.

He’s decided I just want a source of heavy drugs,

sure he knows I’m of the addict-kind.

I can see it in the way he stands reviewing charts,

looking at the clipboard he brought in.

Glancing up and over just a bit from time to time.

Convincing him’s a battle I can’t win.

If I could count up the times I’ve tried to start anew,

I’d use all my fingers and my toes,

searching for the doctor who can conquer chronic pain,

one who doesn’t judge and presuppose.

One who doesn’t promise his procedure’s gonna work

before he’s grasped the level of my pain.

One who doesn’t send the message: it’s all in your head,

who treats me like I’ve simply gone insane.

Even on the days that I acknowledge are my best,

constant ache pervades my every breath.

Like sandpaper, coarse in grit, the pain rubs raw my soul,

leaving me romanticizing death.

Remembering When Life Was Easy

rolling down the highway, singing tunes from days of yore

feeling happy, joyous, light, and free

on my way to meet friends who reside within my core

people who have turned me into Me

stay up all night talking till the dawn has come again

keeping glasses full and telling tales

laughing loud and commenting on stories of back when

others fill in blanks when memory fails

how I love these people more than words could ever say

so glad they were there when I was young

we’re so lucky we could all, together, pave our way

such great folks I spent my time among

some of us have changed a bit but mostly are the same

I can still relate to every one

how I feel ’bout them is something no one else can claim

far too weak are words like “love” and “fun”

even though we have to leave and go back to our lives

meeting now and then’s a thing we need

a chance to learn to love each other’s husbands, kids, and wives

as we over-drink, snap pics, and over-feed

The Step-Parent

I just don’t care that they don’t have my blood.

I’m sure that that could not, of import, be.

‘Cause either way their shoes will crust with mud.

And still the same, their laughter transmits glee.

I hear them breathe soft sighs as slumber comes

while strapped within the seat belts in my car.

My table’s just as dirty with the crumbs.

They giggle watching Grover’s NEAR and FAR.

I love them and I hope their dreams come true,

and that their lives are filled with joy, not pain.

And anything to keep them safe I’d do.

A love like this a person could not feign.

 I don’t care that I cannot make my own

when it will satisfy to see these grown.

What Santa Doesn’t Know

It’s time for Christmas! Ho-Ho-Ho! I hope that Santa doesn’t know

my indiscretions here and there, like how (inside my head) I swear…

’cause other drivers make me mad. On Santa’s List, they’d count as bad.

In fact, it really is quite best he doesn’t know. He hasn’t guessed.

It’s also fine he doesn’t know that if a cookie’s not just so…

I can’t expect to serve it, right? And since it’s more or less a “bite…”

I go ahead and eat it. So? I’m just saying…he can’t know.

And since I don’t mind telling you, there has been something else I do…

From time to time I hit some sales to buy things for my family’s males,

but find that I am fixed upon some darling thing I then try on.

And if it doesn’t look too bad, and if the price won’t make me sad,

I take it home and show it love. Does Santa Claus, who lives above,

the one who’s at the old North Pole, who’s taking on his jolly role…

does he know that I do these things? And would that change the stuff he brings?

So we shouldn’t tell him now. He’s way too busy, anyhow.

He really doesn’t have to know. So, Merry Christmas! Ho-Ho-Ho!

Don’t Tell Me I’m Crazy

Don’t tell me I’m making it all up!

Don’t tell me that crazy’s how I seem!

Don’t tell me my symptoms don’t add up!

Don’t act like I just told you a dream!

No, I can’t locate the “source” of pain.

No, I didn’t hurt myself last night.

No, there’s not an allergy to blame.

No, don’t tell me everything’s alright.

Sigh. It’s not attention that I crave.

Sigh. I’d rather not be in a gown.

Sigh. It’s not that I just don’t behave.

Sigh. I don’t care you don’t like my frown.

Will you, once you know, apologize?

Will you tell me how you pegged me wrong?

Will you even try to empathize?

Will you say you’d guessed it all along?

See, my test results have proved my point?

See, I wasn’t making up a tale?

See, my blood and scans don’t disappoint?

See, it’s not my sanity that’s frail?

Maybe you should have yourself checked out.

Maybe you’re the one who’s lost his mind.

Maybe it’s your wisdom I should doubt.

Maybe you don’t understand my kind.

Where’d you go to get that nice degree?

Where’d you learn to treat a man that way?

Where’d you learn to let your mouth run free?

Where’d you learn the worst wrong things to say?

I think I want doctors who will trust.

I think your degree’s made you a snob.

I think I’ll move on, like we discussed.

I think you should find another job.

Little Ball of Fur

So soft and white, your whiskers and your paws.

How warm and floppy does your body feel.

So painful when they stab my flesh, your claws.

Cry out, you do, when you’re in want of meal.

You lay stretched out and nap beneath the sun,

just soaking up the rays upon the sill.

You climbing into boxes serves as fun.

You make me follow you and do your will.

So worth it all, your faults, I can find none.

And just to worship you is thanks enough.

The best of cats, you are the only one.

Oh, how I love to feel your tongue, so rough.

How those who’d rather dogs be by their side

have missed the pleasure of your kind to bide!

Ode to a ScanSnap

Sweet little scanner, who sits by my side,
I’m so glad to have you today!
You guzzle the forms and you swoosh them back out,
and then you know all that they say!
It makes my job easy when you are around,
I just couldn’t thank you enough!
The papers appear in a nice pdf,
so I’m set to e-mail that stuff!


Our laughter is important to the world.

Some levity can save us from our lives.

So, cackle till your toes and hair have curled,

’cause roaring loudly keeps our hearts alive!

Just give an ardent har-dee-har each day,

and welcome chuckling in its many forms.

Howl out, and snort, and titter, come what may.

Then watch in wonder how your day transforms.

I crack-up, crow, and snicker while I can.

I let out peals of laughter, unrestrained.

I brush off gloom with which my day began,

discovering I feel the mirth I feigned.

So start and end each day with a guffaw,

and you’ll be glad, the lighter side, you saw.

Return to Me


Caustic tears burn my cheeks.

My nose is raw again.

Headache’s been here past nine weeks.

Seclusion’s now my friend.

See the tissues piled high

in fluffy, white cascades…

growing taller while I cry

as misery pervades.

Oversleeping keeps me numb.

It’s off to bed I go.

Don’t know this person I’ve become,

nor do I wish to know.

She’s so dark, it’s not like me…

at least, it hadn’t been.

In mirrors now, she’s whom I see,

my melancholy twin.

Want to smash the looking glass

so she will go away.

Till I do, the months go past

and seasons must give way.

Too long I’ve been crying now.

I wish that I were free!

Make the sad one take a bow,

and just return to Me.

*photo courtesy of geralt on pixabay.com

It’s Just a Sibling Thing

sibling thing

Guess who drives me bonkers all day long while I’m awake?

Guess who tests my patience and is always such a fake?

Talkin’ ’bout my sister, if you didn’t guess it yet…

the one who does those mean things that I never will forget.

Sometimes there’s a stupid song she sings until I scream,

then all night long, I hear that song play, even in my dreams.

Mom asks me to do her chores when she’s at Jenny’s house.

Then I find out later that she took my favorite blouse!

When I’m watching TV, she sits yapping on her phone.

Can’t wait till we live apart! It won’t be till we’re grown…

I have the remote control just two days of the week.

She comes in and takes it, then she tells me I’m a freak.

She jumps in the front seat even though today’s my turn.

Once, she took my soda pop and poured it in Mom’s fern!

Sometimes she does bad stuff, but she makes it look like me.

I just know she also lost my favorite DVD.

I expect she’ll hit me everyday until I move.

When I try to tell on her, there’s nothing I can prove.

Last week on the bus she told the kids to call me “fart.”

She sat with me, let one go! She doesn’t have a heart!

One time when my family came to see my play at school,

she told Tim, the boy I like, that when I sleep, I drool.

When we bring home Chinese food, she picks out all the meat.

And yes, one time she even put a thumbtack on my seat.

Toenail clippings showed up in my cereal one day.

Oh, I just can’t wait until my sister moves away!

Yesterday I weighed it, and my piggy bank was light.

I won’t let her take my coins without a fearsome fight.

Then there’s how she bothers me when friends come here to play.

Plus, she always threatens to reveal how much I weigh.

Though my mother’s told us that one day we might be friends,

I just don’t believe our petty fights will ever end.

Momma likes to laugh at us. Her sister does the same.

They swear up and down they once were us, but overcame.

They say as the years go by, our fights will lose their sting.

Even if they don’t, I guess it’s just a sibling thing.

Old Cup of Tea


Steeped in regret, I’ve become bitter like an old cup of tea.

Wait…don’t forget, I’ve been keeping it all under my hat.

Don’t hate me yet; I’ve needed a way to break myself free.

It’s not a threat. I’ve always known where I’ve gone, where I’m at.

Cracked is my  heart. I’ve crumpled up in a heap on the floor.

Nowhere to start…I’ve got to go to the end to begin.

Doing my part, I’ve tried not to burden you anymore.

Tear me apart. I’ve let it go and just won’t try to win.

Leave me alone. I’ve needed desperately to be at one with my thoughts.

Can’t I go home? I’ve wanted so badly to get to make it back there.

My chance is blown. I’ve ached for time to unravel these festering knots.

I should have known; I’ve long believed that nothing in this life is fair.

Where can I go? I’ve only ever known one path to follow.

I only know I’ve lost the chance to be whom I want.

Why is it so? I’ve worked all my life but my deeds all ring hollow.

Nothing to show, I’ve pushed only emptiness up to the front.

Well on my way…I’ve never been able to stop time from coming.

Later today, I’ve got some documents to check.

Once I’m away, I’ve moved on to something more numbing.

My edges fray. I’ve got to watch out for my tender neck.

photo courtesy of Nemo on pixabay.com

Mean Mister Blues

Mean Mister Blues pitched a tent in my shoes

last night as I did sleep.

Now in my womb, he made it my tomb.

He came for emotions to reap.

I’d try to fight to keep light in my life

but that result wouldn’t come cheap.

The windows unlocked, I just couldn’t act shocked,

and over the sills poison seeped.

I would scream out but that’d give him no doubt

and he’d find me before I could go.

Gnashing my teeth with such pain underneath,

that could only set Blues’ heart aglow.

If I lie still and give up my free will,

the tortures I might undergo

would leave me a shell while my pain is excelled

until agony’s all that I know.

Trapped in my mind with so much undefined…

it’s my happiness I will forsake.

I let him come and consume till I’m numb,

stoking his fires with ache.

Stuck on the floor, I don’t reach for the door.

I give the resolve he will take.

Now left destroyed, it’s the light I avoid,

for all promises weaken and break.

The Crack

i see a light through a crack ’neath the door

it scares me to think where it leads

i’d rather stay here and keep to myself

tending my heart while it bleeds

watching and waiting, I don’t make my move

i don’t think this is the time

i should prepare myself for what may come

purge my emotional grime

maybe what stands on the threshold beyond

isn’t too much to endure

but if I start in, and want to come back

my ignorance is no longer pure

better to sit here and just bide my time

tomorrow the crack will be there

it’s just the light that might soon disappear

and by then my heart can’t repair

if the light’s gone, is there really a crack

a way to break through the deceit

just as I’m nearing the answer each time

my heart beats a hasty retreat

My Window

looking out the window pane I see the falling snow

coming down in giant flakes in fields where grasses grow

safe and cozy in my home, I’m warm and feel content

satisfied with life today, no thing that I resent

I can just relax and breathe, no troubles to be found

but if they come I’ll smite them all and crush them on the ground

days like this remind me that I have an easy life

free of hunger, tyranny, or unremitting strife

separating me from things I never could control

like weather changes, traffic, or the rising price of coal

I polish up my window and step back to take it in

appreciating just how easy life for me has been

Dark Thoughts

Dark thoughts…dark thoughts, all my own.

Dawn breaks through: a new day. Moan.

Still the thoughts are gray and black,

like barnacles upon my back.

They slow me down; I’d like to swim.

But there’s no light…the moon’s so dim.

I retreat and hope to sleep,

and soon the dawn again does creep.

All progress made the day before

has disappeared right out the door.

I start again and try to move,

try to learn to find a groove.

Mostly I just feel alone,

despite my site, and friends, and phone.

Endless Day

I cannot write my feelings down.

I cannot have them ever found.

I can’t explain how they evolved.

Nor how the problem will be solved.

All I know is I’m in pain.

I’m trying hard to stay this sane.

I want the hurt to go away.

I want to choose another day.

It seems I relive just this one.

An endless day with no warm sun.

Protected: His Ways

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i don’t know what’s wrong


sometimes i don’t know what’s wrong

i only know it is

for peaceful slumber do i long

for peaceful, never ’tis

once on paper i can see

i have no reason true

why does sadness follow me

and leave me here so blue

write it out compare it all

the goods outweigh the bads

from at the top my mood does fall

and i just feel so sad

medication seems to work

for several folks i know

i get impatient i’m a jerk

i fear all think it so

no excuses left to tell

i have to steel myself

i pretend i’m feeling well

put sadness on the shelf

but no matter how i try

i know it’s always there

wish that i could say goodbye

and never have a care

photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures on pixabay.com

the infusion center

sitting in this room again

a needle in my chest

recliners neatly in a row

me stuck, like all the rest

magic liquid dripping in

to make my muscles strong

sitting in this room again

I know that I belong

sitting in this room again

we all have different woes

but we share a common thread

that only sick ones know

thrown in here by circumstance

we’re tethered to our poles

sitting in this room again

and setting healthy goals

sitting in this room again

our stories we compare

we comfort one another

it’s a safe place we can share

all our stories good and bad

there is no wrong or right

sitting in this room again

and putting up a fight

sitting in this room again

we share each other’s pain

we hug, console, and say a prayer

though it might be in vain

people in this room have caught

the short end of the stick

sitting in this room again

where we can all be sick

The Candy Shoppe

candy shoppe

I want to tell you all about my favorite place to go…

buttermints and malt balls are the first to start the show!

The Candy Shoppe is where I like to spend my extra time,

picking out swirled lollipops in cherry, grape, and lime.

The only problem with it is that every time I find,

it’s just so hard to pick which things. There are so many kinds:

Ring Pops, ribbon candy, Sugar Duds and colored Dots,

cordials, M ’n Ms and those Tamales that are Hot,

nonpareils, yogurt raisins, Mounds and Almond Joy!

This is so much better than when Mom buys me a toy!

1000 Grand, divinity, and Sour Rings so tart,

jelly beans and Swedish Fish, they always steal my heart.

Taffy, Runts, and candy canes deserve attention, too…

Hubba Bubba, Tootsie Pops, and shredded Big League Chew.

Licorice and Red Hots, Jordan Almonds, cherry sours…

I’d be happy staying here to wile away the hours.

Red Vines, Twix, and Reese’s Pieces, cherry ’Mallow Twists!

Should I be handcuffed to this place, I’d gladly give my wrists!

Vanilla crèmes and Smarties, Skittles, Blow Pops, Tootsie Rolls,

Cinnabears and candy corn I’d like in heaping bowls.

Log rolls, chocolate coffee beans, and gumdrops, sugar-sweet.

There is just no end to all the candy I could eat!

Junior Mints and bon bons, Hershey Kisses and fruit chews,

Andes Candies, Now ’n Laters. Sure, I’ll share with you!

Peanut butter cups and sour gummies, caramel…

lining every wall, there’s just so much that’s here to sell!

Chocolate coins so shiny in their foil paper wrap,

conversation hearts and turtles, no time for a nap!

Wax lips and those yogurt covered pretzels make me drool.

If I could be a candy-taster, I’d drop out of school!

Sweet Tarts, rum balls, almond bark and Mints that Meltaway

Sixlets and some sweet Gobstoppers always make my day.

Mr. Goodbar, chocolate hearts, and little gummy bites

make my dreams taste oh-so-sweet when I’m in bed at night.

Candy rolls and chocolate hearts and Pop Rocks crackling loud,

gorgeous cotton candy, pink and fluffy like a cloud,

chocolate covered peanuts and a few Three Musketeers…

To sample all within these walls will surely take me years!

I will have to focus if I want to get it done.

Guess it doesn’t matter ‘cause I’m having so much fun!


whatever I am reaching for will simply not be caught

no real name for that one thing it seems I’ve always sought

would that I could draw a picture, make it something real

make it something tangible that my cold hands can feel

yet they sit here empty with a keyboard underneath

perhaps I’ll never have a thing to hold, pass on, bequeath

it doesn’t stop the longing though, my hands still in the air

grasping at the nothingness I know is always there

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