I Think About the Perfect Match

I think the perfect match would be

A fight between my mind and me.

Once inside the ring, no doubt,

She’d turn my reason inside out

And jab me with an upper cut

To knock my viewpoint on its butt;

And then she’d hit below the belt

By making fun of how I felt –

“You need some self-esteem,” she’d say,

Then counter punch like Sugar Ray.

I’d duck and dodge, and feign a blow,

But in the end, this truth I know –

She’d win it with a TKO

And knock some sense into my brain

Until we meet to fight again.

The Music of Our Marriage

For our 20^th anniversary

A six-month prelude’s all we had

Before the first notes played,

Two seasoned artists pairing up,

A new arrangement made.

Despite our brief alliance

The maestro waved His wand

And there we stood, about to start

Our first movement and beyond.

And not much past the overture,

Before the pitch was set,

We introduced three daughters

And our duo turned quintet.

Then we stepped the tempo up

As family rhythm’s swung

Between harmony and discord –

The concert of the young.

The cacophony of life those days

Still rings within my ears,

Of how we strove to orchestrate

Strong chords to last for years.

And through it all a chorus played,

A consonant refrain,

With you and me its central theme

And love its binding strain.

And now my dear, after 20 years,

Our symphony plays on,

With variations yet to come

And fanfares yet to spawn.

For Maggie

Chorus:

You’ve got to believe you can;

You’ve got to believe you will,

Just let your faith lift you up

And positive thoughts instill.

The one place to start

Is in your own heart

And mind

And then you will find

That wonderful you!

Verse 1:

Too many times

Too many doubts

Are weighing you down;

Cut those weights free,

Let yourself be

The best that you can!

Verse 2:

Throw doubt aside,

At last take pride

In all that you are!

Do what is right,

Stand up and fight;

Don’t settle for par!

Nobody’s Worth Decides

If someone could explain to me

How each of us came to be

The who we are (or were) –

Why Sid is born in Africa

And Lee in Timbuktu

How Grace is blessed with mega-bucks

And Gail earns but a few

Why Page’s parents spare the rod

But William’s wield the belt

And Laura’s left her years ago –

What deals the hand we’re dealt?

Is life a game of drawing straws

Where entrants line the floor

And nobody’s worth less than you

And no one’s valued more

But Fate comes in and steers your hand

To choose a given straw

And where you find yourself in life

Depends on which you draw?

Timing

 

My business went bankrupt now three months ago

And I’ve pounded the pavement with no job to show.

 

For weeks I’ve been living on watered-down stew

And the landlord keeps saying my rent’s overdue.

 

Since the local car dealer just repo’d my truck

I feared I might drown in this sea of bad luck.

 

So I walked to the store with ten bucks to my name

And spent it on lotto – the Mega-scratch game.

 

I had but one thought as I knelt on one knee –

If it worked for young Charlie, it could work for me.

 

With deep thoughts of chocolate, I scratched and I scratched

As each ticket voided the plan that I hatched.

 

With one ticket left, I let out a loud sigh,

Then prayed that its numbers would somehow comply.

 

As one box, then two, matched the code on the top

My heart skipped a beat and I felt I would drop.

 

But I held fast the ticket and forged on ahead

As the hope for my future hung on what it read.

 

Three matches now, oh my God, just one more!

I started to sweat as I sat on the floor

 

Black dots filled the air as I started to slip,

Then pain shocked my arm and I tightened my grip;

The last words I muttered were, “Please God, not now,”

And I prayed He’d be hearing my message somehow…

 

And He did!

 

I now see I’m wearing a hospital band

 And the last lotto ticket’s still firm in my hand.

When with concerted effort I scratch the last square

Loud beeps beckon nurses to attend to my care

As my monitor signals the next millionaire!

No One Knew

 

No one knew

That quiet child

In the corner of the room

Harbored so many secrets.

No one knew.

 

No one knew

The torment

That raged within,

Like the winds of a tornado.

No one knew.

 

No one knew

How she craved

Acceptance,

As a tortoise the sun.

No one knew.

 

Until…

Until,

They found

The note

Beside her rigid body.

Acknowledging the Artist

 

We set the canvas

Supplied the paints and brushes

And lessons early on,

But you developed the piece of art –

Your palette,

Your colors,

Your own creation.

 

So why do we, the teachers,

Feel compelled to alter your brush strokes?

To put our imprints on your masterpiece

Instead of allowing you

To add the finishing touches,

Instead of stepping back

And appreciating the uniqueness

That is you?

The picture for this prompt was of a sign at an expensive pet store, I think.

 

Spoilt

 

“No, Daddy I want it!  I want this blue diamond collar!”  She rubbed her fingers over its gems.

 “But sweetie – ”

“No Daddy!  Can’t you see?  Reggie needs this collar!” 

To keep her from relapsing, I paid the $250.

When we got home, she placed it on his grave.

 

 

The prompt was a photo of a door numbered 11 ½.

 

11 ½

 

She fingered the number on her door – the age she debuted in her first Hollywood film.  Oh, the cameras, the spotlight, she thrived on the attention.  Like a rising tide her ego swelled as the roles continued until…until her stardom washed away.  Now, the door number her only reminder.

My Life in Decades

Six-Word Summaries

 

1^st  (0-10)           Stepfather’s alcoholism erodes bedrock of childhood.

2^nd (11-20)         Parents slowly chisel away identity.

3^rd  (21-30)        Searching through rubble to find myself.

4^th  (31-40)        Standing on the rock of parenthood.

5^th (41-50)         Building academic foundation for middle schoolers.

6^th (51…)           Looking to carve out artistic niche.

The Mother’s Day Card Never Sent

 

Thanks for the mem’ries I don’t have;

Though I’ve no doubt some good were had,

The shield I built to protect myself

Blocked them out along with the bad.

 

For many years I worked alone

To undo all the damage done

By you and Jim in rearing me

In truth, I’m not the only one.

 

What was is not what is thank God!

The yin of my youth’s my yang these days.

Dysfunction now turned inside out,

A diff’rent life In so many ways!

 

But there’s one thing I’m thankful for –

That as a mom I now can see

Just what a family’s meant to be.

So, thanks for giving birth to me!

 

Happy Mother’s Day!