Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Cooking

I’ve lost my love of cooking
last two nights I ate thick
juicy strip steaks on the 
grill cooked by my daughter
avocado as side with lemon 

I rarely eat meat, tonight I 
feel empowered, interesting
what do they put in that meat
or is it natural for carnivores to
glut on bloody red steak




Purple

T’is the color of The Alzheimer’s Association
I don’t remember if they said how they chose
it, perhaps like wounded veterans, a similarity 
a connection to the mind boggling war of
a mind disease that makes one a prisoner

It is unjust, there should be treatments if not
cures!  We have men on the moon!  Why not?
To see a mind wasting away, a once brilliant
mind, though any mind should not have to go
this sad, horrific way.  WHY NO DRUGS?

No drugs to at least slow the disease, why no
drugs to cure the disease”  In ten years perhaps
a crisis as baby boomers start coming in 
in alarming numbers, Alzheimer’s, a disease
of aging  can bring the world to its knees 

Step up world, country, city, village, step up!
Check the statics and step up for yourselves
for your parents, for your kids, for your spouse
There is something array, something wrong
and the medical community is silent!


Friday, March 25, 2016

I Clicked in Here to Write a Poem

Nothing is coming to me
nothing at all, each day lonely
each day guilty, each day sad

Each day more peaceful
less stress but lonely and sad
each day more guilty

Not taking him home again
I can't do it all anymore and
I feel guilty and mean


Saturday, March 5, 2016

I sit

In the glow of my monkey light
it is nice to be connecting in verse
life is rife  with connections we are
blessed with

The world is changing, I'm not sure of
how the shift is going

Calling out!

Hungry

Hungry

I am hungry
it builds in me
something is nagging at me

My hunger is stimulating as it
builds in me  rising like bread
I love the full feeling

Yet, I miss the emptiness   
a balance where I let go  find

peace  letting go

What Shall I Call Her

No one knew her like I knew her
on the surface sweet  kind
commiserative

Below the surface she shocked 
her anger hurricane force words
whipped any victim 

It was hard for her to be
my mother  hard for me to be
her daughter

I did not stand down at all and
it ankled her to no end
it ankled me that I ankled her

No longer wanting to be
like her, my Mother who
I would hope to represent

We were two different people

I like to think my daughter and I
are on the same page, much closer
I only have my perspective

My Mother

My Daughter

I