Best Ever

He decided he’d go with me to the mall

after we had breakfast at his favorite spot.

The back-ups that lead to the Bucs stadium

went for miles.  We forgot about that.

We sang old songs and poked along.

At  the mall we parked in the overflow lot,

walked around holding hands and sharing soda.

Saw Santa Claus in his ice palace, heard the squeals

from children, grumbles from adults that it's too soon.

Such a magical time, the times I spend with Bill.

Next Step

My next step is to be aware
Of missteps and wanderings
On circuitous routes

To stay put, buck up
Stop looking around
For places and people
That don’t exist now.

Blame It On The Season

I begin to play Christmas music
in October, go shopping when I have
nothing to buy so I can be in all
that energy that is the holidays.

I give gifts to those unsuspecting,
unexpecting. I am given the gift
of a smile or kind word and I pass
it on and on. I attend parties,
invite people to my home, make
gingerbread houses,cookies and pies,
and am driven to cook chili and soup
and cold weather comfort foods.

I become sensitive to sleighbells
and children’s laughter,decorations
and Christmas trees,holiday movies
no matter how sappy,hot cocoa
and meaningful moments with my family
and friends.

I adopt angels and families, take my
Little Sister shopping for her family,
donate dinners and clothes, foods
and blankets where I can. I decorate
the house inside for those who enter
and outside for my neighbors.All this
energy lives on and passes through
each person it touches and comes back
to me.

I believe in love in a myriad of faces,
love my family, my friends, and my fellow man.
I love this world, this country,this state,
this city, this house my husband and my dog.
I blame all this on the season.

On The Run

From house to house
City to city
State to state
We run

We look for life
Of yesterday
To rewind, play again
If not
We run

If we find the right home
Go to the right place
We can get our life back
So we run.

Space

I’m in a house one third the size of the home
we had before the downsizing. Just one row
of kitchen cabinets, no extra cubby holes,
and a master closet tiny enough to make
me feel what it must be like to be harbored

in a submarine. The breakthrough for me
is the realization that I’m fine without all
that space, without all that stuff. I feel
lighter,more organized, and have less mind

muddle. Without storage, each acquisition
means a well thought out decision about where
it will go and what I will have to give up
to make space for it. I have to admit
less space is freeing

Shadorma (Form Poem)

I’m Mimi
to my grandchildren
and great grands.
I just melt
every time I hear that word
spoken by loved ones.

I am Mom
to my two daughter’s
Angela
and Jeni,
two beautiful women grown
up and on their own.

I’m Honey
To my handsome spouse
A blessing
I love him
More each day for fourty years
I’d like fourty more.

Who’s Right

Why do so many people take such rigid positions,
become adamant, rigid, know their way is right,
believe that everyone should think just like them.

Who is so sure that they are right, that they bank
their life, their friendships, their ability to enjoy
or even participate in a full life so they can be right.

Who are these people who have all the answers,
need no help, won’t listen to other people, other
views. They are closed, they took their stand.

Permission Granted

To live my best life
Stretch and reach out
Hold on and lift up
Search for the right fit
Grieve when I need to
Be loudly joyous
Speak my intentions
Express my needs
Love passionately
Lean on or be the rock
Look for the good in life.

Right or Wrong

I’m often torn between the right or wrong
of situations. Moral delimas and anything
not in black or white mode leave me
in a quandary.
It’s right to say what I feel, but wrong to hurt
others. There’s no easy way out of these
conundrums.

Hole In My Story

Our toilet was a stinky outhouse
That listed to the left.
A tiny box , narrow and tall
with a hole cut in wood the
box inside. Sometimes we had
magazines but more often not.
I don’t remember having toilet paper,
that was what rich folk had.

I was always so scared to go
outside along the path to the outhouse
after dark. I was afraid of a snake
on the path or worse, so going to
relieve myself took more courage
than I’ve ever had to muster since.

My friends asked me once when I told
them my outhouse story, “why didn’t
you have a chamber pot in your bedroom?”
Hmmm,I didn’t know but I called mom right
away to find out. Mama said, “Now Judy,
where do you think we’d a got the money
for a pot?” I guess when I say we were bad off
people don’t really get it. We were so poor
we didn’t have a pot to piss in

Lost

I lost all my jewelry in a robbery.
It taught me a lesson well learned.
Things aren’t that important
no matter what sentiment I attach,
in the end it’s all gone anyway.

I got a grip after the tears,
after the feelings of loss.
I had to say the bracelet my
son gave me, best mom in
the world wasn’t important.

It wasn’t until I lost him.

Tell Me Why

I’d like to know what makes two people fall in love.
Of all the individuals you meet in your life, why that
one person (even if that one person is actually
the third or fourth one and only for you)? Some

people you flirt with, see great potential in, but most
of those affairs fizzle and die. There has to be some
instinct, some attraction that we haven’t discovered
yet, scientifically, that makes you feel as if that person
is the one being you want to spend your life with.
Tell me why two people fall in love for a lifetime.

Poeming

First a word,
then another.
Begin at the top,
the first line’s the key
to what lies below. A thought
or a scene floats in the mind, is put
to paper, honed down to just the essentials
Tell a story or simply string words to form visions,
beauty, enlightenment, or emotion for all those who read.

Just When I Thought It Was Safe

I thought it was safe to talk now
about his life and even his death.
I’ve ten years of tears to my credit
in that emotional bank account.
That’s enough to get me through
the rest of my life. I shouldn’t have
to worry any longer about when
the tears will fall, when the sob
will rack my body and leave me
like a jellyfish washed up on shore.
Crying anywhere, everywhere
should no longer be an iffy
proposition. I’ve done my time,
haven’t had a day off my sentence
for good behavior, I should be done.

Crossroads Church and School

I went to school in a one room
school house at the crossroads
in Muddy Pond, Tennessee.

The building was white washed
and there was a big pot-bellied
stove that kept us in the promise
of warmth from time to time.

I remember the teacher would
go from grade to grade and give
assignments before moving on
to the next grade. There was one
boy there that was in sixth grade
that looked twenty but was probably
sixteen or so. He looked like a man but
talked like a child, what struck me
was how hard he worked. I spent
a lot of free time figuring out what
he would do next to upset teacher.

Crossroads School House became
Crossroads Baptist Church on Sunday.
We would gather round
that potbellied stove that didn’t
offer us any more warmth than
It did in school. People would come

from miles around and we would
meet our boyfriends or girlfriends
and sing to the tops of our voices.
The preacher would punctuate his hell
and brimstone sermon with haa sounds
that came from deep in his belly
and it almost sounded like a yodel
when he’d get going good.

Wayward Hair

(PAD for day 13.)

I wonder why that hair on the back
of Bill’s head sticks up now when it always
acquiesced to the shape of his head before.

Is it because he is older, grayer, his hair more
course so it springs up to Alfalfa proportions?

I’m researching gooey things with names
like Maneuver Working Wax, Hold Still,
Work Hard Molding Paste, Grip Tight
Holding Gel, Get r Done Pomade,
and Stand Tough Extreme Gel.
I mean to get to the resolution
of these wayward hairs! Hope Bill cooperates.

A New Mood

(PAD for day twelve)

Forget what they say.
Traffic in the city
isn’t horrendous, nothing
negative can be said
about a place that so
many people want to be.

Fact is, and this is true,
cars are jammed and line
the streets because it’s
a good place to be. Traffic
clogs the roads you drive on
because these are the roads
that are most desirable.

How lucky you are to be there,
to receive that energy you can’t
get anywhere else. This is
the place you were meant to be.

No One Wants to Die

Death awaits us every one
tries to cloak itself in seduction
a cape of peace wrapped round us
a respite from racing the course.
We fight, hold off, refuse its
deceptive lure, most of the time
we know it for what it is. We fight,
do what needs to be done to survive
to allow ourselves one more shot
at this life we find worth living.

Pro

I’m for sentiments written and spoken,
beautiful fall and spring days, sunshine
and tiny dogs.

I’m for love and care of spouse,children, grands,
family, friends, and neighbors. For the state
of Florida,Gators and the Bucs, North Carolina,
and Tennessee. For the United States of America
and this nation. For white, black, brown, yellow,
and red people,and other colors if I could think
of any. For straight or gay,single moms or dads,
widows and widowers,the elderly and infirm,
and even for people who don’t think the way I do.

I’m for tomato plants on the back porch,vibrant flowers,
for hibiscus,palm trees and evergreens, too.
I’m for studys and dens and granite counter tops,
for baby giggles and children’s laughter and making the
world a safer, better place for them and us.

I’m for Big Sisters and Brothers and Guardian Ad Litems,
girlscouts and boyscouts, sports, music, foster care
and respite workers.For nurses and doctors and help
staffs, psychologists, psychiatrists and meds
that help those in need of them.

I’m for school teachers, volunteers, churches and women’s
clubs that do good. I’m for searching, optimism, examining life,
finding, and looking further. For random acts of kindness
and those not so random always trying to do and be better.
I’m for putting a stop to this list and resting from
the overload of all that I am for in this life.

Look

We look for the perfect place
Where life is whole again.
The trek began ten years ago
I keep thinking it’s over
We have found our haven
Our home where I can become
A cook and great writer, a traveler, too.
He finds something more satisfying
Than his work, he begins to golf
And find solace in a life transfigured
We look at the beach, on mountain
Tops, and arid places in between. Look
For the place where people like us belong.
He smokes a pipe in front of our fireplace
with a dog at his feet and me on his lap.
I knit and read and paint something
true and illuminating and it will fulfill me.
We smile at each other in our innocence
Like we did ten years ago. We say
Life is good and it is not a cliche.