I am queen of my neighborhood
with my lefty glove in hand.
All guys and me, the lone girl,
picking teams for the game
“We got her” I hear, and then,
Scott with the mad crush on me

Bit O Honey, Reese’s
M&M’s galore
Milkyways, Butter Fingers
Please give me some more

Nestle Crunch, Mounds Bar
Large Three Musketeer
Pixie Stix, Tootsie Rolls
Enough to last a year

At six a.m.
This business starts
Of climbing stairs
And beating hearts
Lifting weights
And stretching legs
“Stop it please”
You here me beg
My trainer tells
Me what to lift

There he was
Lying there
Dr. O’Hare
Looking like someone else
No one I ever knew
And I was numb
The room was silent
Or it wasn’t
People milling about
Eyes, at gaze

This is a poem my brother Jack wrote for my mom on mothers day in 1962, when he was 8 years old. I recall my mom being so excited to open a loving card from her sweet son…

Please come to this party one and all
Spring has arrived and I hear its call
The canvas is laid out for all to see
All the colors of paint are soon to be.

Every person has his smell
Like the wino who is drunk
The hygenist brushes often
But she still smells like a skunk!!!!

Grandma smelled like Shalimar
Grandpa reeked of smoke

And i wrote this for my dad!

My Dad, my strength
My hero for sure
Self made man
Kind and pure

Provider, decider
Tenderhearted man
Everything to me
You have my hand

Believed in me

I wrote this for my mom for the upcoming mothers day!

My shining light
And brightest star
Sweetest hug
Never far

Always there
Ultimate concern
To let me grow
To help me learn

Ah…Wine
red…
I swirl you
around,
and you
you, with your
clingy legs,
your legs
so long
and lean
so silky smooth,
you
engulf the
roundness of
the orb,
grasping onto
nothing,
you

Oh basil, sweet basil
I love you so much
What is it about you?
I just want to touch!

Oh garlic, Mr. pungent
Get into this bowl
Say hello to sweet basil
There’s one common goal

My Golden in Love

A can of green tennis balls

I daydream of you

Senor Habanero, how dare you
What the hell are you doing?
You burn me and bite me
Make me sweat and delight me.

Scotch Bonnet, I want it
You’re still one red hottie
You whip me you hurt me

If honey was sour
and lemons were sweet
the bee and the flower
would they ever meet?

Would a tiny bear cub
grab that honey pot then
slide in his paw
or run back to his den?

Poetry for me is full of emotions
Life experiences and sometimes confessions
Feelings that were kept in my head for too long
Make their way out now, where they belong.