Things to be looking forward to (a list poem)

  • the summer, that sunlight, the freedom
  • Firefly, the music festival
  • Seeing those two boys who bring joy to my life
  • No more work to plague me, to keep me up
  • Friends all in one place
  • Late nights with the boy, punctuated by kisses
  • Driving no where, any where
  • Paying jobs to lift my excpeptionally underweight bank account
  • days dedicated to swimming in the pool
  • Sun burns, beach trips, swim suits
  • Summer time


She sits in the corner of the coffee shop

Fingers tapping against matte black keys

She wears kiten heels with little black bows

And sips at a pale cup of creamy coffee


The liquid that falls between her lips

Distracts him from a conversation, turning

focusing his attention on the girl with the

Blue dress and even bluer eyes


He wonders if the gloss on her lips would be sticky

When he presses his mouth against hers, or if

the pink peach color would imprint on his lips

Letting the world know that he had kissed her


Is she wearing stocking with that dress?  Or is

All the silky skin of legs on display for everyone to see?

would goosebumps appear on that skin,

When his hand slid from ankle to calf to thigh?


Shaking his head, ridding thoughts of this girl

He grabs his own coffee order and disperses quickly from the shop

As so he does not act on this fantasy

Or even bother to ask for her name.

Swing Forward, Swing Back

One moment I am angry

Red tinted vision and grunted monosyllables

Anti social and vivid words, harsh

Abrasive against the soft ache of exhaustion







Sleep begs at the corners of my mouth

As the desire to mingle among the cotton sheets

And lay my head on such plush pillows

Just to sleep and dream and forget about my troubles







The, as suddenly as it was there

The tiredness is gone, warmth and ease replacing anguish

Smiles, chuckles, giggles, and good cheer all around

Dizzy, I’m spinning from the recoil







I swing, momentum creating circles

Dizzying, drugged by hormones, emotions, stress, elation

I just want my swing to still

But I cannot, I cannot stop this swing






A Certain lullaby

Like a familiar tune, it comes in waves

peaceful, perfect, sleep inducing


The semi silent whir of oscillating blades

Starts that melody of my certain lullaby


Rustling of cotton sheets against the freshly cleaned skin

Permeates the whisper of the mechanical AC from down the hall


Turning pages, careless pillow fluffs, and kicks thudding against a downy comforter

bring a strange cadence that weighs heavily on my drooping eye lids


Finally that warm body curls closer to mine and that steady heart beat

Is what finally lulls me under in this certain sleepy lullaby.

She Is

She is the girl who does laundry late at night

And stays up even later so that he has folded pants, and clean socks


She is the girl who sleepily begs for another kiss, another hug

Before he leaves for work, before she succumbs to another hour of sleep


She is the girl who greets him with a smile and warmth at the door

Despite his grouchy post work demeanor and growling stomach


She is the girl who rages at those who do her wrong and who offend her

Yet he knows it’s rage for good things, not for bad


She is the girl who helps out those in need, especially when it’s an emergency

He’ll always find her taking someone to an emergency room or brushing their hair


She is the girl who talks, chatters away to fill the silence when she feels awkward

But she does it because she has no idea what else to do when she worries


She is the girl who has spark in her eyes and fire in her lips

Playing, teasing, tormenting, testing, giving, taking, completing, loving


Most of all she is the girl who loves as much, no, more than anyone he’s known.

She is the girl he loves, for every thing she is

Requirements of a future home

There will need to be a soft couch

A place for cuddling with fleece blankets

For tickling, popcorn,kisses,  and movies

Projected on the opposing wall

A couch where we can both fit


There will need to a wooden cabinet

For the china inherited from my Nana

For the picture frames from both our sides

The knick knacks from travels and

For the treasures our future brings


There will need to be a closet

Where your pants and my skirts

will mingle between washing

Where our shoes will sit and

the linens will gather that perfume


There will need to be a study

Technically it will be  library

Where our books will sit and more

Shall appear every time we

Head out to a store, to place


There will need to be a washing machine

For the days when paint just won’t come out

Of my dress pants, or the oil stains turn

Dark on you work shirts.  And especially for

The socks that carry their own scent


There will need to be a dog, and quite

Possibly a cat.  There will need to be something

Furry and soft and loyal, happy to see me and you

Something to play with, some one to adore

Perhaps a German Shepard and a Scottish fold


There will need to be a bed

A bed with calming blue and brown sheets

A bed for sleeping, for reading, for playing games

A bed for working late and for breakfast in

Most importantly, a bed for loving you

Clean Sheets

Tugging the yards of fabric

Warm from the dryer, my feet carry

Me back to the room, quickly I tuck sheets in place.


He grumbles, sleepy, displeased that I have roused him

From the tempting mistress, Slumber

Coalescing, he flops on the fitted sheet, a smile on his face.


I stand at the top of the bed, Whipping the sheet

Until it is straight along the lines of the mattress

His grin grows as the warm sheet and comforter follow


Tucking him in, I feel a memory pull at my consciousness

Of my mother doing laundry, promises of clean sheets

Long after the sand man had visited


I recall her stepping into my room, and

Draping the warm sheets around me.  They felt

Like love and happiness and comfort


No wonder I love clean sheets


Walk a mile in my shoes

They say it’s not easy being green

But being blonde can be hard too

Probably not as difficult as being green it

(although Kermit seems to thoroughly enjoy it)


It’s difficult being a college student

Papers, projects, lesson plans

For us busy as worker bees education majors

(but hey, I voluntarily signed up for this)


Sometime’s it hard just being a girl

Dealing with all the problematic pieces that our

Culture presents to us, in order to be perfect

(personally, I think I’m a ten pounds of cute in a five pound bag)


Walk a mile in my boots, with music thrumming in your ears

Get from the apartment to campus without forgetting much

Sit through class, pass notes, get coffee

(you’d better put plenty of cream and sugar in it)


Walk a mile in my shoes, holding hands with him

Smiling, smirking, laughing, giggling

Feel that warm of peace and love

(especially post coitus and before he leaves for work)


Walk a mile in my shoes, holding the hands of child

Teach, but don’t force, allow them to figure things out

Share hugs and wisdom, but lots of hugs

(no seriously, plenty of hugs for the little kids!)


Walk a mile in my shoes

and find out what it’s like to

Be me

(cause i think it’s fantastic)