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Cancer and Five Old Clocks
“Cancer and Five Old Clocks” Rhythmic Stanzaic Poetry, Poetry Workshop 2002 I’d rather wash clothes, scrub a dirty floor, Than sit here waiting, looking out my door. To wait takes time that I may not reclaim. Waste whisks away with only one to blame. I sit and think. Not having time to die Does not ensure no pain. I want to lie, Be bored, regret, complain, and not be scared. I’ll ask God “Why?” Hell, how could He have dared? Cancer, I feel alone. I should not wait, Lying in bed while my loved ones create New stories to distract me from dying. I’d rather hear anything but crying. Instead…
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Faith
“Faith” Free verse poetry, Poetry Workshop 2002 She might have lost her faith in God that night Had life’s stopped heart not started again when She cried and beat her fists upon his chest. Liquor—the silent, killing distraction That screwed his mind—left him dying, gasping. Her heart of needles continued to beat, But with each beat, bad thoughts and blood would clash And clot and send rotting acidic waves To her stomach: cancerous ulcer and death. She has time for neither. The life she had Chased died before she knew. She found the ghost Of his memory—the man who could have died Without her pleading prayers and tears. He lived, But…
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My love history and why I never wrote about my husband until now
Let me warn you: This post is long. Something my husband and I talked about before he helped me launch this website was the fact that I wrote a lot of material about someone I loved before I met him. I was worried that what I wrote a long time ago would hurt my husband, something I would never do intentionally. Now my husband, Jonathan, is very blunt, as anyone who knows him will tell you. He told me specifically that he is not threatened by my past because it made me who I am—the woman he loves. We talked about my past and his while we were getting to know each…
