Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

one last fight


every single strand
of my being
strains toward you
you are the magnet
i’m the metal
it’s  nothing that i choose.
your words whisper to me
come mere baby
in the dark of the night
our first kiss lingers
only to be haunted by
our last kiss, one last fight.
Posted in Grandbabies

My Grandson Brought Me Butterflies

When I lived in Florida, I had hundreds of caterpillars and butterflies living in my Passion flowers.
My greatest pleasure in the morning was going out to see them on the porch screen waiting for me.
I know it’s hard to believe, but if you had seen their little faces pressed up to the screen waiting for me, you would believe.
I would whisper softly to them and they would land on me and land in front of me.
They would hold still and pose for pictures and if you know butterflies, you know they don’t hold still.
We moved back to New England almost three years ago and since then, I have been in short supply of butterflies. I’ve maybe seen five and they were tiny white ones.
My grandson Cole came in June to spend the summer with us. He’s been here for about three weeks and I have seen five or six huge yellow and black butterflies flying by my gardens, even doing flybys as I sit on my porch.
Yesterday, one flew right over my shoulder.
When I lived in Florida, I was known as the Butterfly Whisperer because they would land on me and pose for pictures.
Here in New Hampshire I have been the Butterfly Misser, but no more.
The butterfly drought is over.
Thank you, Cole.
You brought me butterflies.
Thank you, Michelle Marie for the art!
Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

I Found Elvis in Oklahoma

I found Elvis in Oklahoma at the mall.
He sang to me about his Heartbreak Hotel
and I thought he’d slip me the key to his room
but Elvis, he just sang to me, that’s all.
He stayed alive long enough to say,
“What do you want with a mannequin anyway?”
I replied, “I love a man who doesn’t talk much,
who has nothing mean or bossy to say.”
“Well, ma’am,” he sighed,
“You ain’t got no grilled
banana/peanut butter sandwiches
in your hand and no offense, but
I’m dead and your hair is turning gray.”
Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

Peter Pan

Peter Pan broke me.
He flew me among the stars.
He kissed me till I was dizzy.
He showed me Jupiter and Mars.
Then…he let go of my hand.
Peter Pan, you were just a little boy
I stupidly mistook for a man,
yet, here I still sit at my window.
Oh Peter, Peter Pan.

Posted in Gracie's Glimmer, Poetry From A Woman Who Thinks Too Much

Untie Time

I wish I could untie time
rip it to shreds and then
put it all back together again
without the grief and the tears.
Throw away the bloody pieces
no… bury them in the ground
where they will never see
the light of present year.
Never a chance to beat me.
Never a chance to bind my soul.
No hands rebound…no, no.
Treacherous threads of minutes
Woven through my torn flesh,
Taking all, time imposed her limits.
My bounty ticked away so quickly
I couldn’t even catch my breath
My babies are grown, am I free?
Have I  passed the maternal test?
I wish I could untie time.