Someone Like You

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I didn’t know
I could be broken
until I was shattered.
I thought I was stronger
and it wouldn’t matter
after all I’d been through.
I just wasn’t counting on
being destroyed by love
I just wasn’t counting on
someone like you.

Most People

Most People
Most people touch something hot
and they don’t touch it again.
Most people feel pain and then
they stay away from
the thing that caused the pain.
She was different.
I don’t know why.
Maybe because pain was so familiar,
but when something hurt her
she held on and rubbed her heart into it.
She didn’t let it go. She held on for dear life.
Most people touch something hot
and they don’t touch it again.
But, she’s not most people material.

Cracks

 

WALKICE

Standing on ice
watching the cracks
spread beneath her feet.
Swan dancing on ice
slipping and sliding.
A million more
cracks appear.
She keeps moving
until she stands in the
center of the frozen lake.
Fractured ice under her feet
no matter which step
she chooses to take.
She walks carefully.
She walks slow.
It’s so lonely.
It’s so cold.
Standing on ice…
watching the cracks
spread beneath her feet.

I Am She…

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I AM SHE
There was a time when my mother was middle-aged and me?
I was young and naïve, not a care in the world
the arrogance of youth was on my side.
I was a footloose hippie girl and I thought love was free.
Her skin was firm and tanned, black waves of hair fell to her shoulders
softly surrounding her fair face, bosom quite generous,
legs as fine as any model, she was my mother,
but with flower child simplicity, I used to call her Grace.
She was spirited back then, although she seemed quite old to me,
and how did I become imprisoned while she has learned to fly–a butterfly set free?
Tonight, as I glance into the mirror, my middle-aged face stares back.
Have I become her, and she, the child I used to be?
At seventy-three she’s still a beauty, but time’s fire has burned its’ trail
and when she had a stroke last year,
I realized how deeply she had aged; yet, become so childlike, so frail.
My firm skin, my shapely legs, will soon bow down to time,
much as my bell-bottoms and tie-up tops gave way
to blue jeans and then on to stretch pants and a baggy tee.
I will lose this interval named youth and as I look into her face,
I see my future and
I am she.

by Jeanne Marie
My mom went to play with the angels in 2009.

Celebrating My Mom’s Writing

Grace Christine Doucette, October 12, 1926-July 27, 2009

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Dear Jeanne Marie,

I’m dysfunctional? What’s that you say?

Well, I’ll deny it to my dying day.

I look at the world with rose-colored glasses,

It’s the men I find that make the wrong passes!

I’m so innocent, I believe all their lies

I think that’s true love deep in their eyes.

I see only what I want to be there

And accept love unafraid, not a care.

I function perfectly straight every day

And don’t allow reality to get in my way!

When I kiss my prince, he instantly

becomes a toad,

And I’m covered with warts,

alone on the road.

But I keep going, living my dreams,

Life just can’t be as bad as it seems!

Dysfunctional? Nope, not me!

I’m still waiting for my prince at seventy-three!

Guess Who?  (Love, Mom)

THE FLAME

by Grace Christine

How many times must a heart break,

before it falls apart?

How many times can we sift the ashes

and force the flame to start?

In the pain of loving and dying each day,

the smallest flame can light our way,

And as crazy as it may seem to some;

it’s the hope of love that’s yet to come.

So we bind the fragments together with

glue, and place our faith and hope with You.

You alone, can see the other side of life,

You alone, know the purpose

of our heartache and strife.

ODE TO THE MAILMAN

by Grace Christine

You keep the mail flowing between

my daughter’s house and mine,

It’s worth the price, for this way we find

That loves keeps alive with each letter

So tell me, sir, what could be better?

Through snow, rain, sleet,

or hot humid day,

We know our thoughts are on their way.

You guard our hearts,

sealed in white paper

And we trust your devotion,

what could be safer?

I just wish I could squeeze me

tight inside,

I know I’d be safe

throughout the long ride.

And when she opened

my extra-large letter

I would pop out and hug her…

that would be better!

Love ya dear, Mom

Oh Mother…From Michelle Marie for Jeanne Marie

Oh Mother up in heaven as you
sit at the Father’s feet please
ask him to give me strength
I love you and I miss you
Happy Mother’s Day
Love…me
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Have a blessed weekend my friend.
My arms reach out to embrace
and hold you tight!
I love you!
Michelle Marie
Stunning photo JM
You inspire me…thank you!

One Rose…

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one rose strong against the wind
you think you stand alone
but you are surrounded
by other generations
in every stage of bloom.
they stand with you till
their luscious petals drop
to the ground along the way
together in the garden
alone on your stem
your thorns attempt
to keep the pickers away
life prunes and trims
until you feel
as if you are gone
cut away
but that isn’t so
every leaf grown
from your limbs
reaches for the sky
they keep your blooms alive
so bloom for them my rose
and thus your sweetness
continues to live on and on
and you will never die.

 

I Don’t Believe You

Letting go of your hand

although you tell me

I cannot stand

unless you are by my side.

You mixed your lies…

truth, shaken and blended

to create a sweet disguise

under your mask I did not peek.

No, I will not behave.

No, I will not be quiet.

No, I will not be a slave

to lies I once believed.

Tell me this…

where is the woman

I used to know?

Where is she now

where did she go?

Trying to leave

you beg me to stay

weak in the head,

I must be, because

suitcases are unpacked

clothes are put away.

Breathing ain’t easy

when you’ve been

crushed by the muck.

Leaving is hard

but it’s the staying,

oh ya, it’s the staying

that sincerely sucks.

 

Thanksgiving, 1996. by Grace Christine Doucette, my Mom.

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Tasting Free…

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Like a caterpillar,
I shed my skin.
Peek out at freedom
flutter my wings
then try to crawl
back inside again.
The light’s too bright.
It’s gonna rain.
Will it hurt?
Where will I sleep?
I am afraid.
Will there be pain?
My wings I test.
Oh yes, they work!
I crash into myself
flying away from
a life that hurts.
My sister has flown solo
touching stars all night.
She helps me up
she dries my tears.
“You ARE a butterfly.
You have strong wings
and just like me,
you’ll be alright.”
Still, I bury the torn larva
under a weeping willow tree
just in case…I hate free.
My sister is glowing
as she whispers to me,
“You can’t climb back
inside your cocoon
once you have tasted free.
Spread your silly wings
my precious sister
and come touch
the stars with me.”

Jeanne Marie, 2014

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Learn more about butterflies!  http://www.enchantedlearning.com/subjects/butterfly/allabout/

Two…

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Every evening two broken women

Stumbled down a lonesome road

Passing each other on their way home

Silent, not a single word was spoken

Strangers they might have stayed

But one night the wind was howling

The lightening was crackling white

The black thunder roared

The icy rain drops pelted the ground

Beneath an old bridge they huddled

Two broken women hunkered down

Waiting for the storm to pass their town.

Blue

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Blue you seduced me with your

False promise of love and peace

Buried my face in your blossoms

Wiped my tears dry on your leaves

Saw past your dark corners

Focused on petals hinting of white

While you painted my soul bruised

Poisoned me with your blue seeds

Blue secrets you are so cruel.

The Mountain of Sand

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On the mountain of sand
trying to stay balanced
holding breath because
one tear splashing
and it could crumble.
Not moving but
it doesn’t matter
the giant ants below
doing their work
one grain of sand
by one grain of sand
her fate will be decided
by others at the foot of
the mountain of sand.
On the ground distant
rescue teams and daughters
shout, JUMP, JUST JUMP!
Take a chance and JUMP!
Busy trying not to crumble
a mountain of sand today
it’s clear she doesn’t listen
doesn’t even look their way.
Rescue teams and one daughter
give up in disgust and walk away.
One daughter refuses to leave
running alone beside
the mountain of sand
she waves, arms open wide
screaming in the wind,
“Take a chance and JUMP!
JUMP, JUST JUMP!”
Holding breath
she is standing still
on the mountain of sand
and it is plain to see
there’ll be no jump today.

Words by Jeanne Marie
Photo by Rick McClellan

Imagine…

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Imagine a forest where the colors run free

you might see a pink and blue hibiscus

and you can rest under a lavender tree.

Purple lace drapes the branches above

as you stroll through the violets and lilacs

happy forever, dancing in a forest to love.

Imagine a forest where the colors run free

where the rain drips pink marshmallows

and Swiss Hot Chocolate always is free.

A little house you could call your own

with thousands of books waiting to be read

and never, ever, the sound of a ringing cell phone.

Imagine…

2014

Imagine…

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Imagine a world
where the flowers are blue
the sky is Cinderella pink
and your heart is brand new.
Heart never been broken
never kicked to the ground
a home built on rainbows…
awesome flowers surround.
Tears are never shed and
willow trees do not weep
when you close your eyes…
your soul He does keep.
Imagine a world
minus cursing and screams
imagine a world
where kindness beats mean.
Rose colored angels
waltz through your dreams
while dainty butterflies dance
on clouds of whipped cream.
Imagine…

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Words & Pictures: Jeanne Marie, 2014

Petals Fall

 

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Proud and bright
you hang.
Petals, firm and strong.
Then, one by one,
damaged petals
start to fall.
One by one,
till blooms
form a mountain
of red petals on
the cement floor.
Petals fall
as lovers argue
destroyed by
neglect and time
until love’s light
goes out
and velvet petals
wither on the floor
as quietly, they die.
A little water
a little kiss
a smile, a hug.
Nope, didn’t happen.
So one plus one
who once were two,
are now alone.
Each too proud
to clean the mess
or to pick up
the phone.
Petals fall,
o
ne by one
by two.

by Jeanne Marie

 

 

When pictures fall…

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When pictures fall
chills sliver up my spine
I try to catch the frame
before it hits the floor.
Catch it! Catch it!
Don’t let the glass smash
slicing paper memories
from when we believed
that our love would last.
How will I remember
what is supposed
to be mine, unless it’s
hanging in its frame?
Catch it! Catch it!
When pictures fall
memories are shattered
and in tears, I wonder…
why does it take disaster
to make me remember
just how much I love you
after all?
 

Jeanne Marie, 2014

 

Most often…

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When you think

I have forgotten

about you…

When your phone

doesn’t ring

when your text

doesn’t flash

when I’m not posting

any PINK Bling…

That’s when I’m

thinking of you

most often.

As I wander

through my flowers

flitting around

just a blue

butterfly orphan,

my only

nourishment

the flowers I walk in…

That’s when I’m

thinking of you

most often.

Jeanne Marie, 2014

 

Lost In Love

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Lost in love
what is my name
I am you
and you are me
we are the same.
Lost in love
no one is here
to answer the phone
the banging on the door
lost in love, lost in love
but love, love doesn’t
live here anymore.