MY CHILDHOOD WAS NOT ASTOUNDINGLY OR EXCEPTIONALLY
DIFFERENT THAN THE NORM
BUT I LIVED AS A CHILD
AND CHILDREN ARE EXTRAORDINARY
HARBOR YOUR JUVENESCENCE
🚲
MY CHILDHOOD WAS NOT ASTOUNDINGLY OR EXCEPTIONALLY
DIFFERENT THAN THE NORM
BUT I LIVED AS A CHILD
AND CHILDREN ARE EXTRAORDINARY
HARBOR YOUR JUVENESCENCE
🚲
Sometimes I feel caught in between, Not a kid, not fully a teen. Trying to figure out who I’ll be, While the world keeps changing around me.
School gets harder every day, Friends change in different ways. Some stay close, some drift apart, Leaving questions in my heart.
I dream about the future ahead, All the paths I’ve yet to tread. Will I be strong? Will I be wise? Will I see life through clearer eyes?
Even when I feel unsure, I know one thing that’s for sure— I’ll keep going, step by step, With every lesson that I get.
When I step into the Colorful Dreaminess garden I see the butter-yellow glow from the sun
The sun paints the day with delight
The sun shining is like hammered gold
I feel like I am stepping into a kingdom
I see a shower of pale pink coming from the tree
It feels like walking a trail of beauty
The blue sapphire pansies are as blue as the sky
With Glint and Shine
Purple lilac blooms like they are dancing
It sounds so peaceful in the garden it’s like the flowers are sleeping
It feels like it’s as calm as the ocean
What a wonderful garden!
We are here
together,
at the happiest place on Earth.
I am lying next to you,
holding your hand in the dark
while our girls dream
beside us.
The appointment is next week,
when we get home.
But for now,
we are here,
together.
You watch the parade,
I watch you struggle to swallow.
You watch the fireworks,
I watch you cry.
We sail in airborne ships,
ride flying carpets,
Spin around in dizzy teacups,
throw penny wishes in fountains.
I gather pixie dust
in my pockets to
hold onto the magic.
I won’t let (you) it die.
Blown Glass
The molten fire ablaze
The glass engulfing it, draped delicately like a glaze
Fire restlessly attacks, as the molding starts to commence
The fibers of the plastic slowly starting to condense
A sticky tar or moldable clay
Rests ever so subtly as the shape starts to stay
Forming a renewed defined figure immersed in new color and awe
As each piece stills so perfectly and the agonizing fires withdraw
The flames have dissipated and the structure stands unyielding
The result light, and airy
The process of healing
A transformation of something so dreary and tasteless
Into something so new, so pronounced, and so flawless
New vibrant color peaks its way through
Such an exquisite creation to lay eyes to
The structure and composition forever changed
And its elements and internal being has been re-arranged
A new radiance protrudes as its brilliance shines unbound and free
The beams of true rejuvenation pouring out for all to see
And through the pain and uncertainty
I have found the hidden illumination inside of me
She lifts dishes from the sink-water one-by-one,
clutching them the way she holds books,
washes fronts-backs like poring over scripted pages,
warming and uncovering ceramic stories.
Turning again to legendary washing,
she reveals new chapters one-by-one, with
coverings now stacked, dry, ready to envelop
tasty works and the sweet stains of treasured chronicles.
The Room
Musky mahogany furniture shows its years.
An old box spring on the bed has a scent
of mildew, but a pleasant scent.
The mattress is a bit lumpy from many
nights of dreaming,
yet still quite comfortable.
On the bureau is a faint gray ring from
where the wash basin once sat.
The mirror above is distorted with a brown tint.
The window lets in beams of the early morning sun
which glistens off of the near motionless dust.
A slight breeze gently moves through the window
where it’s opened a crack, moving the yellowed curtains . . .
But nothing breathes in this room,
‘cause old man Olson lies cold in his bed.
Tom Bradley 1976
The elephants would meet at their watering hole their usual time of day
And as usual they were excited about what each had to say.
One would talk about the terribly hot weather
While another said how much he loved getting together.
Some spoke about the animals they passed on their way in.
While some just listened quietly with a worried grin.
The talk continued for an hour or so.
Since being elephants, they had no where to go.
As their meeting came close to its end.
Each elephant would shake trunks with his friend.
They nodded to each other, and all did agree.
Never tell another elephant joke, not even for a fee.
I plea to you – PLEASE make peace with your maker or your God as you see It to be. PLEASE do your best to love your family members and the others that are close to you, as much as possible. PLEASE trust those important to you and build trust with them. Follow the Golden Rule – truly “doing unto others as you would have them do unto you.” PLEASE take care of your physical and mental health. Work hard when you can and you are able to. PLEASE never stop dreaming lofty dreams, welcoming visions as they come. Never stop learning; be it through formal education or even reading something that strikes you as interesting. But PLEASE don’t just gather knowledge, apply it to your life – using it in your thoughts and actions. Express yourself: be it thru the arts; letting your voice be heard on issues. And appreciate the present moment, not forgetting to plan for your future. Use your time wisely, but don’t be too hard on yourself.
But PLEASE most of all, stay true to yourself – stay golden. When you do fall, forgive yourself and get right back up…
(Written circa 2015)
I do not carry you in the way I used to.
Not in my voice, not in my choices,
not in the quiet moments where I once questioned my worth.
What I carry now is different.
I carry the strength it took to leave,
the courage it took to see the truth and not look away.
I carry the version of me who stayed too long
not with shame, but with understanding.
She was trying to survive
with what she knew then.
And I honor her for that.
But I am not her anymore.
I am someone
who listens to her instincts,
who trusts the feeling
in her chest that says
this is not right.
I am someone who chooses peace
over confusion, who chooses herself
without hesitation.
There is no anger here that owns me,
no past that defines me.
Only a quiet, steady knowing:
I am still here.
I am still whole.
And I am mine again.