Toys

When I choose a toy for a child
I try to find something that matches their interest
something that is bright or will make ‘em smile
it could be dinosaurs, balls or something to hit,
models, games, books, building blocks, or erector sets.

Most kids love stuffed animals, dolls or action figures,
the artists will need paints, brushes and canvases,
athletes - something to climb, or water to splash in
singers will want a microphone and music.

For the ones who love outdoors
there are games of croquet, badminton, basketball, and soccer
or bikes, scooters, skateboards and anything with wheels.
Toys don’t have to be complex, just something to stimulate the
body and the intellect. They give kids something to do,
or to chase when they need to get off the couch to play.

New Mexico and Utah

Albuquerque, New Mexico
Arid desert sun
Dried, red hot chili peppers
Heal an ailing heart
















Bryce Canyon, Utah
Canyons of limestone
Where ancient spirits wander
Bridging the divide

Porcelain Vase

Every day I could see it on the top shelf,
an intricate Asian pattern of gold on green

with a splash of red,
dragons chasing their tails
in a snake like fashion,

surrounding the porcelain in descending
coils – telling the myth of other worlds.

I knew better than to run too fast,
or bump into the mahogany shelf
that held the glimmering prize aloft
in the far corner of the room.

One day while my parents were out I couldn’t resist,
climbed up the chair and took down the vase,

held the glossy treasure in my hand,
heard the car door slam,

then dropped it.

The Perfect Family

This poem was written by using another poet's topic and pattern to write one of my own. It is like the chance poem, it takes off in its own direction, and allows you to write an original poem not even vaguely similar to the one used for inspiration. I also repeated the word perfect as a unifying element throughout the poem.

The Perfect Family
Everybody wants that perfect family
captured on camera,
a smile on each face

locked in time
in perfect harmony
but if you look closely you can see

that baby’s diaper needs changing,
the grimace on the middle one, tired of being squished
the oldest, fed up with all the wasted time

to get a perfect shot. How many retakes?
Why not tell the truth and snap those candid
moments of the mess and the distress

of living together? Capture instead the pushing
and fighting for space, the strain to find a little time
to pursue personal interests,

portray the parents’
dream of falling in love with someone else,
anyone who could cherish them as much as they deserve

in that perfect fantasy
of the faultless family, where illness is unknown,
failure unfamiliar and disappointment unexplored

where no promises are broken
and each dream achieved
in a world where everything is perfect

really… that type of family sounds boring
no challenges in all that bliss
maybe … my family is perfect, just the way it is.

Mama’s Rules For A Long Marriage

Mama said, “If you want to keep a man, never let him go hungry.”

So I taught him how to cook in case he got the urge,
I offered him conversation and laughter instead of a meal.
I didn’t want him to salivate when he saw me coming
or begin to demand food when his belly rumbled.

He could seek me out when he had something to say,
when he needed my ear to help solve a problem,
share something he learned,
or to tell me about his work
as he prepared our meal at the end of the day.

Mama said, “Treat him like a super hero.”

"What is a super hero?" I wondered.

Instead I showed him appreciation for the work he did.
Hired out when it got too complex,
participated, when it was something we could do together,
never nagged, because he hated being nagged,
and forgot about it if we could live without it.

Mama said, “Never let him hit you.”

He'd better not hit me,
I want to be loved and cherished,
to be treated like a queen.

“Where is love in all your rules?” I asked her.

“Love is different for everyone
and you have to figure it out
if your marriage is going to last,” she said.

I’m Grown Up Now

I stand taller than you,
I’ve learned to make decisions
get from here to there -
work and make my own money

I’m grown up now.

When I was little you used to take care of everything.
You told me where to step, how long I could stay
put me on restriction when I
wandered from your path.
I listened, tried to make you proud
wanted your approval, followed your rules
tried to wear your protective armor but it became too heavy.

You never liked my short shorts, you thought
I was asking for trouble. My grades could
have been better but I liked
spending time with friends.
You never knew about Rueben,
the night I was suppose to be at Irene's,
I went across the border and still dream about him.
I told you the lies you wanted to hear —
but ultimately you are not me.

Everyday I make choices
and most mistakes I can recover from
so I take risks to find out
where you stop and I begin.
My bank account is low but I don’t need your help
I’ll figure it out or live without it.
Yes, I’m putting on weight, don’t worry,
I’ll get it under control…

I don’t care about your traditions.
I won't be handed from my father to a husband.
I want time to explore the world.
maybe I'll emerge a stranger
but in the scheme of things you’ve lived your life
now it is my turn to live mine.

I’m grown up now.

Date Night

One by one the teenagers on the block
hop into their cars and made the stop
at the corner before they pull out to join
the procession of lights on to the main highway.

She watches from her bedroom window
television droning on, counting heads
in each sedan as they drive away
into the night looking for adventure.

Parties crashed, lover’s lanes, smoking hash,
talking trash, dancing hard, laughing loud,
vomiting at the side of the road before
coming home ten minutes after curfew.

She leans against the window frame
and imagines some smell like alcohol,
girls with lipstick smeared,
boys needing cold showers.

She wants to be young, ripe, and succulent,
ready for tasting all the joys of life without
wasting a moment to dwell on its dangers.
The point in life to be invincible.

If she could go back she wouldn’t waste a moment
worrying so much about the size of her breasts
or whether her clothes were fashionable,
was she in the right group? Was she cool?

The moon shines down on empty streets,
a few steamy cars still parked curbside.

She recalls that night in June before
she graduated from high school.
His name was Jeff, she knew better,
but didn't use protection.

Late in August when she gave him the news
he drove her home but never returned, left her
to raise their child alone. She couldn’t bear it,
considered jumping from the freeway bridge,
but changed her mind.

So here she sits on Saturday night
at home, watching the world outside
wishing for her freedom again but no time
to dwell, she hears her daughter crying.