Sheila's Birthday Poem

I wrote this poem in tribute to my long time friend, Sheila. It was her 32nd birthday, and I wanted to celebrate some of the defining moments in our friendship. I could write a book of poetry just on our friendship, but for now, here's a single poem:


Happy Birthday, Sheila!

Happy Birthday, I know this is true: 32 looks good on you!
We were both born in July of '72- just nine days apart, too!
You were named Sheila Marie and we turned one in '73,
but rather unfortunately, I didn't meet you immediately.

Later on when we were nine, we met and got along fine
that was in 1980 or '81; we talked and played and had lotsa fun.
I wrote about you in my diary; some stuff I said was real goofy.
We went to church at L.W.C.C., I think that was 1983.

I loved your sister, Karyn Anne, but I was afraid of your horse, Cheyenne.
You had to pump water by hand, but you sure had lots of land!
I rode with you on your pony, Pete; up the hill and down the street.
Your mom took us to Americana twice, we had a picnic and that was nice.

In seventh grade you moved away, that was an extremely sad day.
I felt lost and very alone, but I came to visit you on Jonesboro Road.
You still had horses and kittens, too, and a room with a farmland view.
A train would pass by at night, heard in the distance but out of sight.

To stay in touch, we wrote to each other; you quit having a crush on my brother...
we both got older and started to date; the youth group social scene was great.
Many of our friends were mutual, except some of the ones we had at school.
We even dated the very same guy; looking back, I'm not sure why.

Our friendship survived through all that drama; almost 19 I became a mama.
You worked real hard and became a R.N.; I became a mom again.
In '96 we took a 3-day vacation; it was a hilarious situation!
we pitched our tent on a cow dung hill; the rain soaked our tent at will.

In 1997 we went to Ichthus once more; I was pregnant and a bit of a bore....
we had your camper instead of a tent; I am really glad we went.
You had Harley in 1998; I got to be your labor coach-that was great!
She was joined by Jacob in 2001; being an "aunt" was lots of fun!

We have seen both highs and lows; I think that's just how life goes.
we've seen loss and we've seen gain...we've shared one another's pain.
Some of the stuff we've gone through has made us stronger, and smarter, too.
No matter what we have our faith; a big part of what makes our friendship great.

It's 2004 and I have a teenage son; Harley and Jo finished kindergarten.
Jess is a preteen and Jacob is three: our kids are growing up so quickly!
We live closer than ever before; right down the street, who could ask for more?
I am so blessed that you are my friend: our friendship is eternal, without end.

After all these years, we still stick together...through life's rough and stormy weather.
We have our own lives and individuality, but still have many similarities.
I hope this birthday is your best one yet! And please don't you ever forget-
my sister in Christ, you mean the world to me: I love you and I will, permanently.

Bad Feeling

Also written in the car on October 4, 2004, as my way of coping with my fears and frustrations.

Bad Feeling

expecting a reaction
just got a stomach ache
ate too much
mine and someone else's plate

it's a toss up
really don't know
what's going to happen
is it so?

some day we're the bug
other days we're the raid
gotta lie in these beds
they're already made

can't make up my mind
but i can make up another's
can't call my sisters
can't call my brothers

everyone is a squirrel
who wants a nut
got a real bad feeling
in my gut

What Day Is This?

Another dark poem that I wrote in the car in October of 2004.


What Day Is This?

i don't even know what day it is
do you?
get out the calendar and mark
it through
sometimes the point of all of this
is just surviving
i'm fooling everyone
if they think i'm thriving
put on a happy face and go on
ahead
at home are dirty floors and an
unmade bed
i'm claiborne on the outside
and thrift store in
doesn't seem like there's
anyplace
important i've been
one day the buck is going to stop
here on my life that i've got on lock
the shoe's dropping fast
watch it drop
that's the day i have on mismatched
socks
but that's okay, we're all just flocks
we all march to the same beat
doesn't matter what shoes
are on our feet
i must be crazy if i can think
outside the box of this skating rink
round and round the people go
someday they'll stop,
this i know.
but when they bust down
this flimsy door
finally they will ask for me
no more.

Thinking Out Loud

I wrote this poem, along with several others, on 10/05/04. I was sitting in the car, waiting for Mom to finish her grocery shopping. I was tired, overwhelmed, and fighting depression. Mom was getting sicker. I could see it in plain sight. I had been watching this confident, beautiful 80-year old...one who was always physically fit, sharp as a tack, energetic, fiesty, always in control start to change: In just weeks she was becoming a frail, insecure woman right before my eyes. I was discouraged, because I wasn't getting any help from her boys. I didn't know that just two and a half months later, Mom would pass away. I knew something was wrong, I knew she was going downhill, and I knew I wasn't coping well. I missed my family, I needed support, I needed a day off. I couldn't find a way to make things better. So I took my pen in hand and dashed off several poems. It calmed me, refreshed me, enabled me to go on.


Thinking Out Loud

it's just one of those days
that doesn't make sense
down for no reason
and the sadness is intense

the sun is shining
the sky is cloudless blue
but inside is a struggle
about what I should do

nobody's perfect
this much i have seen
yet my life feels so empty
what does this mean?

i feel like i'm fenced in
can't break free
everyone has expectations
of what they want from me

i just want to run
and forget everything
clip the ties that bind me
this girl on a string

my heroes are criminal
my kindness is a sham
everything is corrupt
as is everything i am

can't trust my brother
my neighbor, my friend
can't trust myself
my character i can't defend

so i stare out the window
into the great vast blue
and i sit here and wonder
what in the world will i do?

Since You Went Away

I wrote this in May of 2004, in tribute to Grandma Margaret, my husband's grandmother. It was our first Mother's Day without her.

Since you went away


So many things are different since you went away....
I hear the bluster of the winds of change more every day.
I can face that fact and grasp its harsh reality,
but that doesn't make it any easier for me.

That's the thing about life that grieves me to the core;
just when I get used to life, it changes some more.
The people that we hug today may be gone tomorrow,
the paths that we walk upon may soon be too faint to follow.

And even though this life may seem strange-
you now walk with our Lord who will never change
He is always the same, no shadow of shifting in Him
His love is perfect and without whim.

So when memories of you come to mind as they often do,
I think of things you said to me or that I said to you.
I see your face in pictures that I took over time:
how I wish life had a remote so I could rewind......

The other night I dreamed you came back to speak with me;
I asked you about heaven and how it's going to be.
I told you I felt so blessed to talk to you that way
and I asked you time and again, "are you sure you can't stay?"

In the blink of an eye I understood that it had been a dream
but I had even touched you, oh how real it did seem!
I looked across the street to the house sitting vacant and still....
my heart felt even emptier than the house ever will.

Sometimes when I glance over, I still think I see you there....
smiling and watching as little children play without a care.
Maybe you are there- really, maybe I just can't see
that you will live on in all of us, until we join you in eternity.

The Kind of Guy You Are

Written for my husband in June of 2004, for the Father's Day scrapbook I made for him.

The Kind of Guy You Are

You're the kind of guy
who loves the smell of the fall air
jacket weather and pumpkin pie...
and football, of course.
You also like snow between Thanksgiving
and Christmas....and even after that
for a few weeks, but then like the rest of us
you get antsy for Spring.

You cook, and you do it well-
sometimes you even bake a cake
but mostly you stick to cooking.
Although, you're a really good baker, too.

You love packing up the vehicle
and the kids to go to the drive in;
to see movies and stay up late.
Then we are both too tired to function
the next day, but it's fun being lazy together.

You love to take your family fishing
we all look forward to it,
and you always have to string our poles.
That gets on your nerves, but you do it, anyway.

You buy me flowers
for no particular reason, other than
that you saw flowers and thought of me.
You buy the real expensive cards
and when I look at the back I say,"Quit spending so much on cards for me!"
But you never listen.

You really like to travel by car or van- you like
to stay in hotels...even if money is tight
and we have to stay in the most basic room
they have without a pool or tiny shampoos.

You are a very talented artist, but you
hardly ever draw anymore, although
I wish you would because it impresses me.


You don't usually talk a whole lot,
but when you get going you can have
a lot to say, and sometimes it's pretty deep stuff.
You are mostly serious and quiet;
when you are funny you are downright
hilarious, and you suprise me to no end.
You laugh out loud when something strikes
you as amusing...your high pitched laugh
makes me laugh but I try not to show it.

You are one of the most loyal people
I have ever known. You don't get close to
people easily, but the ones you do get close
to, you stand by no matter what.

You love to sing in the car, but only
when the radio is on. You also like to play
the radios or cds when you clean, too.
You like 80's music, but you like all kinds of
music. The fact that you love hard rock music
suprises a lot of people, but not me.

You hold me in high regard...sometimes higher
than I think I deserve, but it's so nice to be
that high up on someone's list.

You get frustrated because you think you
aren't where you should be in life, aren't
making progress, aren't doing everything
you should....
but I think you're doing just fine. You have
a great work ethic, and I think that working hard
pays off in the long run.

All of these things...and more...make you the kind
of guy you are... Or at least that's how I see it.
These are the qualities you possess...the things that you
do and the feelings you have that endear me to you.
I loved you from the moment I met you,
and through our super high highs and really low lows, I still can't see me without you.

Common Fridge

There are oranges in the fridge
they've been there since March-
with no sign of going bad yet

no one wanted those oranges
they tasted kind of dry
fruit is often better when wet

on the bottom shelf
kind of toward the corner
sit ten shiny cans of beer

we all like to pretend
we don't see them at all
that's how it works around here

an old paper bag
wrinkled and worn
holds condiment packets galore

mustard and ketchup
soy sauce and butter
creamer, jelly and more.

some of us like diet cola
a case takes up
the whole bottom right side

the guy in the center office
has a soft pack cooler
often that's where his lunch hides

common fridge that's what it is
it's plain white
and holds all of our stuff

boring and plain
nothing exciting about it
no frills or unneeded fluff

do we really need
the stuff accumulating
in its recesses so cold

and do we toss out
our coworkers' food
after it gets so old?

so many unanswered
questions have we
about our fridge today

since it really isn't
all that important
I guess I'll call it a day.