Row upon row these
Grey mossy sentries
Pock marked keepers
In an unemotional
Salute to the dead
The facts listed by
A long ago arduous method
Saving space, time, effort
The chiseler’s tired hand
Chipping a three letter
Wishful farewell, a likely
Homonym that life
Taken away is just that
Severing without care
Exposing the heart’s
Delicate vulnerability
When the attachment to
Another’s soul requires
Acknowledgment of existence
These tired monuments
Leaning like friends
In an effort to hear
A whisper from
The ground below
The only message
To the Dead
More for the Living
Rest In Peace
Category Archives: Family
The Skatepark
Calmly observing from this top perch of
Bleachers strewn with water bottles
A random scooter laid to its rusty rest
Boys on skateboards, scooters, trick bikes
Curving, jumping and skidding over ramps
That call out with metal thuds and bangs
In regularity becoming less startling
Enjoying the peace of watching the undisclosed
Keeping track these boys have of each other
They move in and out, brightly colored ribbons
Streaming around, over, past each other, no collisions
Prepared orchestration not required in this movement of boys
Levels of confidence obvious as they motion to watch
The skinny kid, feathered hair flying, as tires rise aloft above
The high end of the steepest ramp,
Heels pushing pedals to contract the body off the seat
A bird in flight turning in midair
Lifting tire to the sky in backward salute to the sun,
Steep descent to a forward landing bouncing pirouette
Momentary balancing pause, then
Proceeding in effortless direction across the concrete park
His almost unseen sideways glance to his audience
Minimal evidence he cares there is witness to his grace and ease
Mommy Is a Clean Freak
My children, they say
I’m a clean freak
Not so, I’m tidy
There are the dust bunnies
One can see them on hands and knees
Guests don’t crawl, not at my house anymore
The dust bunnies are safe;
I am neat, so I am safe
You’ll thank me one day
Or your husband or wife will
My liberal stance evident as they are all boys
I do not limit their play to clean
The ps3 to make beds
To scrub, mop, dust
Beyond normal limits
Does not interfere with
Enjoying their childhood fun
The whole time I’m talking the memory
That messy and dirty meant poor,
Unloved, uncared for
This is our home I say
I’m not comfortable
In a mess, it distracts me,
Makes me think of things I
Do not want my mind lingering on
Pick it up or it’s gone
I demand
It’s my house now
No clutter
Just do what I say
When you have your own house
You can be a self possessed secure person
Comfortable
In sloppiness
I was not wired that way
I’m sorry
D-Man and His Daughter
For a father and his daughter; working together -Programmer and Designer.
Sorry DM…no rhymes!
A violin playing gentle man
Appearing gruff, hesitant
Fluorescent yellow soda
caffeine, in hand, making
Nicotine circles looking
To the west for a change
In the weather, always a chuckle
A daughter lovely indeed
Her angel wings
Invisible to the naked eye
Quiet rescue abundantly given
Sometimes requested,
Sometimes simply a gift
Our Two lucky charms
Perfect sense they
Parent and child
Unspoken pride seen
In the crooked smile
Upon reference
To the other
Understood affection
Designers of dreams
Colors images and codes
Talents shared to
Provide experiences
Magic not understood
Fixing, creating
Appreciating both, always
Mommy Regrets
That blue dress, it was tight through the hips
Thank yous not written after receiving a gift
The extra cookie when I was already stuffed
Yelling too often when I’d just had enough
Little girl dreams I didn’t make come true
Saying good night without an I love you
Purchasing cards instead of creating my own
Feeling too busy to chat on the phone
Lunch dates promised but not ever made
Not stopping the bully, I was just too afraid
Packing my bags, always something I miss
Hurried goodbyes and forgetting the kiss
Not reaching out and holding you tight
Reminding you always it will soon be alright
Breakfast with Buse 