Slate Grays

my hands are dry and rough from working
my eyes are small and used to squinting
my stature average, verging on petite
I have thin skin and veiny feet
my complexion’s poor, my tone is pale
genes say my bones will be quite frail
I have no nails as they are weak
my voice is too high when I speak
my mother thinks my hair’s too long
I think all compliments are wrong
I’m a sceptic, sometimes too much so
though I try to be fair to friend and foe
my opinions strong, my manner shy
in public you’ll never see me cry
in private I keep emotions tame
my anxiety has that cause to blame
I hate to shop, but buy a lot
no place could ever be too hot
I dislike snow, I dislike cold
I’m terrified of getting old
I have good friends who understand
I’m always later than I plan
I’m sensitive, and feel more pain
than I let off, or care to explain
I never intentionally drink alcohol
and for this, flunk social protocol
I dislike freckles, and have a bunch
I bend, I slouch, I slump, I hunch
I get depressed but never treat
I just stay up late and never eat
somehow, I’ve seemed to manage this wreck
to keep my addictive tendency in check
though these faults I easily admit
I’d like to think there’s some good to it
I’ll never regret the time departed
for when I love, I love whole-hearted

    

      

Copyright L.M. 2008.

A Word of Grace (December 2006)

it’s in her style
paths of words streaming
seeming
beaming
their peace upon us all
as we sing out delight
at the voice in our heads
perhaps mouthed in pain
or wreathing
or the simple hurt of breathing
barely there and yet
a final stanza’s set
forgiving all we weren’t

unopened in the eyes of many
sitting all alone
in waiting and impatience
wondering at such
use of passive tense
for not all eyes can see
splendid verbose beauty
but sit here we

gliding fingers highlight text
whose passion rises ours
left only to second-guess
whose life personified
yours or his
hers or mine
ignorant of time
and so it settles
her adorning mind

    

    

Copyright L.M. 2006.

(My sister had a different interpretation for this poem when she read it; she thought it was about the Virgin Mary….. have another read and you might see why she, and I now too, can glean that meaning from it…..)

Background Noise

somewhere in my backmind
off to the left
cooing
a mother’s voice
consoling
I’m not sure for what
but it’s relaxing
and I could use it

I’ll be sure to thank her

Copyright L.M. 2007.