Poem #11

Not royalty,
but spread out
on royal purple soft sheets
queen sized bed
beneath your tiny form
fevered head
resting upon my pillow
and I wouldn't wake you for anything
Spread over the bed
are Jedi knights,
casualties of the war
they fought as you lay down,
resting
until sleep overcame your tiny body
All around you are remnants
of half-eaten crackers
ground into the soft purple sheets
but I wouldn't curse them
not a single Jedi,
not a single crumb
across my royal purple sheets

Poem #10

Across the parking lot
we walk,
hand in tiny hand
dodging rain drops
and eager parents
in shiny minivans

His oversized
GI Joe back pack
slung over his shoulder
his step eager
his smile wide

We walk toward
matriculation
we walk toward
his future

And when I let go of his hand
for him to walk inside
one of us cries

Poem #9

Standing on the stage
overlooking the crowd
and I smile,
a small smile
knowing what they want
but wanting to make them wait
loving and needing
the low hum
that begins

a sea of cell phone
latter-day lighters
in the dark room

the crowd chants
those two words
I know are coming

And I close my eyes
listening, just listening
and preparing myself
as the crowd chants
"free verse free verse"

Poem #8

Sully learned a new word;
he says it every day.
He says it during meal times.
He says it during play.

He says it to his father.
He says it to his brother.
He says it to the family cat.
He says it to his mother.

Sully learned a new word.
And yes, I think that's fine
But what a word, oh, this word:
Oh, enemy! "Mine!"


Yes, a poem about the spawn. There will likely be more. This is the junior spawn, a nearly two year old who has discovered the pleasures of "Mine!!!" He says lots of other things, but this is his favorite at the moment.

And it is a rhyming poem. So much for free verse.

And now I have the idea for my next poem already.

Poem #7

I fear that someday soon
I'll have to visit them
in museums,
observe them in cages
Brainy girls
with spectacles
smart chicks
reading heavy books
containing multi-syllabic words
Intellectuals
protected by thick glass
to keep them from extinction
They're so beautiful
in natural habitats
so beautiful, all
with their heady brilliance
I couldn't bear
to see them caged

Poem#6

And this, kids, is why Kimberly doesn't try her hand at rhyming poems.

What if Medusa
tried to seduce you?
What if she sighed
and looked in your eyes?
Would you play with her asp-y hair
or would you be too stoned to care?

Poem #5

I am living on Writer's Block
no distractions
or ideas here
a quiet neighborhood
undisturbed
unrelentless
peace and quiet

I am living on Writer's Block
desperate for some interaction
with characters
or plots
I would settle
for stumbling on creative word play
lying about on the sidewalk

But here in Writer's Block
such things don't exist
it is an exclusive neighborhood
and today it seems
too exclusive
for Writer's Block
is a party of one