~**Poles**~

The lost but not forgotten

Half torn and wind swept

Advertisements of past ended sales

Nails, screws, tape and tacks hold these items

A yellowing scrap of paper, half torn off by the latest storm

Intrigues my eye

Saying “Denver Post” I try to squint and read the date

As the car starts slowly moving away

I see a poster of a yellow lab named Bruno

As I look a little closer I can see a young child hugging him

In the picture below the big letters saying “LOST”

A poster with bright orange writing catches my eye

I see the date was the previous year in July

Imagining what it must have been like,

For that was one of the hottest summers we have had for a while.

The poster says in big green letters everything must…

The ink had run from the recent snow we had fortunately got.

I thought maybe it said “everything must go”

Coming to the conclusion that is probably what it said

After I went through many different ideas in my mind,

But none of them exactly fit like “Go” did.

The old, new, and unknown posters

Still blow in the brisk winter air

Staying day in and day out

Being joined by new posters daily

By pedestrians walking on the sidewalk

And I wonder does anybody bother to read

The countless weathered sheets pinned loosely on this warn wooden post.

Gummi Bears

This blog started out a school assignment to write a short scene based off of a picture that my Mom found in the news paper, I was about twelve years old when I wrote it...hope you like it!

“Jimmy, tell these men what happened,” said his frustrated mother slumped in the small wooden chair in the corner.
Jimmy stared in to the mirror, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the clock above on the wall of the interrogation room. The police officer stood in Jimmy's line of vision.
“Are you going to just stare at that all day?” asked the police officer.
Jimmy pleaded, “Is Chris OK? What happened to the lady in the store? What’s going on? Where’s Chris?” His Mom stared in to his eyes reassuring him that Chris was in the other room and after he told the man what happened, he could see him, even though she knew it wasn’t true.
Jimmy, a smart boy for six years old, demanded, “No, I want to see Chris now. I want to make sure he’s OK!”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” questioned the police officer who took a seat on the hard metal table.
“While Chris and I were getting gummi bears, those are his favorite, this man walked into the store. He was dressed in black. Chris said He looked like the robber in the movie we watched last night. Then he passed the isle we were in…” Jimmy paused and looked down at his shoes.
“Don’t stop, sweetie, you’re doing great,” urged his mom, tears running down her cheeks. She never thought something like this could happen in such a small town.
“Then the man pulled out a gun and told the lady behind the counter, ‘Hand me the cash and no one gets hurt!’ Chris told me he was going to tell the man we loved him in the movie and he wanted me to go with him. I told Chris that wasn’t a good idea and that I thought something was wrong, but he had already turned the corner. He started yelling, ‘Hey, Hey you!’ at the man. There was a loud bang and Chris fell to the floor. The lady behind the counter screamed, “You didn’t have to do that. He didn’t hurt anything.’ The man turned the gun on her and said,’ open the register and give me the money.’ I ran to Chris and whispered in his ear and asked if he was alright. Then I heard another loud bang, the lady screamed but stopped this time. I heard the bell on the door ring; I walked to the counter to look. The lady was gone and that’s when I called you, Mom.”
Jimmy looked at the corner as his mom wiped tears from her eyes and smiled weakly, “You did good, sweetie, you did good.”
“Now, I can see Chris, right?”
The police officer got up and harshly said,” Chris is gone; he got shot in the head. There was nothing we could do.”
“No! No! That can’t be. He just wanted the man’s autograph. He really thought he was the robber from the movie. Chris can’t be dead!” shouts Jimmy angry about what the officer just told him. His mom got up from the corner and embraced him in her arms as tears gushed down Jimmy’s face. He realized he would never see his best friend again.
Many Years Later...
”…and that’s what happened,” explained Jim to his son, Sam, many years later.
Oh, that’s why we come here every October,” said the young boy looking around the cemetery. “Can I put the roses on the grave, Daddy?” Sam asked while pulling a bag of gummi bears from his pocket.
“Sure you can, buddy,” replied Jim staring down at the head stone and remembering his long lost friend. Sam put the roses on the grave, looked at his dad, and sat on the grass. “Come on, Sam. Its time to pick up your mom from work,” said Jim taking one last look at his friend’s head stone until next October.
Sam grabbed his dad’s hand as they were walking away and asked, “know what dad?”
“What Sam?”
“My favorite thing is gummi bears just like Chris. Isn’t that weird?” exclaimed Sam. Jim thought of the many similarities between Sam and Chris and smiled knowing that through Sam he would always remember his best friend.

Caressing Waters!

I sit dangling my feet off the dock, watching the ships pass by heading away from the bay. I wave to a sailor, watching him slowly drift away, still seeing the rainbow sail almost invisible in front of the fiery sunset. The rays of bright orange ribbon against the deep blue sea are why I sit here, every night in the cool brisk air. Watching the sailors return to their well loved sea, the one thing that will never change for them, the tranquility of sailing in the waters, never knowing what the sea will bring tomorrow.

I stretch my leg out, feeling the water caress my feet with its silky touch. I sink down further, barely hanging on to the dock, feeling the cool waters splash on to my thighs, soaking my khaki shorts. I let go, falling into the waters. I bring my legs up to the surface letting my body drift to where I am floating on my back. I close my eyes, the cool water runs through my clothes, a wave stirs my body. I feel the rush of water across my stomach. My hair looks like brown smoke in the swirling liquid. I can see a lighthouse a little ways away with its lights swerving it reminds me of a carnival ride, bright and friendly, inviting people towards it.

The orange ribbon has disappeared leaving pitch black, no comfort of color, like someone poured tar on my little dock. I hit a rock, pulling myself up, feeling the cool sea air on my drenched body. My clothes cling to my smooth skin. I stay there, gazing at the midnight waters not seeing were the sea ends and the sky begins, resting my head on the smooth, grey rock watching the waters twist and turn. I feel the first drops on my now dry cheek as the rain starts. A slow drip-drop sound creating a nice lullaby lulling me to sleep.

I wake, startled by the now hectic waters, drenched in the tears of the dark rain clouds above me. I dive in to the fierce blackness. The sea is punching me, as the thrashing waters pull my head down. I struggle to breath, the once calming waters attack my fragile lungs until there’s no air left in my body. I float to the surface my eyes glazed over looking like foggy glass. The waters engulfed my heart. My one true comforting friend turned on me sending my life crashing to an end. I see my body floating lifeless in the sea as my soul lifts out of the dampened corpse drifting off, up to the emerging sunrise.

I Have a Dream!

I have a dream that one day-hopefully soon-we will treat each other with respect no matter what age, social class, or education we are from. The rich business executive who has millions in his bank account and the single mom who works two jobs, barely with enough to feed her family, should be accepted and given just as much compassion and respect as anyone else. Every person has a purpose and should not be discouraged by what they don’t have. They should be encouraged by who they are and what they can be. No one should be disrespected because of their belongings or their personal beliefs or their age. Why are the high school dropout and the valedictorian treated differently in today’s society? We all have our gifts and personalities, nothing is different. If you just look at the person standing in front of you, not at what he’s wearing or what diploma he has on his wall, but at his expression of gratitude for simply being treated as an equal.

* April Showers *

The first drops fall with a plop onto the cold pavement, starting the torrential downpour. The gutters start to fill with street sludge gathered from years of cars traveling to their destinations on the old black top. Running, it splashes on my jeans and I enjoy the sense of protection the dark rain clouds give, like their surrounding my town with a gray cover from all the stress and harm in the world. As I watch everyone else bustling for cover in their cracker box houses, I take full advantage of what these sporadic April showers give me—the freedom to fill my lungs with the fresh rain scent while I run for all I am worth on the soaked concrete. I feel the water drip from my hair. I lean my head back, opening my mouth wide, letting the cool liquid flow down my throat. As I fling my arms out, I spin slowly; giving my body to the storm, letting the thunder claps take my heart to its own beat, and the rain drench my skin. While the lightning slowly disrupts my vision so all I see is zigzags of electric flashes for minutes, I remember reality. I trudge home waiting in anticipation for the next April shower.

Random Jeans

a thread
hanging on by a prayer at the edge of the intricate swirled pattern
on the side of the worn pocket
torn at the edge from the constant habit of making the corner into a thumb rest. going down,
passing the thighs to the knees,
soft and lighter than the rest
showing the familiarity she has with this pair of well-loved pants.
one side has a small hole-
I wonder, was it from rough housing with her brother
or tripping on a log in the park.
for I will never know
because I am just a by-stander
admiring the companionship that she has but won’t know for quite some time,
until she is going through her belongings many years later and wonders
why she kept them.
until she examines them closer
and sees the love and memories I see now.
for I know, because I had a pair of those as well.

First Snow

Cold on my shoulders, it falls slowly on me, covering everything with crispy layers, sugar coating the surrounding grass. With the exhilarating effect of the first flakes drifting to the ground, I feel cold through the holes of my Crocks. I shiver, my breath looking like something is on fire in my throat. I fall in to the wet cover spreading my arms wide over and over as my legs follow in the same motion. Drowning in white, feeling my thoughts veer, as the freezing blanket pulls my once warm body deeper, lying there for what seems like a millennium as the below freezing temperatures take all the heat from my body, so all that’s left is a corpse laid in an angels half spread wings.