Modeled after “Success is Counted Sweetest” by Emily Dickinson
Sobriety is counted sweetest
by those who never drink
to never know that poison
would allow you always think
Not one of all the drinkers
would admit that this is true
The devil’s tongue inside the drink
is what gives them joy anew
But if you’ve saved your soul
and avoided all the bars
You’ll have a peaceful life
and not toast your soul to stars
wind and commitment
to ski, to time i don’t have
(nor money… either)
grumpy beginnings
end with every ten feet stops
and i want to quit
but then i’m alone
and make this my mountain home
if only a day
their end-of-day grins
make me rethink my lost time
lost heart, yes… now won
Modeled after “Stopping in the Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost
Whose house this is I think I know
His wealth is in his business though
He will not see me nosing in
Or what news I’ll take when I go.
My little girls must think it odd
To stop here, so detached from God
Where money rules the heart’s desire,
To darkest greed he gives a nod.
They pull my wrists and ask to leave
And wonder why it is I grieve
The only other sound’s the truck
That brings his gold out to his sieve
The house is lovely, tall, and grand
But I will not lose where I stand:
With them I have the upper hand,
With them I have the upper hand.
Modeled after “The Debt” by Paul Laurence Dunbar
that moment of giving in
when you know it is a sin
you taste the sweetest nectar
though it makes you a liar
too soon the taste is sour
all because of one hour
exalting joyous moment
will always be monument
then, it washed away your pain
hidden joy was found again
now, the pain’s here forever
if you’d known… you would never.
we’ll never be friends
i mean, she’s just too damn rich
(she’s so nice, i think)
but conversations
that end play dates in our ‘hood
put us in our place
it’s finally done!
it took so long to finish!
now the kids can play!
(unrelated: us
two basement woes, money lost
to floods and landlords)
million-dollar homes
do not need finished basements
but she won’t see that
and we’ll never talk
beyond the superficial
(it’s kept underground)
now the kids can play
1000 square feet: more space
between us and them
dreaded decision
of a home no longer ours
that’s not worth selling
with caution we’ll choose
the path that sets in motion
the rest of our lives
please, a pinch of luck
for the money pit shadow
bought by newlyweds
bring it under light
to shine on our new knowledge
of how the world works
i won’t give in here
too early, too adamant
a long semester
they need the structure
in walls unlike those at home
where they’re free as birds
they’ll hate me for it
but learning is needed more
than a text message
but how their wrath wins
with flippant parents’ lose tongues,
lack of discipline
my daily fight ends
with bickering daughters, cries,
skipping yoga class
table talk of love
afterward: apologies,
coloring, and peace
i will give in here
love lies deeper, lasts longer
flies free as a bird
a mental illness
keeps his secret behind doors
his goal: expose her
but she’s not hiding.
this stigma needs to end. Now.
no more closets, please
she needs compassion
a face grinning with the truth
not a pack of lies
you see, she’s unpacked
the weight loss feels amazing
and eye-opening
if he could see it
he wouldn’t stigmatize her
rather, open doors
yet whispers bend us,
the burden of exposure
too oft hard to bear
if his berating
bends her toward the bottle now
he’s unforgiven
no handsome smile
can bend me back to his side
may her freedom sing
Modeled after “The Guest House” by Rumi
This teaching is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A surprise, a sadness, a frustration,
some momentary celebration comes
as an unplanned visitor.
Accept and accommodate them all!
even if they are a crowd of admin
who violently sweep your classroom
empty of its whiteboards,
Still, treat each guest respectfully.
he may be preparing you for
some new adventure.
The homeless student, the refugee, the defiant ones,
meet them at the door with a smile
and let them know they are welcome.
Be grateful for whomever enters,
because each has been sent
to make your life more than
a forgotten promise.
Modeled After “Cut While Shaving” by Bukowski
Faces
It’s never quite right, she said,
The way people judge,
the way they are two-faced,
Bright smiles for your face,
Nasty words behind your back
It’s never quite right when the stars don’t shine,
when you are stuck behind a swath of clouds,
when the only sight you can see is the nose in front of your face
It’s never quite right, she said,
to take the easy road of lying,
to be a spy, to blurt and feed lies on either side of your tongue,
to be the unreal you
I walked away from the mirror
onto the icy streets,
Faces everywhere,
too afraid to look at my own.
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