Visit Me on YouTube

I’M ON YOUTUBE (again)! This video won’t win an Emmy or go viral, but it’s finally giving me the opportunity to start promoting Warren County Days, the sequel to Opal.(publisher issues now over!) If you read Opal, you’ll see what happened to characters you met there, and you’ll meet new ones. But Warren County stands alone if you haven’t read Opal. If you’ve read both, thank you and I’m honored. If not, both are available on Amazon. I think you’ll find something you like, so spread the word. And check out the YouTube video. Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close up.
YOUTUBE.COMwww.youtube.com

Poetry Friday 6

Parents lose children to mental illness, drugs, alcohol, death, and even unwelcome distance. Sometimes it helps just to say, “Yeah, me too.” Understand a mother’s heart in this piece from my collection, Little Boy Lost.

Forged in Pain

There is a hollow place where the hurt was.
And a little rain falls.
It glowed once like a smelting pot
Spilling over with the ache of your perfect pain.

But the burning place cooled and hardened
Taking the shape of despair,
Looking something like a heart,

And then it broke.

Poetry Friday 5

Parents lose children to mental illness, drugs, alcohol, death, and even unwelcome distance. Sometimes it helps just to say, “Yeah, me too.” Read this from the collection Little Boy Lost
Son Shine
It seemed a magic season
When as one of us he’d come
To bring the light into my heart
And steal a piece of sun.

Holding the treasure tightly
In his grimey little fist,
He gave it to me proudly
On that day before the mist.

No thunderheads foretold the change.
No lightning proclaimed his going.
But fog and rain clouds dimmed the light
‘Til only gloom was showing.

The gold and sparkle slipped from sight.
Hide and seek played in the skies.
Star dust traces his little steps.
His smile peeks through sunrise.

Must I just be glad he was here
And left a piece of sunshine?
Or may I cry to say good-bye
To the days that made my son shine?

Poetry Friday 4

Parents lose children to mental illness, drugs, alcohol, death, and even unwelcome distance. Sometimes it helps just to say, “Yeah, me too.” Read this from the collection Little Boy Lost.
Today
Today’s goal is simply, to love.
Not for what you were,
In spite of what you aren’t
Or in fear of what might be.
But because we are linked
In need, joy and sometimes sorrow,
This day we will simply love.

Poetry Friday 3

Parents lose children to mental illness, drugs, alcohol, death, and even unwelcome distance. Sometimes it helps just to say, “Yeah, me too.” Read this from the collection Little Boy Lost.

Rx

3:22 p.m., March 12 and
The messenger’s nearly here
With this year’s diagnosis.
The package will be gaily wrapped.
Sometimes they add balloons.
In the following procession
The addendums march in,
Gilded with the newest rules
Tossing current practice
Like multi-colored confetti into the air.
Gentle reprisals in white lab coats
Complete the cortege with brooms in hand
Sweeping up discarded instructions.
And with a grand huzzah
They toast their cleverness,
Present the gift,
And leave.
3:25 p.m., March 12 and
Nothing’s changed at all.

Poetry Friday 2

Parents lose children to mental illness, drugs, alcohol, death, and even unwelcome distance. Sometimes it helps just to say, “Yeah, me too.” Read this from the collection Little Boy Lost.

Mother G’s Lament
Red Rover, red rover,
Where has he gone?
London Bridge has fallen
And the words are all wrong.

Hey diddle diddle,
Where’s Little Boy Blue?
The haystack is empty
And the dream is through.

Upstairs and downstairs
I’ve looked for what was
.Humpty Dumpty’s answer is
Not why, but just because.

Goldilocks is sleeping.
Her journey nears its end
The bears are creeping closer.
The wicked queen lets them in.

I take up shield and sword
And step into the fray.
Can I reach you, slay the danger?
And win, or simply pray?

Poetry Friday

As a new feature, poetry will be published here every Friday. Pieces from my collection, Little Boy Lost, will lead the way.

Parents lose children to mental illness, drugs, alcohol, death, and even unwelcome distance. Sometimes it helps just to say, “Yeah, me too.”

Blind Justice
A prophet once said that endurance and pain
Sit on magic scales that always balance out.
That we are not given more than we can bear.




That we sacrifice only in proportion
To what we  receive
That the world is flat,
And the moon, green cheese.

The Children’s Hour

Turning, twisting and wrenching away,
Dissolve, then reappear.
Not in Chalot or a viper pit,
Your room, top floor, in the rear.

A place bereft of childish joy,
A place that’s filled with tears.
Where ice cream tastes like castor oil
And kindness disappears.

Your very private kinder-hell,
A too-exclusive club.
No dogs or girls may enter here.
No laughter and no love.

You’ve built a wall with anger boards
Nailed in place with fear.
You slip inside that secret space
And then you disappear.

I climb the stairs. I speak your name.
But no trace may I find
Of the child I once called happiness,
Of the boy who once was mine.