Ode to oodles of poodle puddles and other nonsense

oodles of poodle puddles

we whispered together with glee

then hooted a gaggle of giggles

my very best friend and me

under the bundle of blankets

all higgledy piggledy pie

we giggly wiggledied

my dearest love and I 

over and over we repeated

our ding-dong dilly sound rhymes

we laughed so hard we choked 

such willy nilly silly billy times

then we'd stop a bit when we had

to be very adult and grave

but one would look at the other

and that'd set off a hoot-howl wave

the more they said to grow up

and quit being childish is the worst

we try to be good but only

manage to cackle till we burst

To the intense ire of adults 

whom we actually are too

we don't intend irreverence but

to stop laughing, just how do you?

we tried pulling our faces

biting cheeks does not help

covering our mouths just ended 

in a blasting snort-honk-yelp

we never laugh at other people 

we never mock or ridicule

we've been the butt of mean jokes

that are not funny and only cruel

we laugh at innocent reminisces

the same ones through the years

they bring such joy and mirth 

even sprinkled with some tears

so if you see two grown adults 

wailing and clutching their side 

don't judge us too harshly 

our joie de vivre just won't hide

I spent my whole life having 

to be too serious and mature

to go back to those black days

I could not and would not endure

The pendulum swung too far

to the bleak and gloomy side

now to find balance it must 

in other direction swing wide

Maybe someday we'll quell 

and discover staid sobriety 

for now I'm utterly enjoying 

the good health in hilarity 

Sing an evensong of fog

night fog is my friend

in her grey coat of rain

I'm in her and she's in me

It's then that I feel no pain

Just two gray girls

to us the rain feels fine

actually preferring dark wet

to the bright sunshine

Fog to the benighted 

is dull, ugly and plain

colors all washed out 

to grayscale by the rain

Even the synonyms 

Get us grey girls wrong

so harsh and judgmental

misunderstood is our song

Gray they say is soul-less

passionless, dull and pale

insipid, wan, lifeless 

used up, worn and stale

I say they're short-sighted

the ones without the soul

the boring and the limited

half ones who're never whole

They're not lacking vision

They just refuse to see 

They've blinded themselves 

so they only view in 2D 

They're soldiers not thinkers

tippling the Kool-Aid

being only what they're told 

gullible and well-played

I feel sorry for the poor

dimmed and sightless eye

that leaves without living 

never even able to cry 

Come to the dark blue side 

it's gloaming out right now

we'll meander the dark'ning path

I'll be glad to show you how

For the nicest dreamings

look past the color scale

go beyond the Kodachrome

to the many shades of pale

They're not obvious but

commoner than you think

like fairies, you only miss them

if you turn away or blink

gloom isn't a bad word

as many folks attest

it speaks of quiet settling

ours minds down to rest 

But before we go to sleep

let's take a little peep 

if lovely is what you're after

night is where to seek

beauty in deep woods

silver, purple pearl night

silhouettes of fiddler fern

skeletal in dark light

A shadow box of figures

like bones in an x-ray 

a negative in fogged shroud 

the evening creatures at play

a living zoetrope outside

What larks, Pip, have we

nature's own kaleidoscope

no admission, it's all free

Quick don't miss this

shadow and light trance

the flora and fauna waltz

in their after-hours dance

And the only way to view

is to sit with fog of night

I promise you'll never see

such a magical play of light

Strip down all day colors

past reds, verde and blues

to muted opaque tones

misty-moon and twilight hues

listen to our windchimes

as on the breeze they twing

a private little evensong

hear the faraway bowls sing 

this is the language of the dark

the symphony of bell and chime

the distant wail of night trains

lovely woodland lullaby time

So are you ready to leave

the chromatic world behind?

Just for a short while to

find that foggy state of mind?

Then tell your charcoal story

use words, ink and pen

if you don't like it no worry

you can start all over again

The shadows will still be there

when the colors have gone away

because deep dusk and gloaming 

is always here with us to stay.

Hallelujah, let's be dreamers. 

Happy Birthday to me

Let me preface this poem by saying that while I do appreciate the kind things my now family has done for my birthday, I don't really care for big deals made of it. My family of origin wasn't either. They were more interested in themselves and their other kids. So I'm not used to or comfortable with being the center of attention, especially for a birthday which everyone has one a year. I do,  however, find it a good time to pause, bookmark and consider. 

Why is it some people make 

such a big deal of their day of birth

as if they had accomplished 

some huge feat of priceless worth?

Why do they act so arrogant 

and entitled to crowns worn

instead of just recognizing 

all they did was to be born?

There are probably a lot of reasons

some of arrogance and pride

while others over celebrate

because as kids they had to hide

But strangely the hidden ones

are often the ones who don't 

celebrate themselves at all

while those who should cut back, won't  

There's something very telling 

about someone who celebrates themselves

with great gusto while expecting us  

to behave like their helper elves

It says they see themselves 

as exalted and on a higher plane

it's quite awkward to behold 

when a person is so vain

It's even more difficult for us

who were not celebrated

having to honor too high fliers 

reinforces just  how low we rated

we're already expected to honor 

everyone else at our own expense 

especially the already too puffed up

it's such hypocritical nonsense

Once I got a little boy's toy 

some birthday gift for a girl teen

then expected to share with tots

a free sitter is how I was seen

their birthdays were holy days 

of obligation and I must attend

with costly gifts I couldn't afford

they were so damned easy to offend

A $.25  stinky used shirt 

was good enough for me

they made sure I felt shunned

giving daughter two a new PC

Maybe my rant about birthdays

now makes a little more sense

their greed demanded big bucks

while begrudging me a few cents

gaslighting that I was transactional

it's not just about what we spend

but when I was doing the giving 

I'd better shell out without end

my birthday was a time for them

to humiliate, hurt and shame

I'm just happier to avoid

their crazy and cruel game

The way to heal as I see it

is to see us all as God sees 

The proud and haughty he casts down

while exalting the meek and lowlies

So for my birthday this year

I'm giving myself permission to be

done with catering to big heads

and work on enjoying being me

I'll give if it makes me feel good

but if giving hurts I will not 

the beggars can just keep begging

I've nothing more for that lot. 

God bless the moon and God bless we

I love our earth moon

she shines with ambient light

her job is to guide us to sleep

with her quiet night bright

In daytime we need our star sun

Her energy and broad day light

but come the evening dusk

we need dear moon's twilight

I'm a child of dark light

being a lunar girl suits me

calming souls in darkness

is my own true destiny

I'd rather be reflective 

I'm happy to immerse

I'm just a little satellite

not center of the universe

(thank God)

we each have a light that's true

we can choose to shine or not

but it comes from a higher power

we tend to forget that a lot 

We think we're the alpha and omega

on us God should attend

Like we're gods and goddesses

When it's to Him we should bend

We let delusions blot our light

we get into mischief of all kinds

When we hog the glory and 

get too big in our own minds

when God is in charge

the source, power and light

when we stop blocking him

he gets the job done right

my grandad loved a song

about letting the lower lights burn

so sinking sailors can find hope 

when to that light they turn

God is the lighthouse 

he's the mighty Fresnel lens

But our job's to light the shore

so boats find happy ends

I'm working to keep my 

little birthday candle bright

It's better to start a spark

than curse the dark of night

The moon and me are pals

we each know our place

I'm happy to be the shadow

I'll let the sun light up space

Being a shadow is not bad

unless you're expected to be

just a reflection of other people 

or a piece of property

I'll be moon to God's son

all day and all night

but I'll be damned if let them

alevet again douse my fire light

So that's a contradiction

do I reflect or do I shine?

Well I think it's a bit of both

God's the big light and the little one's mine

Remember Stellaluna the bat?

her names explains the plight

Like her we all are

both moon and starlight

"Let the Lower Lights Be Burning" (Paul Phillip Bliss, sung by Tennessee Ernie Ford)

"I see the moon and the moon sees me" Meredith Wilson

Stellaluna Janell Cannon

I've been to the mountains in a place with no name

I've been to the mountains 

in a place with no name

with faceless, nameless people 

Alone with all my pain

Left behind and out by parents

from wherever it was that they went

a scared little six year old

her mind all busted and bent 

no one said where they went or why

not my known names and faces 

nor unknowns on whom I was dumped

left with strangers in strange places 

they just left without me

without even waving goodbye

in a hurry to be gone

I literally wanted to die

They did this quite often

as I now adult recall

The first time was the worst

I really hit a stone wall

In a place called "camp" 

1000s of miles from home

with no ones and nothings

no number or people to phone

How would I survive

What I'd eat, how I'd sleep or where

that was not their concern

I didn't have anything to wear

no answers were given 

knowing nothing but fright

Didn't even know what to ask 

in the darkest dark night

like nightmares only real

the OG free range kid

who would help I knew not

mostly I just cried and hid

I had a bunk it turns out

But I wasn't to know

no one took time to explain

in their big rush to go

I was the youngest kid by far

The older kids knew what to do

I had no grown up to help

So I hadn't a clue

I have little memory of much

But a pile of logs in the cabin

I thought we could stand them in a circle

and all of us sing inside them 

then kids were buying candy 

from canteen they called it

but parents left me no money

when outta there they lit

a lady found me wandering

and asked why I was sad

I didn't know how to explain

I thought she was mad

Then she understood 

that I wanted candy too

she gave me a dime and a nickel

So I wouldn't be so blue

I don't remember parents 

just being left behind 

and I can't remember her face

just that the lady was kind

Later I was left again

I do remember that place name

the Island of Metlakatla

but the facelessness was the same

No one said why not ever

still haven't to this day

why it was so all fired important

for them to go away

Alaska was supposed to be 

a place to missionary

seems they forgot their first mission

was to poor little ole me 

I would have liked to help

I'd of been a good missionary

But since they didn't take me along

I assumed the problem was me

What terrible thing must I have done

to make them not love nor care

what kind of child is left alone

not knowing with whom, why or where?

Now he's dead so I can't ask

what the hell went wrong

And all she does is lie

and change the words to the song 

Looking back I see it was habit

the camp was not the first when

they abandoned their kid to her fate

it happened again and again

In fact it happened so often

it came as no surprise to me

when they showed up at all

was the biggest shock to see

Wandering alone was the usual 

with no adults to be found

from age four not knowing where

or even if they were around. 

Looking for Lady Serenity

To heal the pain in me

Easy does it does it best.

after years of hurry hurry

it's time for me to rest

But it's a struggle for me

to let hypervigilance go

to stop the all the catering

and go with my own flow

Years of abuse by narcissists

how I despise that word

their shaming and mocking

they're all so bloody absurd

cruel words and dirty deeds

going round in my head

like a record player still skipping

they don't even hush when they're dead

too lazy, selfish and disobedient

when I gave up my life for them all

oh and oversensitive to their "jokes"

how my childish breasts were too small

So now rest don't come easy 

it's difficult to ease my barmy brain

sleep only comes with nightmares

Which just perpetuate the old pain

Whatever this means, I'm trying

to let tranquility be my guide

the proverbial haystack needle

there's very little peace inside

Searching for Lady Serenity 

so my long-lost sister can lead

hoping that together we two

can plant fresh mind seed. 

If he was my dad instead of my husband

What if he was my dad

instead of my spouse? 

I would have had a home

not just lived in their house

I would have had a bedroom

and a cozy-soft warm bed

with pretty pink gingham sheets 

and a fluffy pillow for my head

He would have known and cared

what I was doing, where and when

not ignored and left me wandering alone

He would be a worried mother hen

If I was left unsupervised 

or let wander too far away

he'd be livid with those who did

and send them on their way

He'd watch and keep me near 

And if I went away

he wouldn't rest until

I was home to stay

He'd vet people with wary distrust

He'd ban creep, perv and lout

He'd protect me from weirdos

instead of seeking them out

We'd have tea parties 

with Raggedy Ann and Bear Bears

with popcorn and juice treats

we'd sit on tiny wobbly chairs

He'd cut hotdog pennies 

for my siblings and me 

with toothpick kebabs 

and baloney triangles for tea

He would have held me

proudly on his lap

he'd tuck me in at night

And always bless my nap

he'd have read me stories

and fallen asleep with me in his arms

He'd shield me against evil 

and any and all harms

He would patiently brush and comb 

my Lady Godiva brown hair

He'd have left it grow long

Not chopped it thread bare

he'd paint me piggy toes

with polish of poolside blue

he'd hoik me into my tights 

and kiss my knee booboo

He'd have made sure I knew

and that I'd never forget

I was loved and special

not something to regret

He wouldn't be perfect 

because no parent is

but I wouldn't care 

cuz I knew I was his

I would be wanted, treasured 

whatever I was would be fine

he'd love my imperfections 

even more because they were mine