2008 Collection


I remember
     Sunrise or sunsets?
     Ants in your sleeping bag.
     Surprise ice cream visits.
But I don’t remember much else.

I remember
     K-Mart kisses.
     Mixed CDs.
     Slip on shoes.
But I don’t remember much else.

I remember
     Hidden meaning hand squeezes.
     Talks on the roof.
     Stupid displays of affection.
But I don’t remember much else.

I remember
     Philosophy talks.
     Friday night sleepovers.
     Grape juice and Blackstreet.
But I don’t remember much else.


I remember
     Late night religion.
     Smiles across the room.
     Blue lights reflected on dark windows.
But I don’t remember much else.

I remember
     We were too young.
     You were too far away.
     You didn’t love me anymore.
     You never wanted me.
     You chose something better.
And I did remember it all…

(It is you who cannot remember.)

                                                               I try not to remember that.



I am found in quite a predicament.
For thoughts discovered
Have caused inward dissent.

It is not merely his words or the smell of his skin.
Rather something he triggers
In the chambers within.

I long to be near him, to hear his voice.
Thought mentally I oppose
My heart has made its choice.

I worry not about what Fate holds in store.
If he simply cares
I’ll not ask for more.

The future, love, rejection in me you’ll not find.
Only if he will spare me
But a few moments of his time.

For I do not care for things I cannot control.
I simply relish the moments
When his figure is near my own.

I’m not sure if my love is ready to be spent.
God all I can say is
With him I am content.



Snow down drifts upon the air.
Like quiet clarity.
And I watch and see.
As each one rests.
They quickly melt away.
And from drops they fade.
Into places unseen.
By the human eye.

And I sit and wonder.
As each one departs.
Without his eulogy.
What happens after?
Where do they go?
My insignificant friends.
Of quiet clarity.
If, by chance, some remain.
It’s only to be a cushion.
Of any traveler’s step.

Take me home.
Or, better, far away.
As I have no home.
That cannot make me restless.
For I see no other clarity.
Than the friends that soon.
Melt into the ground.



You stole a kiss from me.
The one that lay upon my cheek.
And then you read me poetry.
That set me
Upon a pedestal.



‘Self Portrait’

Circles covered.
When figures come near.
To remain undetected.
Like silent prayers.
And emaciated fingers.
Of Winter’s ghosts.

*Date Unknown*

I am from shiny woks.
Sitting over piles of old mail and medical papers.
I am from cylinders of medicine and vitamins.
Next to bottles of Fabuloso.
(The finest smelling universal cleaner I know.)

I am from an outdoor junkyard playground.
Where in some place exists.
The tallest tree I’ve ever climbed.
I am from Auntie Rose and Auntie Esther.
Who say, “Kumusta kana?” when they com over.
And, “Sige na,” before they go.


I am from Food Lion that’s within walking distance.
Where I buy a plastic juice bottle and Starcrunch for fifty cents.
I am from tables full of Lumpia,
Pancit and Lechon.
A little slice of my mother’s homeland.
Seven days a week.

I am from plastic bins piled high.
Everywhere imaginable.
I am from secret messages, old photographs and lost loves.
In shoeboxes under my bed.
I am from three unfinished diaries
And two and a half books filled with poetry.



Don’t whisper in my ear like you know me.
Your presence cannot pull me in.
Though you may know and manipulate
My secrets, my shameful sin.

Don’t say my name like you know me.
I made no introduction.
Careful when you draw near
For my Light may be your destruction.

Dark phantom of the night.
My hidden adversary.
No matter how many visits you make
My soul, you’ll never carry.



Like a pejorative to my image, I began so high. And upon first sins, I am taken down so far. Caught in the circle of man’s gravest error. As I look round and round, going everywhere I have already been, I realize there’s no escaping this sin. Which negates all else that I try to be. How to love others-when I don’t love me. Caught in the circle that has no end. For the start is the finish, and round it goes again. How to escape this deadly trap in which I chose to ensnare myself. There is no getting out; the pejorative takes its toll. On an image that once shone brighter than gold. But I’ve tainted the mold God made of me. And now instead of gold all I can see is and image that cannot possibly be beautiful. No one to convince me but God and myself. Though He tries to reveal His creation in me, I’ve already chosen the circle, my fate. I’m looped in the worst of mistakes for it has no beginning and it has no end. And it’s too late to start all over again.



Little girl holds her daddy’s hand.
She overheard things she can’t comprehend.
He holds her tightly on his lap.
And she begins to cry.
He wraps his arms around her.
As she rests her head against his beating heart.
So she knows he’s always there to be her comforter.

It must be nice.

Little girl sits upon the floor.
Just like me, she’s been hurt before.
He wraps her up and keeps her warm.
As the moon fills up the sky.
And he smiles and whispers in her ear.
As they watch neon lights unfold before their eyes.
To make sure she still knows she’s beautiful.

It must be nice.
Little girl looks upon her son.
He smiles at her like she’s the only one he sees.
And he clings to her, his tiny arms around her neck.
As she sways him and gently presses him to her chest.
And he cries aloud when she cannot be seen.
As she’s off preparing things for him.
So she’ll know he always needs her around.

It must be nice.



Dreams, upon waking, are set free from our pillows. And leaving they float just when Sun replaces Moon, searching for the night air. Like a Winter’s breath dreams dissipate upon meeting dawn’s radiance. We close our eyes tightly once more, as that brilliant day star soars high above our beds, thinking those moonlit creations will find their way to us once more. Their essence fades within the light and become distant forms of something we once knew but cannot be sure of, like looking upon a silhouette. Dreams fade and take on new forms in every star-filled blanket prophecy our minds can create.



I float in a sea
Of yellow hair
And shiny rings
Full of promise
And as these waves
Toss me about
I realize
I cannot drown.



Sometimes hope is like a prayer unheard.
For once your heart speaks the words,
     They dissolve into the night air
     And your mind awakens to despair.



I found another porch to swing on.
And my heart sighs
     At the paint on your fingers
     And the paint in your eyes
     At the steel you pick
     In the music that ties
     My words to your song.
I found another porch to swing on.
And I hope not another I’ll find.



Too many thoughts in my head
That never will connect
With the man you are trying to be
It was good for a while
But I think that I’ll
Just stay here in my own dream
And you’ll write me off
As some crazy girl
That you thought you might
Be interested in
While others says
That a spark I made
With them
Died before it could be
A Flame

So you’ll tell your same stories
To a girl who’s more willing
To mold more naturally
To you
She will not relent
And you’ll not repent
For using the same pattern
That I’ve already viewed
And you’ll write me off
As some crazy girl
That you thought you might
Be interested in
While others say
That a spark I made
With them
Died before it could be
A Flame

Just hold her hand
And forget who I am
It’s okay
I didn’t want it anyway
Wrap your arms around
Her side
And forget that I
Cannot be held in



I found you in April
You left me in May
And not much else happened
On the in between days
Save a few shy smiles
And talks through the night
Oh, how my heart hoped
That you just might

But to my chagrin
As the story goes
Nothing did we begin
And my heart refolds
Back to where it was
Before you came along
As each day in June
Moves me further on

*Added for Song*

So instead of a song
Telling a story of
The things we’d done
When we fell in love
I am forced into
Another conundrum
So I simply…hum



There is a hurt
That runs deeper
Than the pain
That brings tears
With a stolid face
And unmovable lips
You felt

                                                                           But loneliness.



If I were your wife:
     You’d read poetry
     While I sat upon your knee.

Oh, what a life.
That would be.



Let’s just go back to the beginning.
When you were just a poor kid
With long, ugly hair.
And I was just a bookworm
Completely unaware.
Of the wheels that are now turning.
In the chambers of my heart.
I had them off many years ago.
But somehow in the here and now.
They’ve started working again.
But not with simple pining.
For things I desire.
And do not actually want.
It’s something more refining.
Faith. Hope. Love.
Things I thought could only be given.
To my Father in the skies.
But the wheels.
They keep going round and round.
For something, not quite found.
Just take me back to the beginning.
When you were just a friend.
With sweater vests upon your chest.
And I was happy hiding.
Behind all the rest.
Of the things in between us.
That kept you from seeing me.
For once removed, I looked right back.
And now I cannot be blind.
So now, even when I shut my eyes
I see what I cannot live.
A knowing touch, a kindred spirit
Of what I thought could not exist.
Those wheels will not stop turning
Though I pray it constantly
Perhaps in the morning
I’ll wake to be
Back to the start.
Once again free.
Hidden behind all that was between.
Our eyes.
Before they met.



I had a thought that turned into

     another world I never knew

     it closed the door to Childhood

     and now I can’t go back.


I had a thought that changed You to

    the father that I always knew

    it hid Your love from my view

    and now I can’t believe.


I had a thought that changed Your truth

    into something that had no proof

    it painted You distant and aloof

    and now I can’t press on.


I had a thought that made me fall

    back to the heart with concrete walls

    it silences my loudest calls

    and now I can’t be free.



In my mind, miles away
While all around me music plays
And boys and girls masquerade
I begin to thin

Beauty queens win all the eyes
Including yours, the only pair that I
Wish saw me as your one desire
But now they’ve found her

Foolish to think I could replace
Or be enough to win the place
Where only the beauty of her face
Can rule over the throne of your heart

I am nothing but floating matter
In your eyes nothing more, nothing better
To buffer the noise and clatter
From you until your love is near.


*Date unknown*
‘For Jeff’

The cold cannot stop the blossoms

    Of the Cherry Tree

    But the cold stops me

    The cold stops me


On Sunday morn

My sleep not pacified

But it was

For a dear, old friend of mine

When my eyes awoke

His remained closed

His precious soul

To Heaven, flied


The cold cannot stop the blossoms

    Of the Cherry Tree

    But the cold stops me

    The cold stops me



They came and went

To mourn the loss

Rejoice the ascent

Though I remain still

Travels unfulfilled

To the place where teardrops fill

The last place he ever went


The cold cannot stop the blossoms

    Of the Cherry Tree

    But the cold stops me

    The cold stops me




Thank you for visiting my online writing profile. My husband, Ian, and I also have a collaborative recipe blog where we share how we make the things we love to eat! If you'd like to take a gander, please visit it at: ianalexiscook.food.blog

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