Category: Poetry

by PAULA

speak to me
when the dirt and gravel are
drowned out
and I can’t hear the ambulance sirens
two blocks away
wailing
for a chance
to be
speak
to the crackles of a leaf that never
had a chance
the drops falling
on an aluminum mailbox
that are a medley in themselves
the tiles along a fence
a paradox of paradise
home to three cats and
a gypsy in a flower pot
warm crackles
light up even
the burnt-out stars
God’s footprints are my radio
echoing across a polluted atmosphere
the booming, the air fronts
warm and cold alike collide.
opposites attract, and when they meet, they’re fire
in the sky
smoke on the horizon
in my mind I can
feel he soaked socks
clinging to my feet
as I pranced about
on my porch

by PAULA

Times were better when
goldfish went to heaven
and not to the sewer system’s
pipeline
When, being home didn’t seem
like a chore
When doing chores was expected
and you never knew what a
whore was.
There comes a time in every
adolescent’s life
When they hear the truth
about Santa Claus
When they lie awake
and can’t sleep due to
the yelling in the next room
When claws are gnawing at
your insides, trying to decide if
one drink will hurt them
If on night is too long,
too cold,
better spent
alone.
If one hit will rock your
world
and leave it spinning
or leave you begging for more.
Kids, don’t be so ready to find a
love
To lose your parents’ trust
Let your grades plummet
Don’t give up
because once will never be enough
and just when you think you’re done
your past pops right back up
in your face
and your drawn toward it
again
Your stuck
between wheat you love
and what you’ll never get enough of
So hang in there
don’t give up
don’t give in
don’t let the other side win
When they say the grass is always
greener
it’s a lie
Once you cross over
you’ll find
that shiny green grass
wet with morning dew

by PAULA

When you’re younger
Nothing seems real.
You don’t know what homicide means.
Your friends don’t sneak out or
Encourage you to steal.
Speed is what you’re after at
recess.
PBS Kids doesn’t speak of love affars.
Crack is the parts of the cement
That break your mommy’s back.
And, back then you never wanted that.
When you thought of cheating
It was at the game of Sorry!
Not on the SAT’s
Or on your high-school sweetheart.
You always hear people saying,
“Enjoy your childhood while it lasts.”
But what happens when it’s
Snatched from your grasp in
The blink of an eye
When you come home to find
Your dad passed out, drunk,
On the couch?
Your mom wiping away her tears
And stifling the cries she
Doesn’t want you to hear?

by PAULA

A lot of times
people don’t look at the
children swinging at the park
or if they do, they figure
kids are doing just that;
being kids, swinging at a park.
They stroll by and hear the
squeals of excitement when one kid
jumps off
and lands catlike
and the rest “ooh” and “ahh”
at him in adoration
then they keep walking
nearing their destination in mind.
No one cares why
the kids are there
rather than at home on this
cold October evening
why dusk is creeping in and
the young ones are laughing
like they have all the time in
the world.
What if they have nothing else
to cling to but the
rusted steel links that discolor
their sweaty palms?
Because three blocks away
their mattress and sheet are
the only things in the house
that hug them.
And when their dad snorts
Ritalin
and their mom ran out
two years ago
who wouldn’t want to sleep in
the slide tunnel?

Because no one notices
they’re never there
and you don’t think anything
of seeing them
swinging
every time you go walk by the park.