Category Archives: children

by

Step off the chain

There is a giant chain, with links about two feet long each. A ship’s chain. It is lying curved along the ground. On each link is the statue of a god or goddess.

There is one empty link. I am walking towards the link. I am dressed in flowing white robes, off the shoulder, Greek. I am not a goddess.

Something hits me. It is a small square pillow, four by four inches. I made a set of small pillows when I was first married. My husband and I would throw them at each other when we were upset. They would make us laugh. They were so light that they would bounce off anything and not hurt. They also would not break lamps and decorations. I still have this small square one. It does not hurt.

There are other pillows. Larger, couch and bed size pillows. They have ornate covers, with beads, tassels, rhinestones, gems and sequins. I know that when I step up on to the chain, the pillows will be thrown at me. They will hurt, because of the ornate decorations. They won’t kill me.

I stop. All of the other gods and goddesses on the chain are represented by statues, stone. I am the only living representation. I am not going to get on the chain. I am going to make a statue to the goddess and place it on the chain. It will not be harmed by the pillows. I will make it quickly with wood, and then replace it with stone when I am able.

I wake. I think, who is the goddess?

Artemis. It is Artemis, greek goddess of the hunt, archer, sister to Apollo, midwife, protector of young virgins.

I wake and read about Artemis.

by

Powergirl takes off

The photo yesterday is of my daughter on the beach, but she is in the air. She is not touching the ground at all. And today the picture is my son airborne at the beach. I wrote this poem in 2005. When I found each of those photographs, I thought of this poem.

Why, you say, does this poem leave the articles out? I went to high school in Alexandria, Virginia. Yes, I was a Titan and graduated from there. In Alexandria when we were really angry or really passionate, the articles got dropped. I try not to talk like this in the northwest, because people get scared. I am also influenced by Walt Kelly’s Pogo and all of the messing around with language and spelling. Stephen Fry on language (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J7E-aoXLZGY) is a lovely comfort!

Previously published on everything2 August 25, 2009.

Powergirl takes off
Powergirl have wings
to fly
She related to
Superfly
She scared when
baby almost die
She scared and yes’n’she
do cry

Husband say she much
too strong
He say she most allays
wrong
He sing and dance de
same old song
He rather she put on
a thong
He played too much with
that old bong

Now man he working
ooh he big
He have no time for
little kid
Not that he ever
really did

She research kidses
summer camps
She study schedules late
with lamps
Pay de money, lick de
stamps

Husband say she got too
much power
He say it nearly every
hour
He grumpy sullen and really
sour

Powergirl got wings
to fly
She look with longing
at the sky
She look at husband
wonder why

She finally realize he
a pain
She take a saw to
ball and chain
Husband he whine and
complain
She wonder why he
goddamn insane
She learn divorce lawyer
nice name

Husband lie on ground and
moan
He whine and bitch all on
de phone
Powergirl leave him there
alone
He drink and fuck and get
real stoned

Powergirl have wings
to fly
She rising rising
in the sky
Kids light as she is
hollow bones
They scared to leave
familiar home
Ride on her shoulders
in the sky
She hopes that they will
learn to fly

by

mermaid

This poem is related to yesterday’s post about learning to keep my temper. I wrote it in April 2012.

mermaid

when I was born, they took my skin

i had no skin
i was frightened
i wept

a witch came
she studied me
i turned my head from the spoon

“Good,” she said, “You may refuse it if you want.”

She gave me the gift of anger

it was the only defense I had

but over the years
I studied and thought
and I found my tears
and I found my fears

i made my skin of tears
this took me many years
one tear for each hair

at last it is done
my skin
is complete

i smile at the sky
as i don it

i slip into the water
and i am gone

by

Evolution

I like this poem: http://seshatwuji.wordpress.com/2014/10/07/birth-of-the-global-brain/

I am posting a poem that I first posted on everything2 on June 6, 2014.

Evolution

The boys keep building machines
They get more and more complicated

The girls use the machines, some

The boys plug in
wire up
log on

The girls tweet
Sometimes they twerk

Some boys twerk too
And some girls log on

The boys write more languages
more programs
they translate from one to another
it all moves faster
They play games where they kill bosses
Online in groups
By the tens of thousands

It all looks a little insane

Don’t worry
Don’t fear

The boys keep building

In hopes that they will come

Some girls build
They hope they will come too

The girls are the Borg Queen
Some boys are too

“We will assimilate you,”
they say

The boys and girls say,

Yes

Please

Yes

by

The Introverted Thinker whines

One morning, the Introverted Thinker was whining. She was about 8, she was tired, the alarm had not gone off.

“I.T., you are whining.”

She continued to droop and delay and whine.

I thought, “I hate whining.” I thought of my parents. My mother would say, “Go away and come back when you can talk to me without whining.” I’ve read parenting books that tell us to say, “I can’t understand you when you whine. Say it without whining.”

But I was in a vulnerable place myself. I thought, when we whine, we are feeling very vulnerable. And to be sent away until we stop expressing that vulnerability, well, is that the message that I want to send? I thought, what do I want to be told when I wish I could whine or when I DO whine? Certainly not to go away alone with my whiny self. I thought: I want to be loved anyhow, even when I’m behaving badly.

I hugged her right away and said, “I love all of you, even the parts that whine.”

She stopped. Instantly. She just stood there in the hug for a moment and then got dressed, ate breakfast and went off to school. She didn’t seem insulted or hurt. It was just as if I’d heard her and reassured her: I am present when you are vulnerable and I love you. The whole you.

Also published on an obscure writing website in August 2010.