Poetry Visualized

MY WARNING CITATION

(after being stopped after my day-care shift)

Exhausted, overwhelmed,

confused, up-set.

As when a toddler

bellows on the rug.

So small and powerless,

her needs unmet,

she fights me,

but I know she needs a hug.

(My loving parents

would have belted me

or worse ignored my plight)

Though she resists

my arms encircle her.

She can't get free.

"When you relax,

I'll let you go."

She twists and bends

and yet I know

she craves restraint.

She longs to know

that someone's big enough

and cares enough

to answer her complaint.

So we need others

constant, careful, tough.

"Thanks, officer,

for making me slow down.

Our town is safe.

I'm safer in our town."

MOURNING

The room was crowded,

somber, stale, dark.

A wake?

No Shiva!

(and I'm not a Jew).

The widow's look at me,

a question mark.

I didn't know them or

what I should do.

"And who are you?"

I froze.

"I'm Marty's boy."

Then from the back,

"Wait. Marty Fitch?

That guy with duct tape

saved my life."

I felt such joy.

With hand shakes, hugs I stood.

I thought I'd cry.

He was a handy man

who knew each tool.

From holding things for him

I'm sometimes deft.

He wanted better things from me

like school.

I'm older now

than he was when he left.

I woke up feeling grateful,

glowing.

Glad I was his son,

and proud he was my dad.

A MOTHERS SONG

The sea is deep.

The sea is vast.

The winds, they die.

The winds they blast.

Does he think of the sheets on the clothes-lines

As he darts mid the rigging and sails?

Does his ship rock him calm like the cradle?

Is his soup on his chin in a gale?

There'll be no sleep, tonight.

Oh, where sleeps my laddie tonight?

In the tub he was always in soap swells.

In my womb he would bound all night long.

Does he kick when he's dreaming of Neptune

Or does Neptune now join him in song?

The sea is deep.

The sea is vast.

The winds, they die.

The winds, they blast.

Can Sirens sing "Lullaby Laddie?"

Do the Mermaids kiss foreheads "Sweet dreams" ?

On the mast in the squall will he hear me

When in tears to the waves my heart screams:

"Oh, where sleeps my boy, tonight?

Oh, where lies my laddie, tonight?"

I NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD SAY THIS

"The children now love luxury; they have bad manners,

contempt for authority; they show disrespect for elders

and love chatter in place of exercise. Children are now

tyrants, not the servants of their households. ��

Attributed to SOCRATES

Our parents, I think,

taught us to behave.

I know we kids

were often angry, sad.

It seems now happy children

parents crave.

But are they?

Often they seem awfully bad.

Who's pleased

to hear a toddler's harsh lament?

But I improved

from feeling my distress.

What did I learn

when I was pleased, content?

Through service

I gained skills for each success.

Though when my will was thwarted

I felt stung,

safe limits

helped me find my own delight.

To suffer is the cure

for being young.

I made mistakes.

I learned to do what's right.

Of course

I would be happy if I could.

Keen consolation comes

from doing good.

FROM THE CAR-SEAT BEHIND ME

Enthroned within her realm

she asks me "Why?"

Why what?

Can I recall?

(She wants to know)

I answer logically.

"But why?"

I lie this time.

(a phase? a game?)

I let it go.

"But whyyyyyyy?”

She asks again.

I feel attacked.

My face turns red.

I glare.

I clench my jaws.

(If I were you

I would have gotten smacked.)

I use the default setting,

"Just because."

Well, "Why?" indeed.

Don't we all fret and strive to know?

But get the answer--nothing's solved.

I've seen

injustice and addictions thrive.

Small comfort,

waste of time,

and what's resolved?

But asking,

(Joy!)

her learning has begun.

"Not all 'Why questions'

have an answer, Hon'."

A DADDYS LULLABY

Your daddy can do many things for you,

Yet there is one he can't, it seems.

Alone, alone, you must alone

Go find the land of dreams.

And I have taught you many things, but this

May be the hardest of our games,

For each of us must every night

Go find the land of dreams.

But I'll be here to hold you till

You're on your way.

I'll tell you what to do, my child.

Abide by what I say.

Pull your pillow to your cheek, child.

Tuck the blanket in under your chin.

Lie still. Be calm. Close your eyes, child.

Breathe deep, la, la, la, la. Good night.

And if you wake tonight, alone in darkness

To shadows and moonbeams

You'll know now, how, yes, all alone

To find the land of dreams.

I need you now to sleep, not laugh, child.

The night's no time for toys and schemes.

Your daddy, soon, himself, alone

Must seek the land of dreams.

But I'll be here to hold you till

You're on your way.

I'll tell you what to do, my child.

Abide by what I say.

Pull your pillow to your cheek, child.

Tuck the blanket in under your chin.

Lie still. Be calm. Close your eyes, child.

Breathe deep, la, la, la, la. Good night.

FOSTERING AN ODE

FOSTERING

an ode to Miranda's new parents

I wish this baby, flannel, oatmeal, bells,

Balloons a kite, a bike, a cat, a phone.

I wish her tryouts, outfits, ocean swells

And dances, love notes, babies of her own.

But dare I wish her fevers, bruises, tears?

(Who knows what trials life will make her face

(Strip searches, sirens?) When you hear her fears

I hope you'll help (or not help as the case

May be) her try until she fails and then

Despairs and asks and learns and tries again.

Your burden's great. Some parent's can't adjust.

A few (indignant, ignorant) deprive

Their own (as they were once?) betray their trust.

(In hunger, silence, filth some fail to thrive!)

Kids cower, cringe from curses, glaring eyes.

The slaps and belts, kill confidence, pierce pride.

If we are only what we know, then lies

And threats they'll learn (and teach). Some bold, some snide

Their spirit wastes away while wasting time.

Souls curse to cruelty, cowardice and crime.

iii

I'm sure you wish this baby party clothes.

Recitals, ribbons, cars, diplomas, deeds.

By now I'm sure her nursery overflows

With books and puzzles years beyond her needs.

It's tempting (gardeners graft and florists dye)

To change, improve (each flaw makes you despair)

The best are mere cosmetics feats (why try?)

Because her first milk tooth, her first gray hair

(And when and where) already are foretold

With each cell, within the spiral code.

Some babes are colicky, some chatty, dumb.

She'll walk, she'll talk (no matter what you do)

When ready. (No doll. No slate.) She'll become

Her own self with (or else in spite of) you.

So while there's much you cannot do, there's much

You can (and must!). Good goals, safe limits, fair,

Respectful choices,(just your ear, your touch)

All help. She might with your concern and care

Transcend misfortune, sail through strife, create

Her chances, master skills, transform her fate.

Her needs are simple, water, food and air.

Her tasks, to eat and shit and sleep and dream

(Or scream). She needs you now (while in your care)

To keep her warm and dry. All she'll achieve

In life is based on these. So let her be!

Because her business now is to perceive,

Test time and space and distance, gravity

To learn to sing and count and climb and slide

And spell, to learn to value, judge, decide.

If not from you, from whom will she begin

To master brushes, thank-yous; learn to live

With others, right from wrong, and how to win,

To lose, confront, apologize, forgive?

No gift or gadget could inspire her to

Inspire herself, help her experience

The world, create her memories. For you

Can make her feel she matters, find a sense

Of worth, of family; and (knowing she

Is loved and loving) forge her destiny.