Now That I'm All Grown Up

Now that I'm all grown up, I can eat chocolate before dinner
And stay up 'til 3 AM watching old movies.
I can leave my dirty socks in a pile on the bedroom floor
And undress in any room of the house I please.


Now that I'm all grown up I can have as many pets as I want
And take them all to bed with me.
I can eat pizza for breakfast and ice cream for dinner,
And talk on the phone to my heart's content.


Now that I'm all grown up, I have to watch my shekels,
And make sure I have enough money to pay the bills
Keep a roof over my head
Food on the table-- and in my tummy.


I have to reply only on myself.  For everything.
And sometimes I get weary,
From being alone,
And doing anything I want.


Now, that I'm all grown up, I miss my parents
And the life we had together.
The meals we shared.  The drives we took along the lake.
The company.  The consistancy.


Now, that I'm all grown up, I don't feel so grown-up.
I look back at my childhood and still cover my ears at loud noises
Look up at the stars
And cringe when I hear animals cry out in pain.


Knowing half my life is gone
And half, with luck, remains,
I don't feel all grown-up at all;
Just part grown and part older.

copyright 2010 -  Phyllis Perry

Writers on Writing

Why I Don't Write Autobiographical Poems

 

Vengeance doesn't work in a poem,

nor do digs at anatomical parts

or mean-spirited, see-what-I-mean, anecdotal jibes.

For example. you write an epic tirade against "Bob."

Who is Bob to me, the reader?

The fact that he lied, cheated, was lousy in bed,

that doesn't make Bob special, nor does your
problem with Bob make me feel
different about my life.

However, speak to me of Bob's kitchen,

of its perfect, painted walls

of deep and shiny teal with high-gloss white

moldings, (he was into that Southwestern look),

of the way Bob's toast had to be cooked evenly on

both sides, and of Bob, himself, draped,

regally, in a raggedy old kimono,

dragging on a filthy, filterless cigarette, his hand

as graceful as a gazelle in slow-motion, the nervousness suspended, of how each word he spoke was

always articulated as neatly, separately,

yet as packed with juice as a champagne grape –
and I can begin to feel more impassioned.


And when, after several years of cohabitation,
he drops you as carelessly as he flicks

an ash, you allow me to be devastated.

 

by Mary Wallach

Dad's Birthday

Today is Flag Day here in the United States. On this day in 1777, the government officially adopted the Stars and Stripes as our national flag. No one knows for sure, but it was most likely designed by Congressman Francis Hopkinson and sewn by a seamstress in Philadelphia named Betsy Ross.

Today my Dad would've been 108 years old.  Born in 1902, he lived through the Great Depression, stock market crash, world war II and much more.  He went from horse and buggy to the Model T to the Pinto.  Imagine the span of technological inventions and advances in his lifetime.  It's mind-boggling.

When I was born, he called me his "dolly."  Sixteen years older than my Mother, Dad ruled the roost of us four chicks (mom and 3 girls) and we all called him "Dad."  During my childhood he was in his 50's and 60's then had a heart attack at age 59 when I was in 4th grade.

Things were tight economically, and Dad had to go pick coal, before I was born, to heat the house.  Times were lean for this factory worker who made $100/week for a family of five. 
Yet, somehow, we muddled through and always had enough to eat and a bed to sleep in and a doll or two to play with, although I preferred horses & dogs to dolls.

Dad died when he was 74, back in 1976.  I was working at Tiffany's in Beverly Hills, California at the time.  It was a sad day.  I remember the manager calling me into his office and telling me I could take time off to go to the funeral.  Everyone gathered around me upstairs in the lunch room.  I felt discombobulated and confused.  It was a difficult time.

Years passed, but my sadness never went away entirely.  So every Flag Day I feel kind of melancholy.  But I know why.  It's one more loss and one less person who knows and cares about me.  As time goes by those relationships become paramount to living a quality life.  Ghosts of the past are but memories of friendship, fading rememberances of lost love and tender times.

Home

“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

~Maya Angelou

Yesterday I saw a play called Home, written by a local playwright, Suzi Regan.  It was a series of vignettes, by four actors, all about various scenes in and about our homes.  Mom and Dad geting older, siblings fighting, affairs, widowhood, and the myriad of relationships that cross our doorways, paths, garden gates and entrances into the realm and worlds we call our "home."

Fantastic play with excellent acting, writing, directing and sets.  Made me think about my home and how much it means to me.  To come back, from wherever I may roam, and know that there are 8 furry critters waiting with open paws and hearts to embrace, comfort and greet me tenderly.  That's HOME!

To be able to relax, in comfort, on my deck with redwood benches, daydream on my cedar swing, read a book on my covered porch, curl up in my down filled bed, write letters in my cozy study, entertain friends in my gracious livng room, and enjoy roaring fires in wintertime in my country inn-like family room. I love my home, and the play just confirmed my relationship with my four walls times 8 rooms and made me feel happy, grateful and very content.

My pets are part of my home.  I mean the gestalt of all that I consider when I think about the concept of home.  They are part of the fixturs, you might say, the very workings and heart of the dwelling and domacile.  They embody the true notion of "home sweet home" and some of them even have the name as part of their own--Sweetie Pie, Sweetie Pooh, and Sweetie Sue.  All part of my real home--the tapestry of life within walls of love.

A Poem for Today

When I look at the old car

backed into the cleared-out space in the shed,

I can almost understand

those bewildered men who leave

their softening wives in middle age, up-

and-walk-out after decades

of marriage and family, to take up

with some buffed and waxed young thing

with great lines, horsepower

to burn and a dazzling array

of untested equipment.

When I look at the old car's

headlights, dulled with disuse and staring

at me, as if to say, What did I ever do?

Wasn't I always good to you?

Turned over every morning, rain or snow

to start your day? Kept you safe

all these years, mile after mile?

And I'm filled with guilt and say with feeling

You're absolutely right. You were the best. There'll never

be another you, as I glance surreptitiously

at my cute new model sitting in the old car's space

in the garage and explain, You just got old.

You're falling apart. And besides, I say,

I've fallen in love. We're already living together.

And the old car looks like it might be wired

to explode.

So I walk across the yard

and look at the new car,

and it occurs to me that before too long

the new car will be old, the suspension

will sag and things will fall off.

And like the lout who'll use up

his young fling and want to trade in again,

we'll deny that we've put on some miles ourselves,

dump this one in the shed and go shopping —

until someone lays a firm hand on our arm

and says Enough. You just can't drive any more.

"When I Look at the Old Car" by Marcia F. Brown, from What on Earth.

 © Moon Pie Press, 2010.

Yourself

From The Dhammapada: Yourself

Love yourself and watch --

Today, tomorrow, always.

First establish yourself in the way,

Then teach,

And so defeat sorrow.

To straighten the crooked

You must first do a harder thing --

Straighten yourself.

You are your only master.

Who else?

Subdue yourself,

And discover your master.

Be Kind

Kind hearts are the gardens,

kind thoughts are the roots,

kind words are the flowers,

kind deeds are the fruits.
Unknown Author


Be kind whenever possible.
It is always possible.
Tenzin Gyatso
14th Dalai Lama of Tibet


Look closely at the present you are constructing:

it should look like the future you are dreaming.
Alice Walker
American Author and Poet


Are you happy with yourself?

Are you doing what you like?
Gather courage and live the life you please.
Life belongs to those who dare to live.
Author Unknown


Beautiful light is born of darkness, so the faith that springsfrom conflict is
often the strongest and the best
~ R. Turnbull


A tragic irony of life is that we so often achieve success or financial independence after the chief reason for which we sought it has passed away.
~ Ellen Glasgow


We cannot all do great things, but we can
all do small things with great love.
~ Mother Teresa


Our inner strengths, experiences, and truths cannot be lost, destroyed, or taken away. Every person has an inborn worth and can contribute to the human community. We all can treat one another with dignity and respect, provide opportunities to grow toward our fullest lives and help one another discover and develop our unique gifts. We each deserve this and we all can extend it to others.
Author Unknown


When the world says, "Give up". . .
Hope whispers, "Try it one more time."
Author Unknown