Pulling Faces (NaPoWriMo #15)

Photo by Eren Li on Pexels.com

As the youngest child I squirmed
The moment a baby came into view.
I could count on my mom’s giant
OH then a massive, gargoyle grin
and the goo goo gah gah
ridiculousness that would bubble
over and ooze on the child.

I didn’t remember this face used on me,
But only because I out grew it.
And maybe I thought she should
Look that way at me, even then.

But mostly, I was just embarassed, of the
fool
my mom would be.

Fast forward. I saw my friend’s infant, yesterday.
My face instantly contorted,
“OH” then all teeth, instantly
rewarded
with a toothless giggle.

What can I say?
I learned from the best.

I Smell Like Me (NaPoWriMo #14)

I smell like me.
I am who I say I am. Which meaning do I seek?
Martha? Oh lady, mistress?
Max, a diminutive of greatness?
Née surname Balsiger, of the Palzing region,
A rush of blood recognition when I’m in Bavaria.
Adopted to Torrens of Torrance
of Torrance north of East Kilbride or of Glasgow.
Married to Despain meaning D’Espagne a
French pointing labeling: “Spaniard.”
Married to Frazier.
Sweet French kiss of strawberries from a Scottish vale.
The Bard asks, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/
By any other name would smell as sweet”
And I smell like me.
MaxieJane Frazier
Née, again.

Cure for Cancer! (NaPoWriMo #13)

For the napowrimo.net prompt of what headline do you wish would come out tomorrow?

If tomorrow’s headline could only read
“Cure for Cancer–millions upon millions saved!”
I truly care about only one of those millions.

If the giggle little me is surpressing in my favorite sibling photo
Could be the extra sensory perception that,
really,
We will be okay.

That, the girl next to me,
That the sister I have always known,
That the person who has been there for me,
Every single day of my life,

Could be saved.

The only headline I want is personal.
And global.

You Should Have Seen Us (NaPoWriMo #11)

Dear Future Me,
You’re going to be better, right? Than I am right now? Please drop me a line and let me know it’s all going to be okay.

Dear Earlier Me,
You should have seen us. Serene and, is it placid? Better than placid because we’re vigorous and right there. But when the moment turned–there are an infinite number of these moments–we didn’t turn too. For example, when we were riding Gus, maybe the fifth time when we were both becoming comfortable with each other, he skittered sideways from the poles that had been there all week. Before, we might have bent his head around, spinning to a stop, gasping through what might have been. Running the multitudes of bucks and bolts and falls and injuries before the spook had its second step. Instead, we added leg. Instead, we moved with him. Instead, we danced the diagonal, turning the unexpected energy into poetry–a leap into the future and harmony. An embrace and shaping that became beauty. You should have seen us, relinquishing at least enough control to learn how to soar.

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