Emotions On My Sleeve

My Poem "Emotions On My Sleeve" was recently published in Issue 53 of the San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly Below is a portion from it.

This is an excerpt from the Poem:
"EMOTIONS On My Sleeve"

...I’ve never cried so much,

Unless you count a Jr. high break up,
But that wasn’t even to this degree.
Self inflicted pain from the rental pumps,
Back pack pumps, and professional grade too.

It will never happen.

Everyone tells me of their remedies;
Some say the cure is to take their fish oil,
Drink their goat’s milk, or try their wonder herb.
I’ve downed fields of barley grass to no avail.

I’m depriving my son -

Of the greatest nutrition in the world.
Someone even had the nerve to tell me
That the reason I can’t produce milk is
Because I’m not emotional enough!

I’m aching to hold him…

They said I don’t feel enough for my child-
The biggest insult I’ve had in my life!
Even though we’ve known each other for years
They have absolutely no idea

How desperate my love is

For my child, I long to take care of him,
To be his mommy and to protect him;
I guess I hide my feelings very well,
But on the inside, emotions don’t quell...

24 Ounce Baby Inspired a Book

After more than 4 years. I have finally completed "The N.I.C.U. Roller Coaster: Poems and Prayers for Parents of Preemies" It was a difficult labor or love to deliver this set of poems after I delivered this micro-preemie.

I'm praying that it blesses many who are going through the trials in the Neo Natal Intensive Care Unit, not knowing if your child will live or die certainly changes one's perspective on everything in life we thought was important. It showed me what I was made of, I didn't crack (though it felt like I would at times) we got stronger instead of further apart.

This book chronicles the ‘roller coaster’ experience in the N.I.C.U. Not only about my son’s up and down health, but it seemed even more to do with the emotions that I experienced, having a ‘micro-preemie’ child fighting for his life.

Looking for Work...MUSE For HIRE

Muse for Hire

Freelance muse, looking for work;
Motivating your creative works the perk.

I’ve had various odd jobs, here and there,
Writing political manifestos and news letters with care.

I’ve encouraged architects and interior decorating décor;
Inventions never cease, wickets, widgets, and gadgets galore.

Instigating grant proposals, evoking ad execs for their best campaign;
Stirring new flavors for burger toppings, and secrets for assembly line gain.

I’m looking for steady work, this partial resume is extensive, I know it;
But all I want to do for the rest of my days is inspire a true poet!



Photo by: RT Norland

"I Am Not Fluent In Squawk" Published in Issue 52 of SGVPQ

Here is an excerpt

...How long do we have to
Keep on patting his tiny back,
To get the burps or gas
That we currently seem to lack?
Make this sad boy happy,
How can I nurture him to grow?
I hold you and rock you,
Give you meds, but still you cry “No!”

I’m trying to do this,
I need your help, wish you could talk;
I don’t know what you want
Since I am not fluent in ‘squawk’;
Always monitoring
Your breathing, watch you huff and puff;
Turning up oxygen
To make sure you will have enough.

The monitor does beep,
All of the lights are flashing red;
Looking at the numbers,
They show you’re actually dead!...

Submissions Chicken Soup for the Soul

I just submitted quite a few poems and 1 story to Chicken Soup for the Soul, they have a couple of issues coming out in the future, one on Parenting and also on New Friendship...so I submitted

"Slowly Unfolding" Here is a snippet:

Our new friendship is something…kind of like a cloud
Needed for covering when the sun is too loud.
It is like a rare book, aged, you don’t want to touch
Curious of what’s inside, kept safe in a hutch.

For their Parenting Issue, I submitted "You're a Mommy Now", "Never Refuse a Cuddle", I Am Not Fluent In Squawk", "Return on Investment", Welcome to Motherhood", "Discombobulated", and "Shape Up or Ship Out"

Here is "Welcome to Motherhood"

Welcome to Motherhood

Hocking loogies, feeding baby, trying to cough in the other direction;
Mother’s do not get days off, even when they’re full of infection.
The job is demanding, the boss never takes ‘no’ for an answer;
There’re no days off, even if you happen to be dying of cancer.
There is no debating allowed here, no could, would or should;
This occupation is for life; welcome to motherhood!



Photo taken by: Peter Lang (From the Mass Mutual Commercial Shoot October 2011)

100 Thousand Poets for Change - DRIVE BY

I completely spaced it off and didn't even let you guys know that I was asked to read my poetry at 100 Thousand Poets for Change in September. The great poet that asked me to read is Christian Elder (he saw me perform at a book store earlier in the year and saved my info.) So we were in Venice, and event was sponsored by Beyond Baroque Literary/Arts Center. They had so many poets there were 2 stages going at the same time...and this was happening all over the world.

I did a new piece that I'd never done before (it wasn't memorized) Because I didn't want to go with something standard, but as the show was about changes that needed to happen in the world I chose this one.It's tentatively titled DRIVE BY and talks about how the neighborhoods used to be before all the gangs became prevalent and how one little old granny is doing her best to clean up the streets using prayer as her main weapon...here is a portion of it.

To be accepted, you began to bang,
Deaf to her voice, influenced by your gang.
She’s done sittin’ back, just saying a prayer,
Lettin’ you know she’s not easy to scare.

Makin’ sure great grandkids can play outside,
Prays over each barred up house on her ride.
Covers the block with her flock, when they pray;
You’ll see changes happen day after day.

Employment increase and murder decrease
And fear ridden households soaking up peace
Dad’s will come back, screams and anger are hushed
Parent’s get sober, crack and meth are flushed

Crimes in progress, that are set with cocked gun,
Will stop abruptly, then watch the perps run,
Kids will respect authority, they’ll obey moms
Clean up their language –stop dropping F-bombs

Published in Issue 51 of SGVPQ

I was published last quarter in Issue 51 o the San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly.

The poems was Indigestion and Red Fingernails

Here is an excerpt of part of it:

My husband is holding my hand
As I am writhing in the bed;
Wait! I can’t have a baby now,
It’s too early, he might be dead!
And now that I’m thinking of it,
I’ve not felt him move for awhile;
I’m dilated to seven?
I react with a confused smile.

I guess it’s true, we’re in labor,
That explains this horrendous pain;
Still not quite aware that my life
From now on will not be the same.
The nurses prep the tray and tools,
Ready for precise incision;
I yelled “You’re not cutting on me!”
That is my final decision.

They say “But the baby is breech,
And that is what we have to do”;
I wanted a calm water birth,
So he could then just ease on through.
My husband had to leave the room
In order to make each phone call;
I scream “Why do people do this!!!”
My hubby hears me down the hall!