Weight: A Poem from My Book “Unsettled”


I take up space
because I’m allowed to.

My place in this universe
is forgiving, soft, and flexible.

The outside doesn’t always match the inside;
but what if it did?

What’s wrong with the outside?
I’m larger than life with a body and mind that’s thriving.

Head up. Chin up.
My defiance brings me home.

My curves are gorgeous,
my freedom is mine,

and I relinquish the weight of your words.

A Poem from an Anxious Mother

A New Promise


I’m just a tired parent
overprepared with anxiety and wet wipes.
You’re an everchanging little girl,
yet I stay in place.

Pick, pick, pester.
Put your clothes away.
Clean up your toys.
Put on a coat.

I don’t want to be angry all the time.
You don’t want me to either.
My anger is fear —
a need to protect you.

You’re my one and only.
A raised voice,
a quiet tear,
a new promise.

I’m raising a reflection
of my own little universe
and it’s time
to expand our horizons.

Learn, grow, discover –
I won’t stand in your way.
It’s your path
and merely my guidance.

Let’s let go
of the things that don’t matter
and focus on the love
in front of us.

In this – your eighth trip
around the blazing sun,
let’s see the good in the world —
and each other.

A Poem About Poverty and a Rally Cry to My Neighbors


Visit the lights and glamor of New York or LA –
I’m somewhere hidden in the middle – in the America you won’t see.

Week after week, paycheck to paycheck –
I’m one car repair, one medical bill away from disaster.

I mercilessly cling to cruel reality with the whitest knuckles.
Don’t let me fall – parachutes don’t exist in these parts.

I bundle up my flesh and bones –
winters and bare cupboards in the North are awfully cold.

Food or shelter? I can’t afford both. In the richest country in the world,
it’s a fight for survival. We shouldn’t have to choose.

My struggle doesn’t define me but my pride won’t help me here.
Reach out or go without.

Help doesn’t trickle down from above.
We’re on our own. It’s us on the ground helping each other.

To the outside, we’re only a statistic
but we see the people – our neighbors and friends, our city.

We talk. We share our resources.
Grab a hold of the lifeline we created. We’ll lift each other up.

Get a free meal at the library. Visit the food pantry at our kids’ school.
Feed our bellies – and also our minds.

I have hope that this isn’t forever.
This is our community, our home – we’ll make it a better place.

Throw us a rope and resurrect our purpose.
Our dreams are buried under decades of greed but we’ll reclaim our future.

As Americans, but more importantly, as humans,
we are in this together. 

  • A mom from Toledo, Ohio USA

A Couple of New Poems about Death and Family

Even with everything going on this week I was still able to crank out a couple of poems — and I’m pretty proud of them. Sorry, they’re a bit depressing.


The Conclusion

It’s unforgiving and final –
the conclusion of your story.
You hope to slip into the darkness
unscathed and ready
but our end is unpredictable.

Each day brings you closer to your goodbyes –
if a goodbye can even be said at all.
Your memory lingers at first
but time passes and everyone must move on
without you.

Savor every connection a little more
because your demise is always just around the corner.
Not every finale is grand
but we all end up the same –
crumbling into nothingness.

Say what you need to say
before the silence
and don’t look back
because your countdown
has already begun.



I’m little
in your eyes –
forever beneath you.

Control me,
silence me
as you always have.

My little voice
is unwelcome –
my words mean nothing.

My little existence means nothing
if it doesn’t make you
look good.

When I stand up
you assume
I want to fight.

I just want to be heard,

Sitting at your table
takes more than blood.
Stay complacent.

Tolerate stinging judgment.
Keep the peace
no matter the cost.

But the cost was
my presence
and now I’m no longer little.

What’s worth the risk?

I have the best job in the world! I paint and write poetry every day. When my shift ends, I go home and do the same thing. I have envisioned this kind of life for as long as I can remember and now it’s actually real. I am so fortunate to get to do the things I love.

At one of our recent writer’s groups at work, we had the prompt “what’s worth the risk?” I immediately thought of my daughter. She was a high-risk pregnancy due to a medication I take. Here’s the poem I wrote:


The Risk in the Storm

A tear-soaked past
and a broken brain
were met with resilience
and an abundance of love.

The idea of you
was met with resistance –
the biggest risk
in the smallest package.

You came into this world
in lightning and thunder.
It was the longest night –
out of the darkness came your light.

You were once a dream out of reach
but now I lift you up
to taste the stars
grounded in my purpose.

Six years of giggles and tears,
six years to the moon and back.
You can fall down but get back up
because I promise my love is for life.

You’re the littlest girl
with the biggest heart
and brightest smile.
Let your storm change your world.


Now it’s your turn — what’s worth the risk?

Inner Turmoil: Mean People Suffer, Too

I had a grandmother who could be very judgemental and just downright mean. When she died, I learned more about her life and realized she was miserable. It’s kind of weird how that works out — if you’re miserable, you want to make everyone else miserable, too. Does anyone else see this play out with people in their lives?

I wrote this poem a few days ago about another person close to the family. This person has been absolutely horrible to me — selfish and disrespectful — but unfortunately, I think we share some of the same struggles. It’s really hard to feel empathy for someone who lacks it, but it’s there.


Push Me Away


You pushed
and pushed
and pushed
and when I broke,
you pointed your finger at me –
a classic case of
villain playing the victim.

You fabricated your facts
to ensure I was gone for good.

You tried to build an image –
a good person
with a good life –
but we saw right through it.

Carry on
with your lies and drama –
I feel your sadness.
If you weren’t miserable,
you wouldn’t treat me this way.

Months of silence
and broken hearts go by.
Despite the damage you’ve caused,
I hope you get the help
that you so desperately need.


I just have to keep reminding myself, “feelings are temporary.”

Watch Me Rise (poetry — not as much rage as before)

Watch Me Rise


Cruel words hurt
but lies transform relationships
into piles of dust.
Blow them away
for some inner peace.
If it’s light enough
to be carried by my breath,
it wasn’t meant to be.
Find a place
where your worth has weight.
Blow by blow
she knocked me down
but watch me rise
as I show her the door.
I wish growth
for both of us –
separate, in different directions.
My life goes on
without her in it.
Self-respect intact –
move forward from here.

Letting You Go (More Rage Poetry)

Letting You Go


My pen is my voice
and my fight has not dwindled.

Tears, rage, and sleepless nights –
you wasted my time and energy.

You broke my heart
but not my spirit.

Your bullshit will only exist
in my rearview mirror.

Your judgment belongs in a waste bin
and I’m taking out the trash.

I’m reclaiming my life.
You no longer have a place in my tired brain.

Empowerment comes
from letting you go.

Deep (Rage Poetry)



Betrayal runs deep –
the toxicity in your veins.

You poisoned my outlook,
my family.

A painful breakdown
leads to an equally painful breakthrough.

Your lies define
your place in the universe.

When you stomp on my dreams
you only get your shoes dirty.

My future is mine –
you won’t have a part in it.

Thank you for showing me
when to walk away.

Update on Writing Projects

I wanted to post a little update on my writing projects.

Freethought House, the publisher of my poetry book, was also going to publish my memoir about mental illness, recovery, and atheism. However, they recently had two people resign and they are no longer able to move forward with my project. I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with it yet. Maybe break it up and post it here or maybe find another publisher.

I recently submitted two entries to a short story contest. I rarely write fiction but I really enjoyed working on my entries. I am now convinced that I should spend a little more time working on fiction. Winners will be announced on October 31st and I’m currently looking for more contests to enter.

Also, I will be submitting my erotic poetry book to a poetry collection competition later this month. I have been working on this book for a really long time and this is the kick in the butt I need to wrap it up. 

I have been struggling with depression for the past few months and recently had a med change because of it. While I’m waiting for the meds to kick in, these writing contests seem to be the distraction that I need. I love to write and this is giving me something to work towards. I’m having a lot of fun with it.

As always, I am so grateful for your support. I will keep you all posted on my projects from time to time. Wish me luck with the contests!