My bones have grown
strong. Although not
shown, these bones
hold me together.
They make me feel
alive and well. Me:
my bones can’t be
rehomed. Bones
can break, shatter,
and weaken as life
does its job. Bones
come into play
every day when
we say, “I have a
bone to pick with
you” or “You are bad
to the bone” or
Break a leg!” Later,
my bones will be
brittle, and it will
be hard to see.
Until then, I will
roam for as long
that I am strong.
Life, as we know it, flies by
Much like Santa’s sleigh.
Winter is coming; snow is
Falling, as we are calling
Friends, family, and others.
Given the choice, we will
Rejoice. We will find a voice.
We must remember to keep
Each other warm during this
Weather. It is the only way
That it will get better. We’ll
Dance and sing holiday songs
To spread needed love and joy.
Days pass and smiles last as
The holidays come fast. Yet,
The date is set, and here we
Are. Some hop in a car
And others stay in place.
Some dress up as Santa Clause
And others light the Menorah.
There will be Christmas parties,
Kwanzaa celebrations, and eight
Days of Hannukah. Plus, many
Other holiday celebrations will
Occur without any hesitation.
No matter the occasion, rise up
And love each other this Winter.
It’s not too late to participate
And to remove our splinters.
Enjoy the holidays and smile;
Who knows? The holiday cheer
Might stay with us all year.
It’s better to remember
old memories than to
make new enemies.
Memories made play
a big role in creating
words worth saying.
In this life, we must
look back at the past
before realizing life
moves all too fast.
Nothing is forever
except the feelings
you left me. Memories
made are memories
saved. My brain
doesn’t mind taking
time to remember
what others don’t.
Memories made are
set in stone placed
outside this dome
I get to call home.
He was observed: made from scratch.
He was seen scratching away
at the surface: the stubborn dirt.
He scratched long into the day.
He wanted to reach the hurt.
Not before long, the day was gone.
He found nothing here, so he
scratched there. He couldn’t see
as he scratched deep into the night.
The sun came up, and he looked
down and said: “I can make some-
thing from all the stuff I found.”
Tired and dirty, he walked home
with stuff that can never be shown.
He was happy to have dug below
the surface: a place only he knows.
One stone can break
a bone or it can kill
two birds with a throw.
One stone can shatter
a glass home or it can
help build a house
of one’s own. One stone
can make the difference
between what is known
and what is shown.
One stone to never be
left alone: as strong
as my own backbone.
Stones are thrown
till’ they are needed for
statues and tombstones.
IN YOUR DREAMS POETRY 