Miss, you who knows who you are
who kindles me talks to me about all.
the girl I have known longer,
the one who speaks my language,
the one I search for when I am all
tangled up,
needing you
to untie the knots,
the one I can say anything to,
the girl who says all the right things,
figures out the nuances with digital
precision and analyses,
rights my path
corrects my worries,
I hope I do
half as much for
you.

It's a dream childhood
taking the ten fifteen autumn ferry
for school on the other side of the river
little white butterflies
petite pretty ribboned
babbling like river ripples
boarding from the jetty in the sky
traveling below billowing September clouds
living only in now breathing joyous
no worry for a future
ferrying along the river
and now is all that counts
counting by the moments
fairy furlongs
on the ten fifteen autumn ferry.

The zeal of God's Love for our hearts and souls
    cannot be matched or conquered by human willpower;
It can only be rejected by our cursed nature.

Expressions of the abstract,
Thoughts we can't retract,
Exquisite solar towers
of our mindful powers,
Into the glass ceiling,
Collectives of ideas and feelings,
Whence these expressions of abstract?
Thoughts we can't retract......

I have angered The Poetry God!

Who?

The one who decided if my diction is any good, if it has the proper flow...
rhyming, timing ...I don't know!
I'm really having a hard time figuring out what he wants
It's not like there's a syllabus
telling us girls what to do
I love him and he should love me back  too...right?
Unconditionally...of course.

All the while...I am deeply tapping these aging poetic veins
racking my sometimes scrambled poetic brain
releasing unbridled passions, truth the agony....yes
...  unending PAIN!"
all the while pretending
to be just the slightest bit sane!
What does that even mean?

I'm exasperated!
and yes....
I'm sure he'll say
It's all because of my
"Dysfunctional Behavior" isn't it?
I can't seem to get out of my own way?
wait....
what's so great about him again?

There's not much else
I can tell you my friend
other than
that *****
for him....
you might be a "missed fit" to him
but he's the one missing out
on you being AWESOME!!!"

"Emmmm hmmmm you know it girl"

Cherie Nolan© 2016

when the telephone rang
at six in the morning
four days before Christmas Eve
   I knew
things were not right

they told me
   my father had died
   at three in the morning
   and would I please come by
   arrange for the burial
   and collect his belongings
at the senior citizens home
where he had spent
the last four years
of his life

they had rested him nicely
he looked at peace
I kissed him on his forehead
   like I always had
   at the end of my visits
and cast a last long look at his figure
   before the body would be taken away

    and suddenly I noticed
       how big his hands were
    they’d never seemed so prominent before

as if in death they sent me a reminder
of how much he had loved his hands
   for work   for play  for sports
   for fight and for survival
   to point and to gesticulate
      they held me as a baby and
         some times
      slapped me as a child
   they repaired toys   split wood
   built sheds   drove cars and motor bikes
   were patient and precise
   caressed and soothed and loved

they were his life
they held his world

my father’s hands