On our way!

Aug5

Shoebox poem . . . Ya know something? I kind of miss these days every now and then.

I was on my way
with children in tow
when all of a sudden
I heard something blow.

A diaper exploded,
and that big poopy mess
started making me gag
I hate to confess.

We were wiped up and powdered
and again on our way
when screams rang out,
“Oh, what now?” I begrudgingly say.

“He touched me again.”
was my sons reply
and his eyes welled up
for his crocodile cry.

“Get over it” I said,
“don’t touch him again.”
“I didn’t do it!”
“You know it was him!”

“That is enough!”
I commandingly yell,
we are gonna be late,
what on earth is that smell?

Oh no, not again,
how can this be,
why can’t this baby
ever just pee?

Again wiped and powdered
and now in the car,
I couldn’t believe
we’d gotten that far,

but where was my purse?
Wouldn’t ya know,
right on the table
will we ever just go?

Purse in hand
and kids all buckled,
I did it at last
I think with a chuckle,

“Okay troops,
we are ready to go!”
Hey . . . where are the keys?
Does anyone know?

Crystal R. Cook ~ circa sometime around ’98

No Escape

Aug4

Wandering and wondering,
meandering aimlessly,
stumbling and tumbling,
hopelessly lost in a
labyrinth of thought.
Whispering illusions
of confusion, delusion,
welcome you in
with delight.
Teasing and taunting
with fragments of dream,
lies filled with truths
wrapped in remnants
of skin ripped from reality.
Every step forward
leads only behind.
There is no escape
from a shattered mind.

Crystal R. Cook

Innocent Embrace

Aug4

The warmth of his hand
softly covers mine
our fingers embrace
as our souls intertwine

Our hands become one
forged in passions fire
strong as steel
soft as desire

Loves innocent touch
sets my heart to race
when his hand covers mine
and our fingers embrace

Crystal R. Cook

*Image by Tony Hutchings on Getty Images

Sensory Overload

Aug3

I see sounds
and I taste colors
I feel words
like grass beneath
bare feet
I feel your touch
beneath my skin
Always aware of
everything round me
Unheard noises
reverberate inside my head
I feel them in my bones
they flow through my veins
I sense the movement
of air as it surrounds me
It never quiets
never stills
Sometimes
it is all
too much

Today is too much

Crystal R. Cook

Why can’t I remember?

Aug2

I know there was something
I wanted to say,
it was there for a moment
then it slipped away.

Oh! Now I remember!
No . . . that can’t be it.
I’m sure it’ll come to me,
just give me a bit.

Now what was I doing
when I first forgot?
If I could retrace my steps
it would help quite a lot.

If only I knew,
but I just can’t recall,
my poor mind is blank
and I can’t think at all.

Oh, just forget it.
I don’t have the time
to dust off these cobwebs
that have formed in my mind.

If it was important
I’ll remember tonight
when I close my eyes
and snuggle in tight.

My sleep will be robbed
and my mind will spark,
it always happens
as I lay in the dark.

I really wish I knew
why all my days are spent
trying to remember
where my thoughts have went.

Well, just never you mind
what I was going to say,
I’ll let you know what it was
if I remember it someday . . .

Crystal R. Cook

The day she found it.

Jul31

I have a dear friend, we couldn’t be more different, yet somehow perfect for each other. She swears like a sailor, I don’t. She is extroverted, I am introverted. She is loud, I am quiet. We’ve been friends since high school and I love her dearly.

Now, my friend can be a bit dramatic at times. Every year she has an age crisis, she’s convinced herself several times she will be passing away very soon. Little things can become very big things and when they do, she always calls me to assure her they are not as bad as they seem.

One such phone call left me in tears, the kind that stream from your eyes during a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Actually, it was a series of calls spanning nearly an entire day.

When I answered the phone she sounded angry, then sad, then angry again. It took me a couple of minutes to pry out of her just what it was that had her so upset. We talked for some time, she cried, I laughed at her. She called me a bitch, I called her an old lady. Before the sun set, we were both laughing and her world was turned right side up again.

I wrote her a poem about her day, as her friend I felt it was my duty to immortalize her ordeal. I was certainly not going to ever let her forget it.

I know a young woman
whose hair was blonde
until the day, that is,
she happened upon
a single gray hair
near the top of her head,
What the heck is this?
she angrily said.
When did this happen?
How can this be?
I wonder if anyone’s
seen this on me?
Should I pull it out?
Will it grow right back,
bringing more of its kind
in some sneak attack?
But then a light bulb appeared
up over her head,
she looked at that hair
and said, I’ll kill you dead.
She packed up the kids
and went straight to the store,
To the beauty department!
she said with a roar.
‘Wash away your gray
in a few simple steps’,
That’s just what I need,
that’s the one I will get.
As she lathered it on,
she said her goodbye,
so long gray hair,
I said that you’d DYE!

Crystal R. Cook

Parade of Fools

Jul30

Conformity is not my norm,
I’ve no desire to fit in.
Societal expectations
are not my thing.
I try to understand
the hunger for acceptance
I see so many
willingly sacrificing
themselves upon alters
of false pretenses to obtain,
but the reasons I seek
elude me.
Shall I slit my own wrists
and allow my essence
to drain, pooling into
the festering puddle
of a fictitious existence?
Shall I don a mask
which doesn’t quite fit
to blend in with the faceless
crowds blindly following
an unseen leader?
A reclusive ghost, this non-existent
circus master serves as shepherd
to a lost flock, leading them
to slaughter with delusive promises,
empty platitudes and hollow hopes.
They follow without question,
shedding their individuality
like clothing too tattered to wear.
A fools parade,
I cannot follow.

Crystal R.Cook

They were the faces of the future

Jul22

My heart is broken tonight. I do not think it is right, moral, constructive, beneficial, or whatever pitiful reasons are spewed by those who plaster the faces of the innocent lost to hateful war on our television screens, our computers, magazines and newspapers. It’s shameful.

People need to know, I get it. We cannot forget the horrors of war. Report to me of the inconceivable acts man can inflict upon man. Tell me of the innocents lost, of the mothers who will never again hold their children . . . I understand the world needs to know of the atrocities being committed.

We need to feel the loss, sadness, anger, or whatever it is we need to feel for whatever reasons we need to feel it. I don’t really know what we need anymore. This world doesn’t seem capable of learning from the mistakes of the past, we condemn them while we continue to repeat and perfect them.

To see the body of a child, ravished by the unspeakable, should be incomprehensible and yet without respect, their images are shoved before our faces. Those were somebody’s children. Not men or women willingly walking into war, aware of the risks, they were somebody’s children.

There is no honor in using their deaths to show how ugly the enemy is, the young on all sides have been murdered. A mother’s grief should never be exploited, her cries and her tears as she falls to her knees in despair have no right to be broadcast for all to see.

All of the back and forth, hashtag prayers for whatever side your political preferences favor are self-serving. Pray for them all. For us all.

Faces of what should have been the future,
children lost to war, tears of terror-stricken mothers,
images of grief-wrought faces twisted in hopeless despair.
They splash across our screens without warning,
burning themselves into our hearts.
Not to avenge, but to incite, no respect for the lost,
no respect for the left behind.
See this child of our country? See his lifeless eyes staring
into your soul? The blood is on their hands, not our own.
They sacrifice the innocent, casualties of war
dying for political rhetoric and vengeful hate.
Senseless. Selfish. Pathetic.
Children become pawns in the bloody battles of cowards hiding
behind babies, sending them to kill with weapons
to heavy for them to bear, burdens that will bury them.
Sickened by the loss, disgusted by those who see
death and destruction as answers to peace.
Peace means victory to an ignorant beast.
Men without honor, people without purpose, countries without pride.
Mine. Yours. Theirs.
Children are dying while men lament the loss of the battle,
disregarding the lives lain waste to their foolishness.
Online are the faces of their victims, precious children
born into and killed by the vile grudges and grievances of man.
They show them, God help us, they show them.
Their little faces photographed and shared without regard
for the sanctity of who they were or what they may have become.
They deserved better in life, they deserve better still than to be used as
propaganda to perpetuate the purposes of those bent on taking more lives. They were faces that should have been the future.

Crystal R. Cook

Slaying Dragons

Jul21

Empty promises,
fragments of dream,
pieces of me
lost, missing, stolen.
I no longer
yearn their
return.
Damaged goods
tossed aside,
replaced with
new and shiny
things, filling
the voids they
left behind.
Loss becomes gain
with release of pain,
relinquished angst,
quells fears
once worn like armor.
Still, anxieties preach,
false prophets of doom,
a dragon hard to slay.
A day will come
its lies will cease,
and in that moment,
I will rest in peace.

Crystal R. Cook

One of the few . . .

Jul20

This is one of the few child themed pieces I’ve written I actually considered a success. It brought smiles to the faces of my children, they giggled and squealed and wanted to hear it over and over again. They would squinch up their little eyes and try to dream of silly animals, they would fall asleep with a smile . . .

Something very strange happened late last night,
I began to hear odd noises, so I turned on the light.
You won’t believe what I saw, you won’t believe what I heard,
I hardly believed it myself, it was simply too absurd!

There where mice in my slippers and hamsters in my bed.
Fluffy bunnies on my dresser and a kitten on my head!
There where roaring lions scratching at the door,
and I could see two crocodiles, but I’m certain there where more!

Birds where busy flying, some were singing too,
I could hear a barking dog and I think I heard a moo!
Turtles slowly traveled across my bedroom floor,
while slithering snakes slid quickly underneath the door!

There was a zebra in the corner who didn’t make a sound,
and a dozen little piggies where running all around!
A great big pretty parrot flew up above my head,
then some silly chipmunks started jumping on my bed!

The closet door was opened up, just a little bit,
it must have been too small for the hippopotamus to fit!
They all made so much noise it soon woke up my mom.
She ran into my room to see just what was wrong.

Her mouth fell right open and her eyes got very wide
when she opened up my door and saw the animals inside!
She called out for my father and my little brother came in too,
who jumped up and started shouting “Yay! We’ve got a zoo!”

An owl hooted softly and then an elephant appeared,
followed by some monkeys and an ape who had a beard!
The house was filled with animals, now what would we do?
Every single minute our zoo just grew and grew!

Mom was in the kitchen and so where all the goats,
Dad was in the closet getting bats out of our coats!
My little brother was in the bathroom filling up the sink
for a line of thirsty penguins waiting for a drink.

“Oh what will we do?” I heard my mother call.
“We really must act fast! There’s a giraffe out in the hall!”
It was completely up to me to rid us of this zoo,
I thought for just a moment, then I knew just what to do!

I politely asked the polar bear who was sleeping in my bed,
if he could find another place to rest his sleepy head.
I thought maybe if I fell asleep I could dream them all away.
The animals where fun, but I knew they couldn’t stay.

So I pulled up all my covers and shut my eyes real tight,
hoping that my dreams would make everything all right.
I slept for just a while and then thought I’d take a peek,
everything was calm and quiet, not a single peep.

The monkeys where all gone, and the elephant was too,
I guess it must have worked because there was no zoo.
No more birds where flying, and no more lions roaring.
The animals where gone and everything was boring.

But I knew how to fix it, I knew what to do!
I’d just go back to sleep and dream about our zoo.
So I pulled up all my covers and shut my eyes real tight,
and when they opened up, I saw such a funny sight!

There where hippos and rhinos, cows and kangaroos,
I couldn’t help shouting “Yay! We’ve got a zoo!”
It used to be hard to fall asleep most every night.
I would pull up all my covers and close my eyes real tight.

Then I’d toss and I’d turn and I’d never get my rest,
I’d think all sorts of things, I’d try my very best.
But now each and every night when I get into my bed,
I just close my eyes and dream of animals instead!

Crystal R.Cook 1994