Poetry Monday: An Angry Child

The earliest memory I have
Is not a happy one
I was four
Somewhere in Ohio
My sisters were 
Eight and ten
We three sat watching
Our parents arguing and fighting
It got violent

I started anger management counseling
When I was six because
A kid tried to help me put away a puzzle
I told him no, but he kept helping
I picked up a chair and hit him
I had to learn
At an early age
Not to let my temper control me
Now it takes a lot to make me angry

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Poetry Monday: Where Do You Go When You Have Nothing and No One?

I had nowhere to go
So, I walked and walked
Until my entire body
Was numb or sore

I ran through a list
Of people I could call
But it was late
And feared no one was awake

I thought they wouldn’t answer
This happened once before
And no one responded
I felt displaced – 

I tried to sleep on a bench
My sore body hurt more
I tried to sleep on the grass
Until the sprinklers came on

I wandered about for a while
When I decided to go home
I first tried to sleep in my car
Cracked the window for air

But all I got were small bugs
Buzzing – buzzing – 
In my ears and everywhere
I gave in and finally

Walked into my darkened apartment
The bedroom door closed
Two months sleeping on this couch
What I wouldn’t give to be alone again

I woke up after others
But the bedroom door still closed
With the clothes from the night before
I left again to be anywhere but there

I sit in a library – stomach moaning for food
Transferring my thoughts and my pain
From my body to the ink to the paper
I just want to be alone

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.

Poetry Monday: One

Sometimes
I
Enjoy
Solitude

I
Always
Enjoy
The
Quiet

A
Peaceful
Walk
In
The
Moonlight
Is
Better
Than
Any
Party

Reading
A
Book
While
Sipping
Some
Coffee
In 
A
Comfy
Chair
Without
A
Care
In
The
World


Enjoy
The
Rain

Walking
In
The
Storm
Or
While
Reading
A
Book
Indoors

There
Is
Peace
In
The 
Lonely
Chaos

Sometimes
Solitude
Prepares
You
For
The
Coming
Storm

From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.