Invisbile Heroes

Heat rises from the streets,
sounds heard ,
a cell phone in a distance,
an ambulance siren,
all in the shadows of the white,
pristine stadium along Biscayne Bay.
Million dollar condos,
larger than life portraits,
of the basketball home team,
home town heroes.
The avenue glowing like
a pregnant woman in
her glory.
A walk away ,
the other avenue dying a slow death.
Smell of urine and semen rising
from the street.
Unattractive reality of brothers
living on cardboard boxes
in the street.
Those that drive by afraid to
look into their eyes.
Brothers that once bled
red, white, and blue
in unforgiving foreign green fields.
Long before America
led parades for heroes.
Long before small children
waved their flags in welcome.
In those days,
they were neglected,
set aside,
disposed of.
Their parades canceled and revoked.
Real heroes with no larger than life portraits.

I wrote this for the Anniversary Poetry Contest that was submitted to Nain Rougue. Please meet us here http://dversepoets.com where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

An Empty Chair

There's an empty chair

beside me.

There's an empty place that only

you can fill.

Yesterday's memories live

in the attic of my heart.

In a place that only you can reach

and comfort.

I remain with

words you left behind,

love you gently carried,

postcards of places we've been to,

photographs of moments

of a life well lived.

I have drowned in sorrow,

I have lost my way.

I have carried a scar with your name.

Today

I want to dance in the rain,

and celebrate you.

I want to voice my gratitude to the world.

I want to bottle my tears 

and save them for another day.

I want the wind to whisper secrets

in my ear.

Today I will soar and fly,

today I will live,

today I will celebrate you.

This is dedicated to my mom. Last week I wrote a poem for her as well. This week is three years

since she passed away. I think of her every day but more so when her birthday or

anniversary of her passing is here. I miss her and I remember all our special moments. 

Please meet us here, http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

The Magic That Was You

I inhale the peaches,

red and orange color.

Peaches so perfect,

as if they escaped a Renoir painting.

I seek a bruised one

and I delight that it's flawed.

I wait with anticpation

to slice into it.

I remember you,

gently holding a knife

and cutting into it.

A smile would appear

in the corners of your mouth,

when you tasted the sweetness.

I take a peach to my lips,

the taste almost intoxicating.

I wish I could share it with you mom,

the way we shared so much.

I carried slices of pain,

between mother and daughter.

I held bitterness to unkind words,

unimportant and trivial,

now that you're gone.

I have not forgotten,

the magic that you carried.

Love you scattered.

Your arms that like a blanket,

covered us and kept us warm.

The love that made walls into

a home.

I wish you knew

that I miss you everyday

since you left.

When you visit me in my dreams,

I attempt to remember

fragments of you.

I remain longing for you,

for words I did not say,

those last few days.

You tried to speak

but I could not understand,

your tongue swollen,

your eyes desperate to reach me.

I hid the tears but

you saw the pain in my eyes.

Mom, as I inhale this peach,

as I soak into this life,

I remember.

The longing lingers,

the pain remains

and I wish you were here.



August 26th is three years since my mom passed away. I miss her every day.
Please meet us here http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

His City

I fall in love the minute we land.

Her skies grey,

yet they welcome me.

I take a deep breath,

I feel like I am home,

even though we just met.

She is his city

and so I feel like she's mine.

Her beauty unfolds as I 

watch her awaken from her sleep.

I want to embrace her,

the way she embraces him.

I fall into her,

she is magical at sunrise 

over the Boston harbor.

Red brick buildings,

historical walks,

ducks that come to life in a 

children's book I read to him

when he was a child.

In her streets I walk

feeling alive,

they tease me because my smile

is wider,

my voice is lighter,

they don't know that I am home.

Meet us here http://dversepoets.com where we share our thoughts and our hearts.

Moments Of Our Life

We stumble into Dunkin Donuts 

with a desire for a good cup of Joe.

He cracks a joke with

the girls behind the counter and

they smile, their day

becomes a little sunnier.

We eat breakfast sandwiches,

I watch the faces of those I love,

rubbing sleep from their eyes.

A good feeling washing over me.

We converse on the way to Cape Cod,

small whimsical buildings,

American flags flying in the wind .

A memorial for Kennedy and the Korean war,

I'm proud to be an American.

Unlike my children that were born into it,

I don't take it for granted.

I feel privileged,

a fire burning inside of me.  

We find a restaurant that won

the best clam chowder

twelve times in a row.

Everyone is chatting

while waiting.

My love is like a little boy

as he tastes his childhood

in fried clams.

He smiles and voices gratitude

that we can

and so many can't.

At that moment I love him all over again,

I love them,

I love him,

my moment complete.



Meet us here http://dversepoets.com/ where we share our thoughts and our hearts.