Singing sweet sweet lullabies (I am from poem 2012)

I am from the rumble and tumble of mornings full of dogs
A small earthquake vibrating the house foundations

To sleepy nights

Both house, people and dogs inhaling...

exhaling with a gentle whoosh



From long, dark, velveteen evenings at the end of a dog leash

Coasting through the night

a time for philosophy

And we do talk, letting the words and

 phrases rush out into the cover of darkness



I am from the mom and dad I love

To the parents I never knew

From my three brothers and two sisters,

Not counting fuzzy memories of

foster siblings passing through



I am from yelling and whooping with

my little

sometimes aggravating brother, Tao,

From Nate whose philosophy was,

"only good spaghetti sticks to the ceiling"



To Angela who sang sweet lullabies

 at my bedside when I was small

And Janelle, my other sister

where loving each other

 was a long two-way street



I am from venturing on the edge

Sticking my head out the car,

Into rushing wind

My senses overwhelmed and hair whipping

A myriad of flickering, colorful patterns dance beneath my closed eye lids, the sun beams creating a kaleidoscope effect



To relaxing with a book

sprawling flat out against a tree branch

Floating above telephone lines

Nothing but a hand preventing me from succumbing to gravity

a trip to the hard cement sidewalk below



Feeling as though I am on top of the world

immersed in blue, blue, blue sky

Tasting the first tones of the wind

 and the first to feel

the sun's warm rays



I am from the scratch of my pen

Wafting familiar pungent scents

 that can fool termites

Digging into the paper

 blueish bruises of smeared ink creeping up my hand



We artists are magicians,

creating illusions

with a flick of our hand

a rub of a pencil



I am from music

 my life goes to music as my music goes to life

 intertwined



From pressing my fingers to

vibrating, resin-covered strings

Creating the piercing strains of the violin

To resting my calloused hands on the fretboard of a guitar that makes vibrations soften into sweet, golden honey



 I am from improv-cuisine

Scanning and grabbing anything from the fridge

And "into the pot" it goes

creativeness remains the only constant



I am from "Moderation in life and life in moderation"

 "do you have any feelings"

 "That was the worst thing

you have ever done in your life"

 and oddly, "Poopy puppies"



From an old yellow

the big brown and finally

A little white house with green shutters

 my mother's house



My world is ever-changing, but the memories are forever

The good and the not-so-good memories

and most often the random memories

A glimpse of face

A puddle choked with leaves

My dreams

Entirely me.

• 
• 2728 of 7018
•