Thug Life

Some poems and haikus for the baby boys; Baby Ronnie, Harris, Noah, Ben, Gage, Cole, Nicholas, William, Aydan and Keegan.

Shark in the Lake

They told me...
"There's a shark in the lake!"
They dared me...
"A quarter to dive in!"
It's dumb to be afraid.
My daddy read me a book about oceans
I know sharks don't live in lakes.
But I'm not telling.







Photo Credit: Paul Specht

Haiku: Sand Artist

My boy could play there
In the sand, for hours on end.
Imagination.

Photo credit: Beth Armsheimer

Haiku: Visit to Aunt Agnes

Not smiling for you.
My haircut, stupid toys and
New overalls suck.

Photo credit: Superbomba

Haiku: Thug Life

Pour out a little
Milk for the homies that I
Run with in the hood.

Photo credit: Fashion fever

Haiku: The Park

Aa-aa-ah-hh-hh!!!!
The most fun I've ever had
Don't let go of me!

Photo credit: Lightgatherer

Undercover

If I hold it like this
then flip it over my finger
and grab it on the back
with my other hand
and squint my eyes real hard
that makes me a police man.
Undercover of course.

Photo credit: Unknown

Butterfly Warrior

A silly poem for the baby girls: Mina, Brooke, Asa, Maggie, Lizzie, Ari, Olivia, Emily, Valentina and Bebe.

I may look small
I may look sweet
but don't mistake me
Don't underestimate me
I know who I am
and who I'm not
I love these goggles
I wear them alot
They laugh at me
but I don't care
They knock me down
and pull my hair
But I get back up
I always will
Mom and Daddy told me
I can rule the world
I'm a superhero
In flowers and curls
I'm a butterfly warrior
I'm a little girl

The Snow Witch

Yesterday I was watching the strange Dallas snowfall from my 3rd story window when a woman dressed all in black robes with an owl walked out onto the lawn. I'm not kidding. Narnia escapee? Goth hooker? Harry Potter wannabe? Who knows. Aaahhh...the strange occurrences of apartment living in Dallas, TX.

Black on white
The snow witch comes.
Awakened by the joy
In the hearts of the snow watchers.
She must stop the joy.
She must stop the snow.
Fly my owl!
Fly to the clouds!
Take my curse!
Texas shall not have such a snowfall
For another 50 years!

The Sand Dollar's Destiny

November 2007 - Autobiographical

There once was a girl, of somewhat questionable intelligence, who was walking along the beach in paradise. She noticed something round and orange in the waves and decided to catch it. She splashed and flailed and finally came up with her prize, a perfect sand dollar. Except it wasn't like any perfect sand dollar she'd ever seen. It was fuzzy and covered with little bitty spines. She wondered if it was still alive, saddened by the idea that she should give it up and save its life by throwing it back into the water. Her companions, however, argued that it would not wash up on the beach if it were not already dead or dying.

So the girl formulated a plan. It was a great plan. It was the best plan. It was a plan that would fulfill the poor dead or dying sand dollar's destiny. She would dry it out in the sun, cover it in golden glitter, write the year 2007 on it's lovely side and hang a satin ribbon from it - transforming it into the most beautiful Christmas ornament for her brother and sister-in-law who had been married that very year.

She left the dead or dying sand dollar out in the sun for days while at the beach and carefully, before her departure, folded it into paper for the journey home. A few days passed as the girl returned to her normal life. She left the sand dollar in the paper to continue to dry (for it smelled somewhat less than appealing in this stage of its destiny fulfillment).

Then, one fateful night, (which happens to have been yesterday night), the girl unwrapped the sand dollar to begin its momentous transformation. As the last fold of paper was unwrapped the girl realized the terrible, horrible truth. Not only had the sand dollar broken into many tiny furry pieces, but it was oozing black goo from the inside and smelled like a warm mixture of rotten egg salad and rotten tuna salad.

The poor, dejected girl of somewhat questionable intelligence learned two difficult lessons that night. She learned that somethings are too sacred to be transformed into adornments and, more importantly, she learned that when something smells like that - throw it back!
_______________________________________________________________
Sorry, Ben and Blythe - your present from St. John is fulfilling its destiny on the way to the Dallas City dump.

Sevenling: Scrabble

She's mad because I'm beating her
She usually beats me,
But this time I'm the one who has the W, Y and Z.

Whey and Day and Zone
She can not get ahead
I've hit each triple word score tile...Hey!

She dumped them on my head.

Sevenling: Traffic

I used my blinker,
I pulled in slow and
Didn't brake at all.

She revved up, nearly touched my bumper
Then sped around me
Showing me the back of her hand.

Maybe her breakfast didn't agree with her.

I've Been a Good Dog

I can’t write a letter
with these clumsy paws,
but Santa, I promise
I’ve been a good dog.

I know that you’re coming,
Dad brought in a tree.
It's covered with balls and
toys that aren’t for me.

The lights are so twinkly.
The air smells so sweet.
I know mom’s been baking,
but she won’t share her treats.

So please Santa, come
to this sad puppy’s home.
Bring me some toys.
Bring me some bones.

Oh, please don’t forget me
because I sat on mom’s mum,
barked at the mailman,
and chewed up dad’s gloves.

I know that I shouldn’t
have frightened that skunk,
peed in the bathtub,
or eaten dad’s lunch.

But I am so repentant.
Can’t you see in my eyes?
I even said sorry
to the squirrels, crows and flies.

I haven’t sipped from the toilet
in at least a whole week.
I stayed off the sofa,
I didn’t pull on my leash.

So, Santa, I’ll wait for you
here by the tree.
I’ve been such a good girl.
Don’t forget about me.

Photograph by Nicole Pacetti-Simpson

The Outcast

Once upon a time there was a young woman who lived in a large columned white house on the outskirts of town. She was very poor, living on a small inheritance doled out each year by her parent’s scrawny lawyer, along with an ample dose of sleazy innuendo. She would only get the money as long as she lived in the palatial residence her parents had constructed, so she was tied to the house like a dog on a chain.

Though her parents had died years before, her father’s legacy of quirky outlandishness and her mother’s reputation for condescending snobbishness had relegated her to outsider status with the townspeople, leaving her friendless and alone. She spent her days reading and dreaming of escape. What she wanted most was to leave her prison and explore the wide world, visiting all the places that had captured her imagination in books and meeting people who knew nothing of her family, their ridiculous house and bizarre behavior.