The Shopaholic’s Prayer
Clothes, shoes and bags.
I find great jo in well-stitched rags.
Cotton, silk, poly blend.
Lycra, spandex you are my friend.
On days I’m bored or looking for peace
I roam the racks and find release.
Some smoke or gamble or even drink
Some ponder in solitude to think and think.
I make my way to the dressing room door
The limit, 8 items?
There’s room for one more!
I search and wiggle into each outfit
Until I know this one is it!
I strut and I smile a great, big smile.
When I debut this look, I’ll sashay down the aisle.
I don’t spend much, in that regard I mustn’t fail.
Practically every item I buy
Is always on sale.
And when the adrenaline leaves and I’m feeling woozy.
This day is not done yet,
I’ma buy me a smoothie!
A wayward poet’s poem prayer
I did not go to church today.
For that I’m truly sorry.
I could blame my period or turning the clocks ahead.
Being too lazy to get up from my bed.
But can I still give you praise from my humble house?
Can I use my Sunday morning to praise you with my pen?
It’s one of the finest gifts you’ve given me.
It’s my favorite thing within.
When I write I feel closest to you.
It’s like you are speaking through me.
The words flow and flow.
And I write and I write.
You know this is the real me.
Today I did not gather the strength
to sit amongst your beautiful children in a pew.
But Father God, I hope it’s no offense.
You must know I love you.
I fell quite short today.
No fancy dress or elaborate hat.
Just sweats, a pen and paper.
Please accept my poem
in the offering plate today.
Thought I Found a Man
I thought I found a man.
He had all the parts.
Or so I thought.
He had long arms to hold me.
A wide smile to make me melt.
Eyes like pools of light to brighten my world.
Surely I had found a man.
Strong two legs to hold his frame.
A job, his own home.
He had a name.
hands and a chest on which I’d rest.
Surely I found a man.
He said the right things for a while.
And then I noticed that wasn’t a smile.
The light in his eyes were slowly fading.
Who is he?
This is not the man I’m dating.
So I looked at myself.
Surely it was me.
Same eyes, same nose, same hair.
Same breasts, same lips, same but legs and all the rest.
So why has he changed?
No longer like the start?
I thought I found I man.
But I found one with no heart.