Quiet - Silent

 

Quiet - Silent

6/17/2025

 

I grew up in a house, that was as quiet as a crypt,

And me just like a page so blank and nondescript,

While I’d tiptoe around on eggshells, and mutely there I’d sit.

Never was there a loud sound, no words spoken harsh and clipped.

We just stayed quiet – silent, as my parents were not equipped

To hand out praise and love, unable to stick to the script,

We just stuck to the silence, hoping it would never get tipped

Past the point of mere negligence to the script getting flipped

Becoming abusive. So instead along we just skipped

Holding on to the oppressive silence, mouths not to be unzipped.

Price of Blood

 

Price of Blood

6/17/2025
 
“Blood is thicker than water,”
Ancient words in a dusty tome,
But does it still stand when they keep on taking
Leaving you drier than a desert bone?
It doesn’t matter if the taking is physical
Like money, or blood, or land,
Or if it’s something mental,
A pain even harder to withstand.
It’s not worth staying in that place
Even with the price of blood,
You deserve to flourish and be at peace,
So you can shine just like the sun.

To My Dad

To My Dad

6/12/2018

My dad has done so many things, to help me get through life

When I was a child and growing up he helped me through all strife.

There was a time when I was young, and I hurt from getting a shot

My dad was there, he held my hand, and then he picked me up.

And when we were young, without delay, he would come and play with us

He’d pretend to be a papa wolf and would join without a fuss.

He ran around, down on all fours, on the living room floor

And howled to the moon with my sister and I, but he also did much more.

When I was hurt and couldn’t walk, he helped me get around

He helped me to class, and waited for me, and didn’t make a sound

Of complaint or aggravation, he just helped me on my way

And through my life, it’s been like that, he helped me learn each day.

He helped us with our homework whenever he had the time

And he taught us important lessons even though we thought that a crime

Cause we didn’t want to listen and we thought it was such a bore

But later in life, I realized he’s right, and I wished I’d listened more.

My dad has always been there for me, he taught me wrong and right

He helped me through things big and small, and things turned out alright.

The Gypsy and the Pilgrim

The Gypsy and the Pilgrim

4/3/2012

One summer

I spoke

With my Grandmother

And she told me stories

Of her time

As a child

With her sister

And father,

Who was an Italian Gypsy.

All I really recall

Where stories of a house

In the grass,

And playing with her sister,

Who she no longer knows,

Because one day

Her father disappeared,

Leaving her

And her sister

Behind.

But my Grandma also told me

About her adopted family,

And stories of their history.

Of how her adopted Grandmother

Met her adopted Grandfather

But they were both travelers

Going their separate ways.

They were not meant to be

Although they fell in love.

So when their children,

My great-grandmother

And great-grandfather,

Met by happen stance,

They fell in love

And righted the balance.

Then they adopted my Grandmother

Who birthed my father,

Who made me.

Though my Grandmother identifies

As an Italian Gypsy,

She was raised by a family

Who descended from Pilgrims.

Two vastly different peoples

But two similar ways.

Two families of travelers,

Two people who had no home.

But who am I?

A Gypsy or a Pilgrim?

Do I have Gypsy soul or not?

The answer?

Both…

I am Both.

I have a Gypsy soul

As well as

A European frame of mind.

I am a Gypsy and a Pilgrim.