Semper Ubi Su Ubi
I put on my last clean pair of pants,
and loaded my sweet fella in the car.
Grocery day and we're recovering from the flu.
Everything has piled up.
It will be nice to get out of the house.
Halfway to the store, sweet fella learns the lock to his new booster seat
and unbuckles it.
I pull over and buckle him back in.
It's cold and my heinie feels...
wet?
I brush my hand across my seat...
nothing wet.
I feel the carseat...
nothing wet.
That's strange...
I get to the store.
They know us here and
they love little fella.
I put him in the basket.
I tighten the belt.
A cold blast of air as we walk across the parking lot.
My butt feels wet again.
As I walk in the store, I brush my hand again across the seat of my pants
and I feel the huge hole across the seat.
There is some comfort in the fact that I wasn't wearing dirty underwear,
not much though, since I was wearing none.
heidi
written february 7, 2013
(based on a true story)
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Insight
Insight
So my first 15 minute meeting with a literary agent
Was supposed to help me get information as to what to do if
I ever thought I was ready to submit for publication.
She read some of my tweets, which I thought were funny, and said
That I should try to target parents (did she not notice the
fucking language?)
And that she really didn’t care how beautiful my children
were…
(Bitch, that’s cause you haven’t seen them.)
She said that I lacked insight.
She didn’t read my poetry because she didn’t like the
titles.
She said I should focus more on prose, but didn’t read any
of the flash fiction I brought.
Wait, did she really say that I lacked insight?
Just by reading my tweets?
Did she not look at her shoes when she put them on?
One of us had on cute, leopard-print, ballerina flats, and
the other one had on shoes that wished they looked as good as sensible shoes.
I won’t say which.
But I think you know who in that room lacked insight…
heidi
originally written 10/21/12
this poem us based on a sadly true story. no shoe deserves to be that hideous. I think that the eight month writing block that has ensued was due to a pretty deep depression over that sad footwear. hopefully, i'm over it now. thanks for reading.
heidi
originally written 10/21/12
this poem us based on a sadly true story. no shoe deserves to be that hideous. I think that the eight month writing block that has ensued was due to a pretty deep depression over that sad footwear. hopefully, i'm over it now. thanks for reading.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
dverse Open Link Night: Repost of She's Still the Same Girl
dverse prompt and poem repost:
She's Still the Same Girl
Driving to the office, I tell myself
Whatever they say, whatever they find,
she's still the same girl that she is right now.
You're not going to come home with a
stranger.
You'll love her the same.
She's still the same girl.
I am worried as I sit her in my lap and they prepare her for the test.
She does not like things on her head.
What if she fights?
What if she gets too upset?
Should I just leave with her?
We've gone this long
unsure.
We'll get tests later.
She'll still be the same girl.
Once again, my sweetheart surprises me.
She laughs when the nurse gets Eeyore ready first.
He's so cute! Silly Eeyore!
My girl sits still and even falls asleep towards the end.
I always seem to underestimate my baby.
She's so wonderful.
She's still the same girl.
Then we go and wait.
The doctor comes in.
It's not the news we want.
It's not the challenges that we wanted for her.
My baby.
My sweet daughter.
She is playing as we talk and I love her so much and...
She's still the same girl.
heidi
written 9/7/2011
I have been really blocked since June, but I am trying to start back up. I also think that is has been long enough that I can appreciate some constructive comments on this poem. Thanks, and I hope you like it! heidi
She's Still the Same Girl
Driving to the office, I tell myself
Whatever they say, whatever they find,
she's still the same girl that she is right now.
You're not going to come home with a
stranger.
You'll love her the same.
She's still the same girl.
I am worried as I sit her in my lap and they prepare her for the test.
She does not like things on her head.
What if she fights?
What if she gets too upset?
Should I just leave with her?
We've gone this long
unsure.
We'll get tests later.
She'll still be the same girl.
Once again, my sweetheart surprises me.
She laughs when the nurse gets Eeyore ready first.
He's so cute! Silly Eeyore!
My girl sits still and even falls asleep towards the end.
I always seem to underestimate my baby.
She's so wonderful.
She's still the same girl.
Then we go and wait.
The doctor comes in.
It's not the news we want.
It's not the challenges that we wanted for her.
My baby.
My sweet daughter.
She is playing as we talk and I love her so much and...
She's still the same girl.
heidi
written 9/7/2011
I have been really blocked since June, but I am trying to start back up. I also think that is has been long enough that I can appreciate some constructive comments on this poem. Thanks, and I hope you like it! heidi
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Special Needs
Special Needs
Some people say that I have a Special Needs Child
I have a low tolerance for that
Some say she is a child with Special Needs
that seems somewhat kinder and
more accurate.
It's true.
She has Special Needs.
She needs
Love
Patience
A Chance.
Those things everyone needs.
Maybe we all have Special Needs.
heidi
10/21/12
So someone, somewhere was talking about "Special Needs Children" and it pissed me directly off. Although I can't even tell you the circumstances now. It could have been on tv or something I read...anyway...it did make me think. I suspect some people are trying to be nice and some accurate, but it seems saccharine to me now. My sweetie-pie does have some challenges, but we all do, so how do I discuss it without getting pissed or getting my feelings hurt? I don't know.
Some people say that I have a Special Needs Child
I have a low tolerance for that
Some say she is a child with Special Needs
that seems somewhat kinder and
more accurate.
It's true.
She has Special Needs.
She needs
Love
Patience
A Chance.
Those things everyone needs.
Maybe we all have Special Needs.
heidi
10/21/12
So someone, somewhere was talking about "Special Needs Children" and it pissed me directly off. Although I can't even tell you the circumstances now. It could have been on tv or something I read...anyway...it did make me think. I suspect some people are trying to be nice and some accurate, but it seems saccharine to me now. My sweetie-pie does have some challenges, but we all do, so how do I discuss it without getting pissed or getting my feelings hurt? I don't know.
Friday, October 12, 2012
The Day of the Girl
The Day of the Girl
recognize girls’ rights and the unique challenges girls face around the world.
its first observance
child marriage
a fundamental human rights violation
and impacts all aspects of a girl’s life
denies a girl of her childhood
disrupts her education
limits her opportunities
increases her risk to be a victim of violence and abuse
jeopardizes her health
and therefore
constitutes an obstacle to the development of healthy communities.
globally
around one in three young women aged 20-24 years were first married before they reached age 18. One third of them entered into marriage before they turned 15.
Prevent child marriage
protect girls’ rights
help reduce their risks of violence
early pregnancy
HIV infection
and maternal death and disability
heidi
10/12/12
his is totally a found poem. I got it from the UN website http://www.un.org/en/events/girlchild/. I always feel a little guilty for found poetry. However, I have had writer's block since a mean literary aggent person told me to go to school (pouty face). How's this for insight you ugly-shoe-wearing mean person! Yeah, I showed her. Thanks found poem!
recognize girls’ rights and the unique challenges girls face around the world.
its first observance
child marriage
a fundamental human rights violation
and impacts all aspects of a girl’s life
denies a girl of her childhood
disrupts her education
limits her opportunities
increases her risk to be a victim of violence and abuse
jeopardizes her health
and therefore
constitutes an obstacle to the development of healthy communities.
globally
around one in three young women aged 20-24 years were first married before they reached age 18. One third of them entered into marriage before they turned 15.
Prevent child marriage
protect girls’ rights
help reduce their risks of violence
early pregnancy
HIV infection
and maternal death and disability
heidi
10/12/12
his is totally a found poem. I got it from the UN website http://www.un.org/en/events/girlchild/. I always feel a little guilty for found poetry. However, I have had writer's block since a mean literary aggent person told me to go to school (pouty face). How's this for insight you ugly-shoe-wearing mean person! Yeah, I showed her. Thanks found poem!
Monday, October 8, 2012
I Suck at Friendship
I Suck at Friendship
There are some things that I want to blame on my depression:
that I don't have my PhD
that I want to sleep 14 out of 24 hours
(although that may be the vitamin deficiency)
that I don't want to leave my house
that I am unemployed
that I feel so alone...
but mostly that I am a terrible friend.
I don't make the effort
and I let people treat me as disposable
then I disappear when they need me.
But maybe,
maybe the depression is just an excuse to be lazy
and selfish
and alone
and, why I suck...
No, that's not me...that's just the depression talking.
heidi
10/8/2012
So this poem was just now written after some inner reflection inspired by a post by Shybiker, who has a wonderful blog. She wrote about rejection in tonight's post and it resonated with me. I have a strong desire to be here more often, to write more often. And still I don't. My poor neglected lasagna. I'm gonna blame it on my depression.
There are some things that I want to blame on my depression:
that I don't have my PhD
that I want to sleep 14 out of 24 hours
(although that may be the vitamin deficiency)
that I don't want to leave my house
that I am unemployed
that I feel so alone...
but mostly that I am a terrible friend.
I don't make the effort
and I let people treat me as disposable
then I disappear when they need me.
But maybe,
maybe the depression is just an excuse to be lazy
and selfish
and alone
and, why I suck...
No, that's not me...that's just the depression talking.
heidi
10/8/2012
So this poem was just now written after some inner reflection inspired by a post by Shybiker, who has a wonderful blog. She wrote about rejection in tonight's post and it resonated with me. I have a strong desire to be here more often, to write more often. And still I don't. My poor neglected lasagna. I'm gonna blame it on my depression.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
dVerse prompt: Where in the World
Alien
The sky in Grove Hill is just
weird.
It makes me feel
funny
uncomforatble
ready to fight.
The colors in the sunset are not
real.
The snot string clouds are not
real.
I spend my weekends with you and then I
leave.
I travel 200 miles where my life is not?
real.
Half-way home I drive through
Grove Hill.
Where the sky is
weird.
heidi
June 7, 2012
Tonight's poem is my submission for dVerse Meeting in the Bar: "Where in the World?" http://dversepoets.com/ I have been in an unusually non-science fiction mood lately. So unlike me...hopefully I can snap out of it before I have to surrender my Star Wars, Star Trek, and Dr. Who fan club memberships. Although, seriously, what's the deal with the Sky in Clarke County?
The sky in Grove Hill is just
weird.
It makes me feel
funny
uncomforatble
ready to fight.
The colors in the sunset are not
real.
The snot string clouds are not
real.
I spend my weekends with you and then I
leave.
I travel 200 miles where my life is not?
real.
Half-way home I drive through
Grove Hill.
Where the sky is
weird.
heidi
June 7, 2012
Tonight's poem is my submission for dVerse Meeting in the Bar: "Where in the World?" http://dversepoets.com/ I have been in an unusually non-science fiction mood lately. So unlike me...hopefully I can snap out of it before I have to surrender my Star Wars, Star Trek, and Dr. Who fan club memberships. Although, seriously, what's the deal with the Sky in Clarke County?
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
FWF Submission: Up the Creek
Up the Creek
She was in kindergarten in an all girl school. This was the seventies, and Katie loved everything about school except for getting up in the morning. Lately, the fun thing was to lean over and look under the partition into the next stall while you were in the restroom. That way, you didn't have to stop your conversation with your friend just because you had to go. It was also a fun and interesting way to meet new friends when both kindergarten classes were in the bathroom at the same time. There was an etiquette for initiating a conversation. You were supposed to stick your hand under the shared wall of the stall and ask "who's that?" The other girl would answer and you would look and say hey and life was good. If there was no answer, then you should look immediately, because this was still basically a public restroom and those could be tricky. Your friend could be in trouble and was depending on you to save her!
That day was like any other day. There was a break, she went to the bathroom with the rest of the class. She waited towards the end of the line. (She liked the ends, they were more special.) She entered her stall. She got to business. She looked down and saw shoes next to her. These were different shoes. She began protocol. Pointing, she asked "Who's that?", but there was no answer. She asked again, and again, no answer. Clearly, someone was in trouble. Katie was a very helpful girl and knew what she had to do. She looked under the stall "Who's in here?"
It was a woman. A woman she did not know. A woman with blond hair in a tight flip and a shocked expression. Katie sat back. She wanted to giggle and she wanted to throw up. She was very still and waited until she was sure that it was time for her mom to come get her. She was going to get in trouble with her teacher if she didn't leave the bathroom. She walked out and to the sinks. There was the woman.
"You! It was you!"
Katie ran. She ran and ran and ran and ran and ran. She ran all the way to her classroom and sat down quietly in her seat.
Someone came to the classroom and took her teacher out. When Mrs. May came back, she was not happy.
"Miss Wills has said that someone peeped on her while she was in the bathroom. Who did it?"
Peeped! Katie didn't peep! She looked, it was different. If Miss Wills was in trouble, Katie would have been a hero. What should she do? Katie decided. She was going to keep quiet. If she was discovered, then she would probably cry and that would be bad, so keeping quiet was a good idea.
The classroom clocked ticked. Mrs May said "we are going to wait until someone confesses and apologizes to Miss Wills."
There was no way Katie was apologizing; Miss Wills had ugly hair. The clock kept ticking. Katie thought that she may cry soon and be discovered.
Evie raised her hand. "Sarah and I looked under the wall." "Thank you Evie. Will you and Sarah come with me?"
Katie watched them go. Miss Wills would know that it wasn't Evie and Sarah. She did have ugly hair, but she had good eyes.
Mrs. May brought Evie and Sarah back. "Evie and Sarah have apologized. They are very brave. I expect that no one will look under the stall doors and walls again."
Katie had no idea what had happened. She was free. All she had to do was avoid Miss Wills.
In second grade, Katie met her new teacher, Miss Wills.
heidi
June 4, 2012
This is my first blog post in response to Kellie Elmore's Free Write Friday (FWF). For those of you who are unfamiliar with Free Write Friday, you can get more information here http://kellieelmore.com/free-write-friday/. I have tweeted some micropoems in response to a FWF prompt. This is the prompt for this story:
O.k., I know you have all heard that old saying, “…up shit creek without a paddle”, right? (Or maybe it’s just a southern thing, I don’t know.) Well, if you haven’t let me just break it down for ya. We have all been in a mess, a pickle, in a …tight spot, right? When times were hard and you couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, hence…up shit creek without a paddle. Often times we are able to look back on those situations and find humor, a lesson learned or just realize that it really wasn’t as bad as we thought…or maybe it was but you survived. Some great stories can almost always be found from these…ripples in life and for FWF, I’d like you to share them. Be poetic, be humorous, be inspirational…just don’t forget to be real, raw and most importantly, just write! You know what to do.
She was in kindergarten in an all girl school. This was the seventies, and Katie loved everything about school except for getting up in the morning. Lately, the fun thing was to lean over and look under the partition into the next stall while you were in the restroom. That way, you didn't have to stop your conversation with your friend just because you had to go. It was also a fun and interesting way to meet new friends when both kindergarten classes were in the bathroom at the same time. There was an etiquette for initiating a conversation. You were supposed to stick your hand under the shared wall of the stall and ask "who's that?" The other girl would answer and you would look and say hey and life was good. If there was no answer, then you should look immediately, because this was still basically a public restroom and those could be tricky. Your friend could be in trouble and was depending on you to save her!
That day was like any other day. There was a break, she went to the bathroom with the rest of the class. She waited towards the end of the line. (She liked the ends, they were more special.) She entered her stall. She got to business. She looked down and saw shoes next to her. These were different shoes. She began protocol. Pointing, she asked "Who's that?", but there was no answer. She asked again, and again, no answer. Clearly, someone was in trouble. Katie was a very helpful girl and knew what she had to do. She looked under the stall "Who's in here?"
It was a woman. A woman she did not know. A woman with blond hair in a tight flip and a shocked expression. Katie sat back. She wanted to giggle and she wanted to throw up. She was very still and waited until she was sure that it was time for her mom to come get her. She was going to get in trouble with her teacher if she didn't leave the bathroom. She walked out and to the sinks. There was the woman.
"You! It was you!"
Katie ran. She ran and ran and ran and ran and ran. She ran all the way to her classroom and sat down quietly in her seat.
Someone came to the classroom and took her teacher out. When Mrs. May came back, she was not happy.
"Miss Wills has said that someone peeped on her while she was in the bathroom. Who did it?"
Peeped! Katie didn't peep! She looked, it was different. If Miss Wills was in trouble, Katie would have been a hero. What should she do? Katie decided. She was going to keep quiet. If she was discovered, then she would probably cry and that would be bad, so keeping quiet was a good idea.
The classroom clocked ticked. Mrs May said "we are going to wait until someone confesses and apologizes to Miss Wills."
There was no way Katie was apologizing; Miss Wills had ugly hair. The clock kept ticking. Katie thought that she may cry soon and be discovered.
Evie raised her hand. "Sarah and I looked under the wall." "Thank you Evie. Will you and Sarah come with me?"
Katie watched them go. Miss Wills would know that it wasn't Evie and Sarah. She did have ugly hair, but she had good eyes.
Mrs. May brought Evie and Sarah back. "Evie and Sarah have apologized. They are very brave. I expect that no one will look under the stall doors and walls again."
Katie had no idea what had happened. She was free. All she had to do was avoid Miss Wills.
In second grade, Katie met her new teacher, Miss Wills.
heidi
June 4, 2012
This is my first blog post in response to Kellie Elmore's Free Write Friday (FWF). For those of you who are unfamiliar with Free Write Friday, you can get more information here http://kellieelmore.com/free-write-friday/. I have tweeted some micropoems in response to a FWF prompt. This is the prompt for this story:
O.k., I know you have all heard that old saying, “…up shit creek without a paddle”, right? (Or maybe it’s just a southern thing, I don’t know.) Well, if you haven’t let me just break it down for ya. We have all been in a mess, a pickle, in a …tight spot, right? When times were hard and you couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, hence…up shit creek without a paddle. Often times we are able to look back on those situations and find humor, a lesson learned or just realize that it really wasn’t as bad as we thought…or maybe it was but you survived. Some great stories can almost always be found from these…ripples in life and for FWF, I’d like you to share them. Be poetic, be humorous, be inspirational…just don’t forget to be real, raw and most importantly, just write! You know what to do.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Better
Better
Never satisfied.
Never good enough.
Strive for excellence-perfection,
there is always room for improvement.
You must always be better.
You can always do better.
The best is the only thing that is
acceptable.
-heidi
originally written 8/2000
I originally wrote this as part of an developmental profile of myself for a school project. It made me uncomfortable then and it makes me uncomfortable now. (maybe even more uncomfortable now) I am posting this today and linking it to dverse Open Link Night. I think if this poem teaches me nothing else, it does let me know that I should never volunteer to coach any of my kids' team sports. Thanks for visiting!
Never satisfied.
Never good enough.
Strive for excellence-perfection,
there is always room for improvement.
You must always be better.
You can always do better.
The best is the only thing that is
acceptable.
-heidi
originally written 8/2000
I originally wrote this as part of an developmental profile of myself for a school project. It made me uncomfortable then and it makes me uncomfortable now. (maybe even more uncomfortable now) I am posting this today and linking it to dverse Open Link Night. I think if this poem teaches me nothing else, it does let me know that I should never volunteer to coach any of my kids' team sports. Thanks for visiting!
Monday, June 4, 2012
dverse prompt: work
My Work
I guess my workday begins
at 6:00am.
A hard little body plops on me
with a
"Get up Mommy" or
"Hi sweetie" or
"Mommy, get up, I'm hungry"
Another warm, smaller, body has climbed
in beside me
sometime in the night.
"Okay baby, don't wake your brother."
or, if I'm honest,
"Please, sweetie, let Mommy sleep a few minutes more,
and please don't wake your brother."
Get up, feed them, clothe them, watch them, love them
keep them safe.
Watch them create chaos where I am trying to create order.
Wonder what have I gotten myself into.
Laugh at their silliness.
Worry about them, soothe their wounds, love them.
Lose my temper, yell, cry, worry that I have scarred them for life.
Love them.
Bathe them, put them to bed. Try to create some order, fall further behind.
Wonder what in the hell I have gotten myself into.
Feel inept.
Feel scared.
Love them.
Try to sleep, always trying to listen for them.
My workday started almost six years ago, and will never end.
My work is to love them.
heidi
June 4, 2012
This is my first try at a dversepoets prompt. (dversepoets.com) I have been tweeting micropoems on Twitter in my absence from here (follow me @bigrthanlasagna) and discovered them there. However, I missed the deadline, of course, so I can't submit it to dverse. In a pure nod to Pollyanna, I am glad for the idea. Hope you like it and I hope that this helps get me back here. I miss my big lasagna!
I guess my workday begins
at 6:00am.
A hard little body plops on me
with a
"Get up Mommy" or
"Hi sweetie" or
"Mommy, get up, I'm hungry"
Another warm, smaller, body has climbed
in beside me
sometime in the night.
"Okay baby, don't wake your brother."
or, if I'm honest,
"Please, sweetie, let Mommy sleep a few minutes more,
and please don't wake your brother."
Get up, feed them, clothe them, watch them, love them
keep them safe.
Watch them create chaos where I am trying to create order.
Wonder what have I gotten myself into.
Laugh at their silliness.
Worry about them, soothe their wounds, love them.
Lose my temper, yell, cry, worry that I have scarred them for life.
Love them.
Bathe them, put them to bed. Try to create some order, fall further behind.
Wonder what in the hell I have gotten myself into.
Feel inept.
Feel scared.
Love them.
Try to sleep, always trying to listen for them.
My workday started almost six years ago, and will never end.
My work is to love them.
heidi
June 4, 2012
This is my first try at a dversepoets prompt. (dversepoets.com) I have been tweeting micropoems on Twitter in my absence from here (follow me @bigrthanlasagna) and discovered them there. However, I missed the deadline, of course, so I can't submit it to dverse. In a pure nod to Pollyanna, I am glad for the idea. Hope you like it and I hope that this helps get me back here. I miss my big lasagna!
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