I am sharing today’s poem with Real Toads for Wordy Monday with Wild Woman.

Some things don’t turn out
the way they are planned–
the loss of a first born son.
I was supposed to be Junior,
the coveted son;
didn’t have the right chromosomes–
disappointment from the start.
Not the prized rainbow baby
my older sister was,
living her only requirement.
Me–the one they got stuck with.


Family Picnics

Today’s challenge for d’Verse Poets is to write a haibun about a picnic. I’m also sharing with Real Toads.

When my son was born, I felt like I was cheating him.  As a single mom, he only had half a family, and I set out to make sure it was at least a complete one.  Our family vacations were usually three generations–my mom, my son and me–traveling to discover more of our family.  We visited libraries and museums and cemeteries to research our family history.  The cemeteries were always the best.  My son would pretend a square squat stone was a piano and practice his fingerings.  He would take out his toy tractor and drive it, farming between the endless rows of headstones.  He could run and laugh with family rather than be shushed like at the libraries.  Then we would picnic with our deceased relatives.

a graveside sandwich
nourishing soul and spirit
connect to the past

I didn’t have an old picture with my son in it (at least not on my computer), so this is a selfie with my sister when we picnicked with my great-great grandparents last summer.



Today at Real Toads, the micro-poetry challenge from Kerry is to write a poem inspired by the Instagram “inktober” challenge of the day, which is “breakable”. She’s also challenged us to go back to the old school method of writing on paper.  That part was easy because I always start on paper.  I did however try to create a worthy paper version to be shared instead of my scribbles and arrows that make it impossible to read.

the unbreakable bond
of mother and son
tattered and shattered
left lying upon the floor–
so much unwanted detritus
just to be swept away

no possible way to repair
what cannot be broken,
shocking and rocking
my world’s stability–
relationship’s stinking corpse
an albatross to bear