Every Time
Every time I see you
I want to touch you.
Every time I hear from you
I imagine you're next to me.
Every time I kiss you
I need to hold you.
Every time you hold me
I want to kiss you.
Every time you smile
I grow happy.
Every time you are stubborn
I want to prove you wrong,
just to have an excuse
to see you sad,
That way I can kiss you
and see if I can make you happy.
Alex
HAPPY EASTER MY DEAR FRIENDS
I hate what you see in my eyes
I know you only know because you love me
Please, when I come around
I mean me
not the me with barren, hungry blood
not the angry, resentful me
I hate that you see it in my eyes
before I know myself
I hate that you learned to notice
please when I come around
forgive me.
If someone can get grouchy
missing a meal
what happens when the brain is starving?
I know, because I've felt it
You know, because you've seen it
Please forgive me
I hate what you see in my eyes
I thought about buying blue candles
In symbolic support for the dead
But I would hope never to light one
That they'd melt in a drawer instead.
When my blood sugar is not Dr. Bernstein good, I can't sleep. I amuse myself by staring at the ceiling and writing a haiku. This one comes back to me time and again:
Bedtime Haiku
My mind is a-swirl,
thoughts like darting dragonflies.
Insects, go to sleep!
Wish you Merry Christmas and Happy New Year
Calling all members of Poetry Club! April is National Poetry Month, and we'd like to highlight some new "No Sugar Added" style poems on this page
http://www.tudiabetes.org/profile/NoSugarAddedPoetry
Ghosts of Christmas past I: Grand Aunt Hazel
She had a drawer
A magic drawer
We could choose
One gift on Christmas Eve
I have a rattan trunk
It collects treasures all year
Like her drawer
And I send them off to
Far-flung places
For gifts of Christmas Present
Christmas Eve at her cozy home
Leontyne Price singing Ave Maria
Cousin Johnny concocting weird cocktails
Baby Lisa sitting in her Grampa's lap
Tasting rutabagas, mashed, for the first time
And liking them
Only her and my dadâŚ..
And there was a gorgeous midnight service
Candles and folks from the
Minnesota orchestra
Carols
Joy and tears
Home and safe
Dad's Grasshoppers
Because they are green
Of CourseâŚâŚ
Blessed night to all
From a Presbyterian AtheistâŚ..
Here is a poem I wrote this year for the seventh grade poetry share at my school. For those of you who are curious, it is a pantoum. Enjoy!!!
Everything changed that day
The day that diabetes came into my life
I was terrified but calm
There wasnât a way out
The day that diabetes came into my life
I was taught to stick needles into my body
There wasnât a way out
And there still isnât
I was taught to stick needles into my body
Itâs old hat for me now
Because there still isnât a way out
I donât just survive; I thrive
Itâs old hat for me now
I have made my prison a home
I donât just survive; I thrive
I am living proof of âwhat doesnât kill you makes you strongerâ
I have made my prison a home
It is not a prison now
I am living proof of âwhat doesnât kill you makes you strongerâ
Diabetes has not defeated me
It is not a prison now
I have accepted it and I can control it
Diabetes has not defeated me
And it never will
I have accepted it and I can control it
Diabetes does not define me
And it never will
Everything changed that day
Made in Indonesia
SOFT clouds of steam rise up like so much primordial mist.
Soft white fields of blue Cornflowers rise in the heat of Electricity vibrating.
Who created this majestic work of art that lies spread before me in all its pristine glory?
Golden sun rising in the mist.
Blue on white floating , swirling its essence.
In my heart of hearts, souls march through the rising mist like soldiers lining up for battle.
In the rising mist I will challenge the course of action whose vibrations make you a slave to me.
YOU rise in the mist of dawn with aching countenance.
Creating beautiful details that delight my eyes, like the Cornflowers that bend their graceful heads so slowly.in the grey mist of early dawn
.
You give your art and life to stitch or sew for my delight.
With ethical dignity you rise in the mist to create lines in the soft pale cloth with which you color my existence.
Ellen Ng, May 28, 2014, While Ironing.
Thanks for the lovely poem and photo, Ellen. I'm always looking for an inspiration, a trigger for a poem. I would never have thought of ironing!
The Colors of Summer
The sun is white light cascading in amongst the bright clouds.
The sky is a soft pale blue.
The wind softly caresses my very being.
Water gently passes from the very pores of my skin, translucent wetness that feels like mist rising in the bright hot heat.
The soft greens and blues and yellow of the Summer Solstice
And the mystical white heat of the lovely daysâŚ
Summer stretches its lenthly tentacles out before me in the grey soft lines of the summerâs rain.
I swim and I taste the mint green of gentle herbs that grow in my Secret Garden.
How thankful can the human being become?
In the white heat of a soft summer breeze.
I am a witness of the seasons as they proceed through the time of my precious life.
Diabetes means nothing when the sun rises on another summerâs morning.
E. Ng
(for Trudy)
Ellen, I enjoyed your poem, The Colors of Summer, not only for it's beauty but the meaning it conveys. Thanks so much for thinking of me when you wrote it!
Oh my. Such a beautiful and evocative invocation for summer. Interestingly---I have had Beloved Trudy in my mind on more than one occasion when I was inspired to write. That is part of your essence, Trudy. Thanks to you both. Much needed tonight...xx000
Judith, how can I thank you enough. It is true that poetry is part of me, thanks to my mom and grandpa's "poetry gene"!
Hey i'm really glad i joined this group i just love poetry
Thank you God for giving us dogs.
They bring love and kindness into our world.
When things go wrong, my dog seems like simplicity.
He makes everything easier.
Where does he get all his energy?
Keeping me active long after I want to sit down.
I thank you God for Ammi.
I thank you for all the dogs that I have had.
I know they are all in heaven, waiting for me.
Ellen, thanks for such a meaningful poem. I can't imagine my life without dogs.
Lovely, indeed, Ellen. I have photos of my Saints all over the house. Even though I have cats now, I'm with Trudy---I interact daily with several neighborhood dogs and love how excited they get when they see me coming---even if it's a bad day, they make me smile and laugh outright at their boundless enthusiasm for being on this earth.....
