Desire

I was a late bloomer. It's not hard to deal with the peer pressure of whether or not to have sex if no one wants to have sex with you. Even if someone wanted to have sex with me, I was raised a Roman Catholic and wanted to wait for marriage. Plus, I didn't want to be known as a slut. I went to a small high school. Everyone knew each other's business. At my 20th high school reunion my boyfriend took a poll. When he asked people what I was like in high school the number one response was, "She was real smart."

My Favorite Things

The smell of a flower

Camomile tea

A smile from my lover

The shade of a tree

The crash of blue crystal water

against rocks on an unknown beach

The echo of my mother's laughter

on the phone, when out of reach

A dragonfly in flight

The dance of a bee

A warm hand in mine

A midnight treat

The taste

of homemade food

secret ingredient

love love love

The touch

of silky smooth fur

on my loving cat

rub rub rub

The beat of a drum

A sincere embrace

Grass on bare feet

Your strong sweet face

At one point I realized that most of the poems I liked best that were written by me were not so upbeat. I wondered what happy topic I could write a poem about. Everything came out corny so I decided to make a list (an homage to The Sound of Music).

I checked the date I wrote this poem. I was certain the references were things I shared with my boyfriend who I will be celebrating a 5th anniversary with (he's a drummer who gives great hugs, loves late night snacks, and knows of a secluded beach). Instead, this poem was written a couple of years before I met him when I was single. According to my journal, the "strong sweet face" belonged to someone I hoped I would meet who would embody the characteristics most important to me. Someone with strength of mind and body and a sweetness that guided his heart and actions. Someone who would stand up to me using logic and humor. Someone I didn't think existed - until 5 years ago.

Dreams Can Come True

frantic dream

wanting

we lick bare skin

our sweat smooth

shining

Luscious heaving breast

moan pant shake scream

You me fall

say love

stare in beauty

Together

say soar

like a sea

under spring sun

Blood like music

red symphony

swimming through you

and me

Our New Cat

My houseguest has become a part of my family! She's not the scrawny cat who came to visit. She is a strong, fluffy, playful cat! New pictures coming soon ...

Phil G.

When I started reading my poetry in front of other people I felt exposed, vulnerable, and free. The thoughts and feelings that I had shared only with myself in an indescribable state of creativity were being spoken out loud. It was intimidating yet liberating.

My first reading was in Sacramento. I was excited and terrified. The owner of a clothing shop in downtown encouraged unknown poets to come by and read their work. Towards the front door a man with a head full of grey hair was standing. His smile was so kind that I almost convinced myself he was some kind of angel that only I could see. I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and began. It felt great! After each poem I would look up and search for his eyes. Each time I'd see that kind smile and my confidence would rev up for the next poem.

When I was done reading, my friends and family were quick to surround me and congratulate me. The man with the grey hair approached me and handed me a piece of paper, told me he liked my poems and silently walked away.

I looked at the green piece of paper that had been folded in half. He had written something...

Gina En La Tarde

The third time

Leaving her alma

Open to the world

words like espantos

That no person

Has Seen

As she lets

Them fly the air

For a short time

Of trust

11/29/92

He signed it but I didn't recognize his name. It wasn't until years later that I saw his name again and learned who he was. He had passed away, and I'm convinced, was finally given a pair of wings.

The First Time

I don't remember what it was like to not be able to read. Before starting kindergarten, one of my favorite things to do was to cuddle up next to my mother as she read to me. A book junkie herself, my mother would take us to the library when they hosted events for children. When I started kindergarten I was bored. My boredom stopped the day my teacher asked the class to write a poem about our favorite color. I knew what a poem was but I had no idea how I was going to pick one color to write about. I liked all colors! The classroom was buzzing with the sounds of ideas, questions, and grown up voices giving suggestions and answers. I looked across the room and the buzzing faded away. For the first time I had locked eyes with a boy who made me forget about everything except the blue in his eyes. We stared at each other the way little kids do - shameless, curious, and innocent. I didn't have the knowledge or words to know that I had just realized my first crush. I knew my new favorite color was blue and I wrote this poem.

BLUE is the color of the sky that spreads over the earth

BLUE is the color of jeans and all those wonderful jellybeans

BLUE is the color of water we need for our thirst

BLUE is the color of eyes that stare first