Showing posts with label Life Events. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life Events. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

When You're Young You Don't Care About Appearances

dandelions are weeds they say
but to me they
are summer
and a fluffy snowflake
mixed-breed mutt who made a beeline for me
when i lay out on the kentucky bluegrass
of home
needing love

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

I'm pledging to be a little less grown up today--and to link up with those amazing poets at the dVerse Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight #90!

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Westport Beach

cherry blossoms and butterflies
get stuck in my throat
today, and every time,
a just right spring blows
the salt wind and dark wave
against my memory
and across my bare toes
to unbury thoughts of pebbles and sand
and running and laughing
and six year old you

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For Andrew.  On a day like today.

Thursday, February 14, 2013

We Said

you said,
no one ever believed in you quite like me

you said,
you found the seashell as you ran on the beach

and kept it in your pocket
to give it to me

you said,
i made you want to lay down

on the tracks of a speeding locomotive
and beg for my love

i said,

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For Ian.  I was made to believe in you…15 years.  I still have the shell.

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Postcard 77

i had just turned six when
Elvis died
my mom with her long, dark hair
and my aunt, blonde and long too—

sat out on the steps
with their friends
and their short shorts, sobbing;
Tab and real Pepsi
in the bottle
Virginia Slims between the index
and middle

i watched,
barefoot in the warm shade;
topaz eyes full and wide,
little legs tan; and tendril-bleached,
umber hair, wild—

even i knew i wouldn’t  forget
where i was that day
when i heard
‘Are You Lonesome Tonight’
in the background
and cried too

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

Sliding in to link up with the amazing poets at dVerse Poets Pub for OpenLinkNight.

revised 2.6.13

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Red-winged Blackbird's Funeral

Red-winged Blackbird, Wikimedia Commons

The sky played a trick,
impeding my flight—
dealing my doom.

The worm did not cry,
escaping to the depths
of a joyous homecoming.

Faces in the sky
of my sunset
held their breaths for me,

but brains
do not re-enter skulls;
and trash bags become funerary.

At least
I do not die alone
and without mourners.

Copyright © 2013 Jennifer Wagner

For Peggy’s prompt at Poetry Jam where the prompt is to write from the perspective of an animal.  This incident happened a couple of weeks ago.  A red-winged blackbird flew into our picture window so forcefully it could not recover.  The worm in its beak fell out and crawled away.  The bird, though so fatally wounded, struggled heartily. My boys were mostly fascinated by the scene and the science of it all.  But as the only female in a household of boys and men, it tore my heart a bit. 

Monday, January 14, 2013

The Beginning of a Poem

your life
as a song to me
your tender heart

and when
your smile
was all i had
to get out
of bed

it was enough

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Wagner

for Andrew

dVerse OpenLinkNight 

Saturday, January 12, 2013

Jukebox (Boombox), Baby

Joan Jett on cassette
softball summers
of field-dirt-crusted scabs
on my knees
and thighs
sliding into second
my dad said I never did it quite right
because there should be more on my thighs
if I were

a cherry Tootsie Roll Pop
with a ‘tude
sneaking gin and Jack Daniels
and smokes
dreaming of VW Super Beetles with glitter in the paint
or a ‘64 convertible Mustang, cherry red too, of course—
and The Outsiders

in audible
relief, mom and dad,
I didn’t turn out wielding
a six-string and blowing sugar pops
but still I do
Love Rock ‘n Roll

Copyright 2013 Jennifer Wagner

At dVerse Poets Pub master prompter and poet Stuart McPherson has us writing about 'Growing Up'

Friday, January 11, 2013



by Andrew Romero

Haste the day the harbinger comes
With songs of loyalty and triumph
The sounds of life exude pain
The silence of existence is eternal

Death saddles his horse
At the living’s lamentation
He rides unto the cradle
Listening for Ataturk

Upon release he kneels
In respect for the deceased
At this he takes them within his bosom
Thrashing they vie for life

His icy embrace calms their tenacious fire
The horseman rides on
To father time, with emptied hourglass
Onwards he rides unto oblivion

Copyright 2012 Andrew Romero 

My son Andrew recently turned 18 and will graduate from high school this year.  Sigh...expect to see some nostalgic mama writes from me.  He writes poetry and wrote this piece a few months ago.  Also, he predicted, on the day of the Super Bowl last year, that the Seahawks would play in the Super Bowl this year.  Poet and possibly prophet?  Proud mama, no doubt.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012


26 reasons
to remember why
He came

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

It’s Christmas, but I find it difficult to feel celebratory.  I know most are probably feeling the same way with hearts heavy and broken from last week’s devastation.  And yet I am reminded of why He came.  He came not because He wanted us to decorate trees and drink egg nog and rack up credit card debt giving gifts.  He came because we are in darkness, and He is the Light of the world.  John 8:12  Come, let us behold Him.  Perhaps we have never needed to more.


Saturday, December 15, 2012

Frozen Yesterday

I tied his little-kid size 12 gray converse shoes
while he crunched almonds
and bragged between swallows
about beating me at Go Fish.
I hid my grin
and tried to look disappointed
for losing.

Zipping up his green hoodie
we left
for afternoon Kindergarten
at 11:55.
He was concerned
that his friend wouldn’t be at school—
he’d made a paper Christmas tree
and put it into an envelope,
scotch-taped a blue candy cane to the outside
for a little present.

Walking him to the line,
I said “have a great day, buddy,”
then waved and watched as he walked through the doors,
backpack almost as big as he is, bouncing.

I thought of how many parents did this today,
leaving their hearts
in a five year old body
on cold tile floors.

And I couldn’t leave the parking lot.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner 

Dear God, dear God…more tears than words for all who are gripped in this horrific tragedy in Newtown, CT.
Got the jump on this prompt with Brian’s post yesterday.  Linking up with the amazing poets at dVerse Poetics.  I'll also be linking to The Poetry Pantry.

When words are few, perhaps there is a song.

Monday, November 19, 2012

Interview at Poets United

I've had the honor of being interviewed by the talented Sherry of Poets United for the Life of a Poet Series.  If you would like to read it, go here:  Life of a Poet - Jennifer Wagner.  Thanks Sherry, I was truly surprised and honored to be featured!

Thursday, November 15, 2012


is a notion
of half-closed lids
in yellow flicks
of candlelight
against your bluegreen eyes
despite or because of
that lonely space between us
you pull me into
reaching for that tender
part you save for me
until i believe
i am the jewel
upon your hand
you always say i am
and melt like gold
in your palms

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Wild Peaches and the River

 She tucked me into bed,
wrapped me in
an age-worn quilt
and I slept like the baby I nearly was.

When I woke,
I pulled the quilt around me
and tiptoed across the old wood floors
covered with braided rugs.

Rubbing sleep from my eyes,
I entered the kitchen
and watched her sitting at the farm table,
with a cup of steaming coffee, slicing a wild peach.

Her hands were still strong then;
and even now I never see a peach,
smell one, taste one,
without thinking of her.

She laughed, her mellow way, eyes crinkling,
when I said how much I liked the sweetness
but not the fuzzy skin which poked
like a prickly moustache against my mouth.

Overheard her saying, later
that she ‘got tickled’
when I’d said the pigs rooting in the pen
looked like they had ribbons in their tails.

When I’d trailed her
to the rabbit cages
and saw a mama rabbit
eat her own baby

she didn’t shield me
from the horror of it,
but let me ask the hard questions
and answered them, best she knew.

‘Fascinating’ is what I’d called it,
when asked about it back home.
And she was, too,
though I never said it.

Except at the cemetery overlooking the river
when I wished her back
to see me enjoy the sweetness in my life,
to bring lightness when it poked;

and because the questions
have only gotten harder.
But mostly, to hear her ‘tickled’ laughter
one more time.

Copyright 2012 Jennifer Wagner

For Grandma.  Rest in peace, we so often rested in yours.