Category Archives: Memories

That’s not me #poem #poetry

My sister and i looking for our brothers in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Photo taken by Ed Esposito

My sister and i looking for our brothers in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Photo by Ed Esposito

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. But that’s not me. I was a tomboy, picking worms from the earth and collecting ants for my plexiglass farm, complete with kelly-green John Deere tractor. The holes in the “farm” were too big and even the large black ants would stick their antennae out, feeling around for i don’t know what, before squishing their bulky bodies through the opening, finding freedom on the porch, the gateway to the world. Certainly, with this manufacturing flaw, the ant farm was not permitted in the house.

 

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. But that’s not me. I am a pyromaniac, who loves to make bonfires and grill out. I like the feel of the wood, the meticulous formation of newspaper and kindling. The precarious tent of branches raised up and burned down. I like to monitor the embers, adding more sticks. I like the dance of the fire, the feel of the heat, the snapping sounds of sap escaping wood. I like the sparks that jump from the flame and dissolve in the night sky, the moths that approach the light but run from the heat, the burnt remains that float heavenward, disappearing into the dark of the night.

 

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. But that’s not me. I am a sports fanatic. I am a die-hard fan. I scream at the refs and yell at the players. I scare the dog as I holler “Touchdown!” The kids tiptoe past the television screen only during commercial breaks for fear of the wrath of Momma if she misses a play. They know it’s not real anger, but the joke still runs its course each football season.

 

Once upon a time, there lived a princess. But that’s not me. I am t-shirt, shorts, and slip-on tennies. I am hair-pulled back ponytail. I am a no-make-up, no-jewelry kinda girl. I am a barefoot-in-the-yard, dancing-in-the-rain, off-key singer. I am a child of God. Jesus is my man. I read my Bible nightly. I cuss. I want a tattoo. I like it when the sun sets and lights my room on fire.

LLH

6/19/14

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Arms #poetry #poem

I held you once.
I don’t remember.
Fuzzy dreams
Of sand and Chi-Chi’s
Mix with memories
Of me in your arms.
You show me photos
Of lost memories
And of a time
So long ago.
I have hurts
And you have walls.
We lived our lives apart.
Now tentatively,
You and I
Return to each others’
Arms.

 

LLH
06-01-14
3ish pm

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Filed under Feelings, Love, Memories

I just want to know you #poetry

 

Photo from Sophie Willocq

Photo from Sophie Willocq

I just

 want to know you

though I

 can’t feel your skin.

 

Don’t think

 it’s something deeper.

Don’t back

 away from me.

 

I wonder now

why i left.

I wonder why

it did not work.

 

But time

 for me is warped.

And i

 have no mem’ry

Except

 for your kindness

And your

 pure love for me.

 

It all

 could’ve been different.

I just

.  want to know you.

 

 

LLH

5/14/14

11:29 PM

 

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Wish Flowers and Mom: About my New Blog Header

Wish Flower

Nature’s Wishes

for Mom

We were walking through the yard
Just Mom, sis, and me
Returning home from a visit
With a neighbor down the street.

I’m sure I saw the dandelion
About the same time as Mom.
It was plump and white with furry seeds
Just ready to take flight.

I didn’t think a thing about it
As my foot came crashing down
Right about the exact moment
That Mom began to speak.

“Look,” she said with such excitement
“It’s a dandelion!”
But my sneaker had crushed it down.
“Now you can’t wish upon it.”

I’ve grown since then; and Mom’s aged, too.
The cancer’s been rough on her.
But I’ve learned a lesson I’ll never forget
About childlike excitement and nature’s wishes.

Ev’ry time I see a dandelion
Its seeds all plump and white,
I close my eyes and make a wish
Sending each seed of hope in flight.

I don’t have the exact date that I wrote this poem at my fingertips, but it was sometime around 1998. I always wish for Mom each time I blow on a wish flower. And every time I see one, I make that wish for Mom.

Since this poem was written, my mother went on to heaven, where I’m sure she blows wish flowers for me.

And I realize that many people don’t click links in blogs, but I ask that you click this one, which will take you to the rest of the story of Wish Flowers and my mother. I promise it’s worth your time. It makes tears fall each time I read it, and caused my editor to cry as well. But it’s the truth.

I miss you, Mom.

P.S. Be sure to visit my new blog and let me know what you think of my header!

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Filed under Family, Feelings, Me, Memories, Mom, Nature

Seize It: A #30in30 Poem

Seize the day poem

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

People that you knew

a long time in the past,

they fade away so casually.

You knew it wouldn’t last.

 

All those memories you made

are tucked away and filed.

All those games that were so fun –

spinning, climbing, being wild –

 

will have to wait another day,

a week, a month, a year.

For now you have to clean the tub,

fold the laundry, your deadline’s near.

 

Being grown-up ain’t that fun.

The day is hard; get up and run.

The time, it passes like draining water.

Wash the dishes, hug your daughter.

 

Take a breath.

Watch the stars.

Kiss your lover.

This day is ours.

 

4/7/12

#30in30

#4

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My Apple Tree

In my backyard
grows an apple tree.
It’s like God planted
it there for me.

Its curvy branches
are perfect for sittin’.
Its rotten apples,
the best for hittin’.

The apples it grows
can fill a whole cart.
They’re big ‘n juicy;
they’re green and tart.

I take a bite
and feed it to Shasta.
I eat slower
and she eats faster.

I help my Dad
each and ev’ry spring
to prune that tree
and prepare everything

so in cooler weather
my apple tree
will have more apples
for Shasta and me.

Me and Shasta

Me and Shasta

LLH
5/29 – 5/31/2010

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Filed under Children's Poetry, Family, Memories

Back In Time

Walking down the driveway

Feeling the rocks on my bare feet

Brings a timeless feeling

That I just can’t shake.


I can hear the splash of the pool

And the boys on their bikes

Riding through mud in the woods.

And the dinner bell calling me home.


But all of that is long gone

Replaced with grown-up tasks.

Kids to play with, teach, and feed.

A book to edit lies on my desk.

The laundry hasn’t been folded

In at least four loads.


But just for this moment in time

I am back to the days

Of wearing my swimsuit all day long

Of peeling potatoes

And setting the table

And seeing Mom at home.



By Laurie Esposito Harley

July 24, 2006

3:12 pm

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Filed under Family, Memories, Mom