Categories
Poetry

A Mother’s Love

I remember when I was a child,
being envious of my friends,
who would run home and tell Mom
about their day;
slamming the screen door
and the noise interrupting
the spring sound of awak’ning.
Standing in a warm kitchen,
apple pie baking and she,
with a whiff of flour on her cheek,
radiant with smile
as she listened to the story of the home run
that almost was.
Seeing me standing there on the breadth,
she flashed that smile of understanding,
and scolded us both for running so hard in the heat.
Then she sat us down
at a white pine tree kitchen table
to a treat of ice-cold milk and cake.
She, silently singing to herself,
today’s a treat to tomorrow’s desserts.
I knew she understood how I felt;
a small child so alone,
and she, another one’s mom,
with enough love left over
to treat me as her own.
Thanks Mom.

I remember often my foster home,
I being fortunate in my time.
Time sometimes spent searching
for another one’s love – you see,
I don’t have those childhood memories of a mother,
Mine left for the other side of the tree.
I only remember her
as seen in other kids’ eyes,
and I realize –
that mothers the world over,
are really all the same.
they love all children,
somehow never forgetting a child’s name, so –
thank you Mom,
every Mom,
everywhere.

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

My Prayer

Lord, please don’t let me love again
I’ve done it much too often;
each time I end up with a pain
that words can never soften.
The last time really shattered me;
I’m not quite recovered yet.
Perhaps a hundred years or two
will help me to forget.
So please dear Lord because so much
has happened to me before,
don’t let me fall in love again.


Well… maybe just once more.

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

Hot & Hazy

Every afternoon, I sit and sweat
and my breathing becomes heavy
My vision is misty
and I tell myself
So this is what hell feels like
I’m not too old
Just Old enough to remember
Never NEEDING
air conditioning
when It was only for the rich
and privileged and now
it’s only for those
who want to live
and breathe
We die in winter without heat
We die in summer without cooling
The A/C even died in heaven
the clouds slowly disappeared
Everything around is slowly dying
Burning up
And we need cooling to live
It sucks being this old
‘Cause I’m old enough to remember.

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

It’s Hard

It’s lonely when I’m alone
and it’s hard to be alone;
it makes me crazy
and I start spinning
out of control.
It’s hard.
But it’s hard to not be alone,
to be with somebody;
it makes me crazy
and I start spinning
out of control.
It’s hard.
So if you ask me
is it you or me,
it’s probably not you;
I think it’s me.
It’s hard to be me.

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

Unsent Email

Every time you hurt me with your words,
I wrote an email
telling you
how your words made me feel
but I never sent it.
Every time you put me down,
mocked me, belittled me,
or insulted me,
I wrote an email
telling you
what an asshole you are
but I never sent it.

Every time you pushed me away,
I wrote an email
pointing out
why you’re alone
and lonely,
but I never sent it.
Today
I looked
at my saved but unsent emails.
Today
I saw
a pattern of behaviour
that I could not accept,
because I am worth more,
much more
than that.
Today
I deleted
those unsent emails.

Today I realized
you aren’t worth it.
Today I finally understood

you never were. 

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

This Is Not Life

They asked if I was depressed
and I told them the truth;
of course I am –
how could I not be.
Humans are social creatures
and I am a human,
therefore I am a social creature,
and now I’m forced to live my life
In front of these monitors.
I can only see other people and places;
I cannot touch,
I cannot feel,
I cannot taste
or smell.
This is not living.
A robot in my chair
would be more productive –
and it would never get depressed.
Of course I am depressed I said;
how can I be otherwise?

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

The Truth Will Set Me Free

The truth will set me free, they said
and then they told me a bunch of lies.
They said I wasn’t pretty enough,
thin enough,
old enough,
or smart enough;
educated enough,
or rich enough.
I wasn’t connected enough
or young enough,
that I’d never amount to anything,
that I’d gone as far as I could go
for far too long.
And I believed them.
But then I looked in the mirror
and saw all my strengths,
my insights,
and wisdom.
I saw my determination
and perseverance,
my dedication
and compassion,
and I realized they were right;
the truth had set me free.

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

My Glasses

When I put on my glasses today
I could barely see through the lenses;
So speckled were they with the stains
Of last night’s tears.
I wish I didn’t cry so much;
But there’s just so much to cry about.
I wish the world would stop giving me
So many things to cry about.
I wish everyone could see the world
As clearly as I can
After I clean the stains
Off my glasses.

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

Growing Pains

A poet deaf, a poet blind,

Just writing poetry of the mind.

It really doesn’t mean a thing;

A poem to write, a song to sing.

A woman strong, a woman tall;

A woman tow’ring over all.

She doesn’t know now what to say;

She just grows stronger every day.

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This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
Categories
Poetry

The Dishes

I’m sitting and thinking about doing the dishes.
I don’t need to do them all at once;
I can do a few and then take a break.
The water will probably need changing anyway.
That new dish soap looks more attractive, but it’s not as good
And I need to use much more.
In the time I’ve been thinking about this,
I could have started the dishes.
I really should get the dishwasher fixed;
I’ll try to remember to call on Monday.
At least I sent a message to the guy who did my floors,
So he can quote on my stairs.
I hope he’s been okay through all of this;
It’s hard when you’re starting your own business,
Being self-employed during a pandemic,
With a wife and kids to help support.
This situation has hurt so many.
We need to figure out a better way
To deal with these situations in future,
Because it’s going to happen more often –
So the experts say
And it does look that way,
With SARS and H1N1
And now this COVID-19.
Damn, I could have finished the dishes.

Creative Commons License
This poem by Suzette Seveny is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.