Category: My Poems

Literally, My Poems will be the portal to individual poems I wrote, 1966-present.

Legacy

All we want is for you to be happy, so
            go to school
            get a job
            earn a living
            be the best at everything.
            Always look good,
            never cry,
            be successful,
            earn lots of money.
            Be bright,
            be witty,
            make us proud,
            do as we say.
 
Just be happy, that’s all we want for you, so
            don’t be moody,
            don’t be angry,
            don’t be selfish,
            don’t fail.
            Don’t ever make waves,
            don’t be sad,
            don’t feel that way,
            do as we say.
 
After all, we want you to be happy.

By Marilyn Paluszak

For every parent of a teenager … this is what your child is hearing from you. As if the pressure to measure up to your Great Expectations are not sufficient. Your child’s happiness should not be measured by your qualifiers.

2020-10-13

Binary Man

It has simplified my life and calmed my mind to live with a binary man. So much more peaceful.



Binary Man
 
Binary man
sees naught
but ones
and zeros
which really
ought to be
enough,
he thinks.
 
No if/then
charts for this
man of
either or,
in or out.
Bring in and
take out
are one
in the same.
 
Life is
simple and
free of burdens
of chaotic
numbers and
choices too
numerous
to count.
 
Eat in she says
and being
binary and
not contrary
he replies,
bring in or
eat what’s here?

-By Marilyn Paluszak

Binary-joke-there-are-only-10-kinds-of-people-in-the-world-those-who-understand-binary-and-those-who-dont.

2020-10-06

Pinky Girl

Pinky Girl

It’s a tepid color really. 
Surely not an emotional banner
to wave about one’s head;
capable of warding off chills and evil people.
 
How can pink be a true reflection of the Girl?
For her, pink seems to be too pale a color;
incapable of reflecting the ruby within her soul,
the passionate pomegranate ready to burst.
 
Pink is but a ghost of the blush that betrays her moods.
Alone, pink barely seems to do her justice. Except it is a pleasing choice 
for a floppy hat or mittened scarf.
 
Girl thinks in more robust colors that bolster her thoughts.
She is, after all, in the pink of perfection, is she not?
Of late she often takes on a rosy disposition;
has even cast off her tinted glasses.
 
Although she does think in jagged edges, all ins and outs,
about every situation as she cuts through life.
Maybe someday she’ll sail a pinque,
to Poland and let them call her Pinkie.

by Marilyn Paluszak

photo-pink-hat — Pink was a fly magnet in Southern Australia along the Great Ocean Highway.

Paluszak in Polish is derived from “mały palec” – little finger. I extrapolated that to mean pinky or pinkie. Is that poetic license?

2020-09-29

Rescue me

See link below for the Fontella Bass, 1965 original song that so often runs through my head.

Rescue me

Quiet loneliness
sits ’round the corner
. . . ever lurking in the Dark.
 
Oh, Silence,
sometimes healing,
sometimes scary.
Are you friend or foe
tonight?
 
Shattered.
Broken.
 
Silence burst
by jagged noise.
A calling
from another world.
 
Lover, is that you?
Are you there?
 
Yes!  Friend tonight.
You’re the blessed ringing
in my ear.

By Marilyn Paluszak

Reprinted from a poem first drafted in 1986 and revised in 2011 … I cannot resist tweaking.

2020-09-22

A Reading, Rewarded

From a poem originally penned at the Florida Writers Association’s 2011 Awards Dinner as I watched a new author read from her first book.

A Reading, Rewarded

Words whipped left and right
spoken aloud to still the fright
they might waft away before the
book could be deemed profound.
 
It had been such a lengthy fight
to reach this exalted height
and gather strength and
stand there, jeweled and gowned.
 
Baring soul just to recite
all the words of love and light
that had erupted like
a spring too tightly wound.
 
Finally, pats on back that night
announced the true delight
echoed by this newborn fan
that another laureate was crowned.

By Marilyn Paluszak

Florida Writers Association

2020-09-22

No Poetry This Tuesday ;<)

I’ve been working on another website design for someone and simply got all off schedule. Finished Sunday’s RTW post on Sunday and realized just now it is Tuesday and I’ve not selected a poem yet.

This is my life. Sometimes I’m ahead of the game and sometimes I’m not.

2020-09-08

Finding Light

Recurring thoughts and dreams
revolve around a common theme
            about a light within
            a throbbing goodness
            ready to burst forth.
 
Optimism wins each battle
despite a cynic’s cooling heart
            as white knights
            on silver steeds
            wage war within.
 
Reflections of a childhood
filled with Brothers Grimm
            where evil lurks
            but cannot conquer
            as goodness triumphs.
 
Tutored by a loving mother
who believed in simple things
            like golden rules
            random acts of kindness
            and good deeds.
 
Not surprising to find the seed
For all the light and hope within
            that erupts as words
            on a blank screen
            not so random as they seem.

By Marilyn Paluszak

Reprinted from a poem written in 2012 by Marilyn Paluszak

2020-09-01

For Claude
Read about Monet and see his Impressionist paintings at Claude Monet Gallery
For Claude

Allusive words where are you when the poem begins to fade and begs for something special to complete its mood. I call upon the Rhyme-Gods in hopes they will convey a way of resurrecting an ending for Monet. -- Marilyn Paluszak

Japanese Footbridge and Waterlilies

Charring Cross Bridge, London
Oscar-Claude Monet (1840-1926) was one of the founders of the Impressionist school of painting. People often confuse Monet with Manet until they study their art.

Monet worked largely outside (en plein air) unlike Edouard Manet who worked in a studio. For an interesting read on both of these artists, check out this illuminating article from Artst.

Monet started out drawing charcoal sketches that he sold for a few francs. It was Eugène Boudin who taught him how to use oil paints. Boudin also taught Monet the technique of en plein air painting.
2020-08-25
COGNITIVE DISTORTION is a terror of the mind…
Reprinted from a poem written for a friend in residence at the Brattleboro Retreat in Vermont. This poem repeated itself in my mind for the entire two-hour ride home where, to my relief, I found paper and pen.

Cognitive distortion is used to describe a pattern of thinking that shifts events into a negative framework; leading to feelings of sadness, anger and hopelessness. There are many forms but one is the all-or-nothing or black-or-white of extreme thinking where there is no middle ground.
Cognitive Distortion

There is a terror of the mind that clouds reality and gives shape to lie. Black, dim emptiness hangs heavy like a veil to filter out the truth. Evil throbs in tune with bleak despair to magnify the rage. Retreat a bit. Wait a bit. Let the soul begin to heal. When mist is blown aside the radiance within forms first a tint of gray. That bright-striped rainbow is pulsing deep within to bring color into life. Light is there. Good is there. Allow your joy to spread. Erase the error of the mind that clouds reality and gives shape to lie. -- Marilyn Paluszak
Salvador Dali with his Soft Portrait with Bacon

If there were anyone who could understand cognitive distortion I think it would be one of my favorites, the Spanish surrealist, Salvador Dali (1904-1989).

The Persistence of Memory

The Dream

The Elephants

Self Portrait, 1921

Soft Portrait with Bacon
2020-08-18
Gertrude
Okay, these are not the puppies that Gertrude mothered but beagle puppies are so cute I had to share!

Gertrude Mother Nature's warped imagination left aches and loneliness within her breast. No babes to mother into life. Soulful eyes drooped to emptiness in her nest. Poor Gertrude, born to birth but forever barren, alien, unlike all the rest. Fate countered by a miracle of beagle birth abandoned, swelling her breast. Mother Hen to the rescue filled with coos, contentment and overflowing love, eternal. Happy Gertrude has puppychicks now. As if borne from her breast like all the rest. -Marilyn Paluszak

Republished by Marilyn Paluszak from a poem originally written in 1988 and edited in 2011 (thanks to Ted Kooser’s hints in The Poetry Home Repair Manual.

Inspiration came from a Ripley’s Believe It or Not! item published in the (Albany, NY) Sunday Times Union, December 4, 1988.

“Gertrude,” owned by Ken Hatch of Alpena, Michigan, had never laid a single egg, but when seven beagle puppies were abandoned by their mother, she adopted them and at long last became a Mother Hen.
2020-08-11