Spring's first daisies
came today
I plucked one
and tucked her
behind my ear

I'm pretty

My hard luck bones,
needed a home
to end the roam,
a place called "own,"
my hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones
thought they had slowed,
had found a home,
could settle some,
my hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones
for touch did moan,
louder did groan
striking the tones,
my hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones
they nearly froze,
but words found floes;
Expression flows,
and flows and flows,
and flows and flows,
and flows and flows
from hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones
are filled with holes
bored by your woes,
and by my knows,
and by your throws,
and by my lows,
and by your stones,
and by my no's,
and by your chokes,
and by my woes,
and through your holds,
my life forgoes
with hard luck bones,
bones filled with holes,
holes filled with stones
to make me whole;
Need many stones
for hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones,
hard path I chose,
and not I chose,
yet I blame none,
in life is done,
and what is done,
my bones have done,
mistakes are some,
I'm not alone,
I'm not alone,
not only one
with erring bones,
so throw your stones
at hard luck bones,
so throw your stones
at hard luck bones,
my hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones,
have dreams that grow,
to hope they hold,
for grassy knolls,
bright petals strewn,
where sunlight shone,
where hearts are wove,
and tongues are wove,
with pens are wove,
and woes are flown,
and sorrows gone,
and woes are none,
and hard luck done,
and love is come
to hard luck bones,
my beautiful bones,
my scarred bones,
my living bones,
my breathing bones,
carry the drones
few others know,
that no one knows,
Everyone knows,
has hard luck bones,
Everyone tows
some hard luck bones,
just like my bones,
my hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones
are not so old,
and they still grow,
ring louder tolls,
sound brighter tones,
happier tones,
melodious tones,
more joyous tones,
my hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones,
my bones I chose
to scribe in poems;
impatient prose,
I cannot pose,
remain disrobed
baring my bones,
their countless holes
repaired with stones,
make stronger bones,
My hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones,
to rise I chose,
bad doors I close,
and open those
where new life flows,
and bones will grow,
and grow and grow,
and grow and glow,
and glow and grow,
and walk new roads,
and peal new tolls,
follow new floes,
survive more holes,
words to be honed
with hard luck bones,
words being honed
by bones and stones,
words carved and honed
upon the stones,
words cut and honed
on hard luck bones,
my words are bones,
my hard luck bones.

My hard luck bones,
my poems are home
for hard luck bones,
my poems they own
my bones they own,
a place called "home,"
my hard luck bones
have found a home,
a home to own,
my poems are home,
my hard luck bones.

My human shell bears the scars
of motherhood.
Slightly drooping breasts,
scarred from giving milk to newborns,
are still full enough to playfully squeeze,
sensitive enough to become erect.
Stretched out skin from my abdomen,
especially the lower abdomen,
bore first the weight of a woman baby
to carry the human species,
then the larger man baby
to be a strong dna provider.
I do not compare myself to an 18 or 20
year old or even to one who has been blessed
with 'pliable skin' genes.
I compare myself to how I might look
if I did not exercise,
if I did not try to avoid too many
delicious, tasty treats,
if I did not have confidence.
I know that I am beautiful
despite the scars, inside and out.
Beautiful inside and out.
Scars inside and out.
If a person would jeer at me,
then I say 'Let them jeer.'
For each one who jeers,
there will be a hundred who cheer.