MJ blathers

dark poet who loves to laugh


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the cost

the hidden cost of giving

of which we speak nothing

of how it drains us

only other givers seem to know

we smile, and say nothing together

having decided long ago

it is worth it

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still hero

a young man so in love
he says nothing to her friends and family
who hate him
says nothing to her cold shame
of unresolved abuse
he simply will not
be moved from her side


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mother human

my kids have seen me
when even i know
i am acting like a fool
they’ve calmed me from fury
curled into my arms
when i’m overwhelmed
with grief
they’ve told me to rest
when i’m bleary-eyed
and cranky, frustrated
and fearful of losing
everything – yet again
and yet, they rain flowers –
rhodies, carnations, roses,
petunias red, purple, blue,
blush ivory, forgiving white –
upon me on a day which celebrates
what i know i have have come
close to failing to deserve
my kids have raised me well


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ken’s song

he sang
in the shower
at the BBQ pit in the yard
stirring the embers
in the bar for karaoke
in the car
on his Harley-Davidson
matching his key
to the sound of the bike
tires on the road
in the church choir
the music in his soul
allowed him kindness
to gathering family
neighbors, congregation
a stranger needing a hand
and now that willing spirit
tenors in celestial choir
adding pure tone
to the music of the spheres


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quite a day

he called to tell me
of his sister’s recent
photo session for the arts magazine
layout for the interview
for her recent improv award
and of his own first trial
appearance today, bewildered
but evidently appearing unphased
by a witness’s unexpected answer
and of the call he missed
while in court
and the second call from
a respected judge to whom
he’d applied for clerkship
thrilled, he said he’d been
accepted
i’d know from his voice
that the answer had been yes