At eleven I headed out for lunch at Tin Pan Alley again and ate with a couple, when I was finishing Tony came in for lunch and I sat with him for a while talking about his new book and checking up on the news on some friends we have in common.
After lunch I went to the keynote address by Gerri Cannon she is running for state representative in New Hampshire. She talked her transition, getting fired, becoming a truck driver, and then a carpenter. Then running for the school board and winning in 2016.
For supper I joined another couple and their friends, one was a friend from Facebook, Bernice and we met for the first time; we ate at Mac’s Seafood Restaurant.
Afterward we went to a poetry slam where Bernice read a poem by her partner and Dainna a longtime Fair goer and volunteer who passed away last winter.
I also read some of my poems.
When I was transitioning I was going through a lot of emotions and through those emotions I wrote poems, the first poem that I read was the first poem that I wrote…
Lady in the Mirror
Heart skips a beat.
Stomach flutters.
Breath is lost.
I see me.
I am whole.
I am one.
The next two that I read were about my parents passing.
I used to have a stash of clothes that I hid and every once in awhile they would vanish, my mother found them but she never said anything, it was the elephant in the room.
The Question
You never asked.
I always wondered.
But, I never asked.
It was our little secret.
The question unasked.
Little things that let me know that you knew.
But never asked.
The little hints here and there.
But the question remained unasked.
Hints just loud enough for my ears.
Oh, I always wondered about the question unasked.
Would our love survived.
If asked.
What would it have been like with the question asked?
What might have been if you asked?
What might have been if I asked?
But now is too late for you or me to ask.
And the last poem was about my father’s passing,
A Passing
There comes a time to past
Time to shed a tear
Time for the last
Time for the words we don't want to hear.
What we all must face
Time for what we all fear
Time not to waste
Time for the words we don't want to hear.
Our time will also come
Time for what we can not seer
Time to go home
Time for the words we don't want to hear.
Time to say one last good-bye.
After the spoken word was an open mic.
One of the songs that was sung was Don McLean’s “American Pie”
The song brought me back to my college days, my roommate used to play my record of the song over, and over, and over. He used to leave the arm on my turntable up so it would continuously as he passed out from booze.
The last song played was Carol King’s “You Got a Friend” and that song brought me back a couple of years ago when I went to see “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” on Broadway with my cousins.
Music is like that it can transport you to another time and place.
My friends left to go to Roomers and I went back to my cottage.
After lunch I went to the keynote address by Gerri Cannon she is running for state representative in New Hampshire. She talked her transition, getting fired, becoming a truck driver, and then a carpenter. Then running for the school board and winning in 2016.
For supper I joined another couple and their friends, one was a friend from Facebook, Bernice and we met for the first time; we ate at Mac’s Seafood Restaurant.
Afterward we went to a poetry slam where Bernice read a poem by her partner and Dainna a longtime Fair goer and volunteer who passed away last winter.
I also read some of my poems.
When I was transitioning I was going through a lot of emotions and through those emotions I wrote poems, the first poem that I read was the first poem that I wrote…
Lady in the Mirror
Heart skips a beat.
Stomach flutters.
Breath is lost.
I see me.
I am whole.
I am one.
The next two that I read were about my parents passing.
I used to have a stash of clothes that I hid and every once in awhile they would vanish, my mother found them but she never said anything, it was the elephant in the room.
The Question
You never asked.
I always wondered.
But, I never asked.
It was our little secret.
The question unasked.
Little things that let me know that you knew.
But never asked.
The little hints here and there.
But the question remained unasked.
Hints just loud enough for my ears.
Oh, I always wondered about the question unasked.
Would our love survived.
If asked.
What would it have been like with the question asked?
What might have been if you asked?
What might have been if I asked?
But now is too late for you or me to ask.
And the last poem was about my father’s passing,
A Passing
There comes a time to past
Time to shed a tear
Time for the last
Time for the words we don't want to hear.
What we all must face
Time for what we all fear
Time not to waste
Time for the words we don't want to hear.
Our time will also come
Time for what we can not seer
Time to go home
Time for the words we don't want to hear.
Time to say one last good-bye.
After the spoken word was an open mic.
One of the songs that was sung was Don McLean’s “American Pie”
The song brought me back to my college days, my roommate used to play my record of the song over, and over, and over. He used to leave the arm on my turntable up so it would continuously as he passed out from booze.
The last song played was Carol King’s “You Got a Friend” and that song brought me back a couple of years ago when I went to see “Beautiful: The Carole King Musical” on Broadway with my cousins.
Music is like that it can transport you to another time and place.
My friends left to go to Roomers and I went back to my cottage.
My mother and I always had an elephant in the room, too. I often wonder, had things been different, if she'd have been as proud of having a happy daughter as she was distraught by having a troubled son. The closest answer I have is in her last words: "It's nobody's fault."
ReplyDelete