Tag Archives: money

How?

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You have to just let go
they keep telling me.
But how?
I think really
IT needs to let go of me.
IT has its hooks in me.
I want to be free.
I want to feel alive again.
I don’t want to be angry,
hurt, sad or depressed anymore.
I want to set my life in order.
I want my home to be organized.
I want to have work
that allows me
to support myself and my children.
But tomorrow
I apply for food stamps
because my money is all gone.
I get angry when I think about this.
He left our marriage,
and has moved on.
Now he spends his time
and his money on another.
Yes, I want to let go.
But how?

I Hope So

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Driving home,
tired to the bone,
the Pawlonia and honey locust
give me hope,
glowing in the setting sun.
Whizzing by
do the other drivers see
the majesty of this moment,
this life?
I’m feeling alone.
All of the other old feelings come back.
I ask again why it has come to this,
why I am now struggling financially,
why my children aren’t with me daily,
why he gets to strut around town
with a new woman
(in her sexy dresses and high heels)
while I’m at home alone
worrying about money.
I’m tired.
Maybe this will all look different tomorrow.
I hope so.

NaPoWriMo 2015 Day 7: Our Real Worth

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Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt invites us to write about money:

It could be about not having enough, having too much (a nice kind of problem to have), the smell, or feel, or sensory aspects of money. It could also just be a poem about how we decide what has value or worth.

Hmmm…money.  I guess I’ll just take a deep breath and see what happens.

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They say it doesn’t buy happiness,
but if you don’t have any,
you probably won’t be very happy.

It has been called the root of evil,
but many have used it for good,
building schools, hospitals,
or a simple sandwich
for the man on the street.

Some among us have let
the most precious moments
slip by
in pursuit of it,
only to discover at the end
that they cannot take it with them
where they’re going.

Some are born into so much of it
that they are hard-pressed to appreciate it
as someone born in the tropics
and having never known the cold
can’t really appreciate
the sweet warmth of the ocean breeze–
always there, enveloping them.

It is energy,
like wind, rain, and sun.
It can flow like a stream,
it can freeze like ice.

It can be used to create great things
but of itself is worth nothing.
A starving man reaches for bread, not gold;
poor Midas was mighty regretful
when he realized what he’d done.

Let’s make peace with it
however much of it we have,
or don’t have.

And above all,
let us remember that our real worth
comes from within.