# love # family

Thanks for everything Jennifer

What life dealt me was far from fair

Raised by my Pilgrim crew

Marine blood coercing through my veins 

Without that twisted mixture

I might not have it survived

I was a Boston Hospital fixture

Faced every obstacle and now I thrive,

finally thankful for being alive

Let's get back to you

All I can say is thank you

It doesn't seem to be enough

God, through a lot of rough stuff at me

Nothing compared to the bumpy road I chose

Because of my own dumb decisions 

Many self induced problems arose 

Some days, many  conversations, Let's be honest,

I'm the reason for some of your grey hairs

And maybe a few kill you stares

I was once happily married

The same Indian that said I do

Now, she, couldn't care less for me

Now facing divorce and custody

Courtrooms can be uneasy at best

Neither parties control the result

I have to confess

I married a complete mess

In the begining we were thriving

Only to one day, wake up and realize

I went dumpster diving 

Blindly, I believed that walking demons lies

You were there to comfort me 

during my cries

When it comes to you

I'll always be a fan

I'll always love and respect you,

my special cousin Jennifer Kirkland

View jpike's Full Portfolio

A House for a Home


A house for a home that looks like a dome

Someone once told me I smelled like a gnome


Others from town frolick near Solick

A moulock from Doulouck

Who only is only a Solick


A house for a home is far you know

Ive even heard that it is in nome

View naboostarfighter7's Full Portfolio

My Grandmother's Hospitality


Every time I go to my grandmother’s house she always wants to have a lot of food ready. She gets angry when we don’t let her know in advance that we’re going to visit her because she doesn’t have time to go get us food. Barbacoa tacos, refreshments, desserts, fish, vegetables and more. She will always have all types ready for her grandchildren. She feels obligated to have every possible food item we might want. Food isn’t the only way she is a good host, but it’s what she thinks is most important to us. Sometimes I feel like she cares too much for small things such as these. These small acts are everything to her. She thinks that we’ll be disappointed if she doesn’t have some type of food we might be in the mood for. I’m always very grateful every time I go visit her and I let her know that I appreciated her infallible hospitality. Sometimes I wonder why this matters so much to her. I usually ponder about this after I see her. I always come to the conclusion that she feels like everything has to be perfect for when we visit or else she will feel like we won’t visit anymore due to our disappointment. I feel a great sorrow when this realization sinks in. I always tell her that she doesn’t need to get so many things for us and that it’s okay, but it just flies over her head. I feel like I do my part in telling her that, but I can’t help feeling guilty. I’m not sure why I feel guilt. In her old age, she goes out of her way to buy and prepare food for her grandchildren, even if she is all alone at home. It’s quite conflicting to feel such appreciation and gratitude towards her, but at the same time feel guilty and invasive. She’s all alone so one could say that paying her a visit is good, yet she puts so much pressure on herself to make everything perfect that I feel like I shouldn’t go sometimes, like I should spare her the stress. She is the most selfless woman that I have ever met and it amazes me how much it means to her to please her family.

View joaquinast's Full Portfolio

My mother's earrings

My mother doesn’t take her earrings off unless she’s going to sleep. Every single day of my life and in all of the photos I have seen of her (even baby pictures) she is wearing earrings. Due to his one would think she would have an outstanding collection with all shapes, sizes and colors one could ever imagine but she only has about two or three pairs. This is mostly because she has lost and replaced them endless times and she has never been the type to spend a lot of money on things she labels as non-essentials. The style, however, has stayed fairly consistent throughout the years. Simple, small hoop earrings. The earrings have varied though from fancy anniversary gifts from my father to cheap department store ones. She often says she feels naked without them, the sensation of the small piece of jewelry hanging from her ear is as fundamental to her as wearing pants. Through my eighteen years of life and the corresponding 9 schools, 7 houses, 3 cities and 2 countries I have lived in; my mom has been there supporting me in every single (smart or otherwise) decision I have made. When I wanted to try theater, she was the one that drove me to rehearsals, when I decided to go into the school choir she was there at every concert, and when finally realized that I had no real future in the arts and should probably stick to sports, she was in the sidelines in practically every softball, basketball and soccer game I somewhat successfully competed on. As a certified overthinker I often need validation and reassurance in other to get out of my own head. My mom has been that person consistently throughout my life. Through presentations, scholarship applications, big games, and the general stress of adolescence she has been one of the people I go to for advice and reassuring words.  She is definitely what one could call a worrier and through her most hectic times (me getting salmonella as kid, my brother’s several injuries, etc.) she has rubbed her earrings as way to calm down, an adult comfort object if you will.  She says it grounds her and reigns in her thoughts when her head is busy thinking of all the possible outcomes of situation. Her earrings have been a constant source of calmness and reassurance for her as she has been for me.

View melpar26's Full Portfolio

My grandmother´s red lips.


It doesn't matter whether it is summer or winter, spring or fall, my grandmother will always wear the same shade of red lipstick. She is short, not more than one fifty-five, her face is white almost pale full of wrinkles due to her age, she has small brown eyes that disappear when she smiles just like mine, her chocolate hair is straight and short but what really stands out from her face are those perfectly painted red lips.The scarlet red on her thin lips is not shiny, but still it manages to capture everyone's attention, usually, people found themselves staring at her lips while she is talking instead of looking at her eyes. My grandpa used to say that those lips were his curse and that he will do everything they asked him to, usually, he ended up talking about this after a few drinks. As a little kid I used to like to stay the night at my grandmother's house, In the mornings I could always count on a delicious breakfast and a red warm smile. My grandmother's red lipsticks are all over her house you can find them in every drawer and closet, and in every single bag and purse she owns, they are all the same color just different brands. The red paint on her lips is the cause of the stains in her clothes and of the permanent red edge in her cup of coffee, they are also guilty of leaving a big red mark on my cheek every time she kisses me. It always amazes me the ease with which she can paint her lips, in a moving car or without light she always gets perfect results even after she lost part of her eyesight due to diabetes. Throughout all these years I have heard a variety of funny and rude jokes about the red lips, but now that I put some thought into her red lips I do not longer found them funny, I think they are mysterious and full of stories how many words, songs, poems have this red lips pronounced? How many different mouths and cheeks have they kissed?, How many different foods have they ate?. I have asked my grandmother several times what was that made her paint her lips red? She only half smiles as if she is hiding something and tells me that it is because red is her favorite color.

View caroavellan's Full Portfolio

My father´s boot

My father Boots

Little girls love to play with their mom high heels. The high looks scary and exiting for those little girls. Me, instead, I would rather to use my dad´s boots. They are big and heavy. They are brown and dirty. Ordinary people cannot see the special of his boots, my boots. The sound of the boots hitting the ground is the indisputable signal that my father has arrived home. That sound means that I finally can hug my dad after a long day without him. After giving me a hug, he takes off his boots. And then we enjoy a delicious dinner. Every day he does the same. After dinner, I slipped away and play with my father´s boots. I can do anything or be anyone with those boots. I can climb the highest mountain, walk thorough the most dangerous jungle, be a brave astronaut who jumps in the moon, be a soldier or my dad´s favorite I can be an engineer. When I was little wearing the boots took away all my strength. My little arms had to help my legs just to walk one step. I did not care. I love to wear my boots, no matter how exhausted I ended after wearing it. Instead my dad walks with naturalness. He makes it looks so easy. My father does everything looks son easy. I was so small and the boots were so big. I was just a baby and my father was a hero. Sometimes the pair off by itself. My foot was too petty to handle the boots. I love his boots. At the beginning, I did not understand why my father´s boot was so heavy. For me walk was even painful. He explained to me that the steal of the toes protects him from danger. It instead of land me it motivated my imagination.  My hero had a shield in his foot.  Sometimes he does not take off his boots so we dance together. He takes my hand I take his hand. I put my foot on his foot and we dance at the compass of our hearts. We dance as we were just one person. Then I grow up. I grow up and the boots started to fit me. With the time, I become too big to climb into my dad´s foot. Now we dance in a different way, without his boots. Now we dance like the ordinary people, the same one that does not understand why my dad´s boots are special. The boots started to fit me, as well the responsibilities started to chase me. Now my hero is far away, and I am following his big boots footprints.



View lauraoronatrujillo's Full Portfolio