Posted on by elizadalton

Poesía: Ahora Recién

Here’s the English Version of this poem:

Poetry: Three Years Too Late

ahora recién reconoces tu error y me pides disculpas
ahora recién decides enfrentar el dolor que generaste
al negar la existencia de nuestro hijo
ahora recién quieres desempeñar tu papel de padre
después de tu desgraciada ausencia de tres años
esperando que te perdone como si nada paso
lo siento, pero vete de aquí–
el no necesita a un infeliz en su vida
que nunca pudo dar la cara por el
que prefiero esconderlo y olvidarlo por tres años
que quiere usarlo para limpiar su conciencia
para sentirse mejor

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry: Fighting with My Teenage Son

I wrote this poem in October of 2022 inspired by my middle son.

me and my middle child in March of 2022

Me and my teenage son fight and I regret it the next day
I’ve watched too many people mourn their sons this year
I’ve felt the screams of those close to me
asking God why he took their babies too young
Young men who will never be fathers,
Young men who will never see their children grow up
into rebellious and sassy teens
and while I understand conflicts happens between
parent and child
I also know we’re both on borrowed time
and I don’t want our angry words
to be the last exchange between us
if its his or my last day today

Posted on by elizadalton · 1 Comment

Poetry: Guilt

I wrote this poem in February of this year inspired by my oldest son.

me and my oldest son in March of this year

the guilt visits me over the mother I should have been
I should have been older, wiser, married
but instead you ended up with an immature teen mom
who read you Stephen King instead of fairy tales
who played you Matchbox Twenty instead of lullabies
who wore you on my hip like a new fashion accessory
who missed the signs early on that you were different
because I was too self absorbed looking for love
but what’s done can’t be undone-
I hope one day you understand
I did the best I could with what I had

Posted on by elizadalton · 2 Comments

Poetry: What is Love

Happy Mother’s Day! I wrote this poem in April of last year inspired by my sons.

us in May of 2022

finding someone to love used to be a priority
until love burned me one too many times
besides I’ve always had 3 somebodies to love
that always deserved all of my attention
with them I’m never alone
with them there will always be inspiration
with them my love overflows
at this point, it would be useless for anyone to compete
with this complete kind of love

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry: My Three Kings

me and my 3 kings

Who are your favorite people to be around?

I met my first king at 17
when the nurse placed an alien like being in my arms
She was like “feed him”and I was like “how do I do that?”
What should I do with him?
Eventually I figured it out

I met my first king at 24
as a birthday present, just like me
he had to make a dramatic entrance
but it was love at first sight
No one could take him from my arms
I knew what to do

I met my third king at 30
He was a dream delivered
After a dream lost the previous year
He was planned, he was awaited, he was loved
He was welcome by everyone
with him, I felt a completion of love

Posted on by elizadalton · 6 Comments

Poetry: A Knock on My Door

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

this kid makes my dark days worth living

When darkness comes in and my sadness sets in
it covers me and I can’t see the point of it all
And then I hear a knock and it’s my son
And I remember, today he’s my life’s purpose
I need to get up and face another dreadful day
My child needs food and shelter
I can’t let my depression win
I’m a mother first
My darkness will have to be martyred
Remembering over and over again
on days like today my child’s presence
makes my bad days worth living

Posted on by elizadalton · 3 Comments

Play-Transition: Scene One

Characters: RON- age 67
CHLOE-age 24
LANDON-age 36

Scene 1

Setting

Ron’s Apartment, there are piles of stuff everywhere, picture frames hanging on the wall. Ron is sitting on the couch chewing beef jerky watching the TV. There is a knock on the door. It is his daughter Chloe . It’s about 3 PM and Ron is still in his pajamas. Ron, disgruntled, gets up to answer the door. Chloe is carrying a bunch of groceries in her hand.

RON:( opens door) Whadda ya want?
CHLOE: Oh geesh! Is that any way to greet your loving daughter ?
RON: Eh, you were interrupting me doing something important.
CHLOE: Sure, sure… now could you help me out wit one of of these bags before one of my arms falls off.
RON: (he takes one of the bags) Eh-I don’t know why you need to buy all of this stuff.
CHLOE: You mean your medicines, food, basic necessities for you to survive on. A basic ( CHLOE almost trips on a miscellaneous food wrapping) thank you would suffice. I told you to clean up some yesterday-you know the landlord—
RON: Landlord, shmanlord, She always threatens the same crap. “I will throw you out if you don’t clean. All bark, no bite. The old biddy shouldn’t care about what I do in the comfort of my own home as long as I pay her rent.
CHLOE: (starts to sit down-removing several car magazines) I wouldn’t be so sure of this. You know she has handed management over to her son. Do you really need all of these issues of Car and Ride magazines?
RON: Bug off! Will you? Nobody asks you to come over!
CHLOE: Dad (CHLOE goes to RON to put her hand on RON’s shoulder) It’s been over six months since mom died, perhaps-

RON shoos CHLOE’s hand away

RON: I don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of your damn business!
CHLOE: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…it’s just—
RON: Nothing. You are worrying about nothing.

There is an awkward moment of silence as RON has his back to CHLOE. CHLOE is trying to come up with something to say.

CHLOE: I guess I should go (CHLOE starts to get up tentatively) I have another errand to run.
RON: Good. I wouldn’t want your old man getting in the way of you doing anything important.
CHLOE: God! I just wish you wouldn’t be so…
RON: So what?
CHLOE: Nothing. I’ll leave you to your “important” tv watching.

CHLOE skips swiftly to the door

CHLOE: Bye dad.

RON goes back to sitting on the couch with a blank look on his face and stares at the TV.

Posted on by elizadalton · 2 Comments

Poem: They Said

I wrote this about my oldest son after a very proud mom moment. I thought about everything he went through and processed it through this poem.

me and my oldest son around the time I wrote this poem

I didn’t think this day

Would come so soon

I wasn’t prepared for the

Emotions I would feel

“You were doomed to 

Be another  “statistic” 

They said 

And autism on top of that!

Good luck

Becoming a productive 

Member of society 

They said 

“No way, will you succeed 

brown autistic boy,

Son of a teenage mom”

They said

Yet here you are –

Proving the naysayers wrong

Here is where you belong 

Not yet graduated from 

High school but starting 

Your first college classes

Tonight

Here is where you belong 

Despite the obstacles,

The haters, society

Trying to fuck you over

Here is where you belong

-on the start of a journey to success

And here I am 

Beaming with pride

And love for you

My beautiful brown boy

Defying everything and 

Everyone that ever 

Stood in your way.

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry: Countries

I wrote this poem in 2016 when I was reflecting on how different my children were. At the time, my middle son was going through a difficult time and it was hard to deal with.

my 3 sons in July of 2021

Living with my three children

Is like living in three different countries

My oldest would be Singapore

With strict rules and laws, 

He hates flaws in himself 

And others and is unforgiving

It’s challenging to live in 

Singapore

My middle child would be a war torn ridden country 

Like Syria

That’s currently filled with constant chaos,

He is trying to find himself in a place 

He feels unwanted and lost

It is an unpredictable struggle

To reside in Syria

My youngest child would 

Be an established and friendly country like Spain

He is vibrant, laid back yet energetic 

Occasionally you hear about political protests 

That reminds me of his occasional tantrums when

His life feels unjust

It is almost a predictable and easy existence to 

Live in Spain 

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry : Dreams

I wrote this poem in late 2007 when I was depressed about my life. Again, instead of going to therapy, I just wrote a poem about it. Lol.

none of us know what we’re doing

Tainted dreams 

of life is what

I have left.

A career of abstract 

nothingness lies

before me. 

Chaotic and sensitive off springs

I must put before me.

Frigidity and

senility in my

marital bed lie

next to me. 

Is this it? Is this 

what is left 

of my 

foolish childhood dreams.

Scattered dreams

in my past 

become failures

of my present.

Will my soul

ever recuperate

from the cost?

Will I ever be that

hopeful again?

Posted on by elizadalton · 1 Comment

Poetry: Lame

This is another poem about the bio dad of my oldest son. Obviously I had a lot of anger directed at him that I should have gone to therapy for but instead I just wrote a lot of angry poetry. Ha.

me and my oldest son in 2006

You don’t know him and chances are 

 You never will

You could’ve been somebody real in his life

But you BLEW IT! 

So now is the time to say 

Goodbye forever. 

Posted on by elizadalton

Poetry: The Difference

I wrote this in 2006 after I was reflecting my first years of being a mother to my eldest child who I had at 17. Becoming a mother at such a young age didn’t make me the best parent and at times I still tried to act my age and party a lot even though I was a parent. It used to eat me up inside but I’ve come to terms that I did the best I could under the circumstances.

me and my oldest in 1999 when I was 18

Late nights at the club

Drunk and dancing-you

Singing lullabies

Until he fell asleep-I

Getting ass from 

an unknown stranger-you

Looking for monsters under the bed

and wishing them away-I

Waking up in an unknown place

With a helluva hangover-you

Waking up from little hands 

Shaking my shoulders-I

You and I=me

Me =two different truths

About the way your childhood

 Was seen