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Poetry: My Happy Place

I wrote this poem in 2006 when I was in the midst of my quarter life crisis.

There was once a place

It was my happy place

But it forever disappeared 

When puberty appeared 

Now I live somewhere else

Where almost everything fails

Where there are no more giggles

And everyone is fickle

Where being sad

Is the fad 

And no one cares

About anyone else

What I would give 

To get away from this 

And go back to 

Where no one is rude

And everyone smiles

And no one is a liar 

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Did I Ask For Your Advice?

I wrote this poem is creative writing class in 2006. It’s some kind of form poetry but can’t remember what it is.

me around the time I wrote this poem

Did I ask for your advice?

Father and mother

You are not that wise

So I told a few lies

I didn’t mean to hurt her

Did I ask for your advice?

I had to break mine and her ties

Any words, please don’t offer

You are not that wise

I’m a man of twenty-five

Don’t treat me like a youngster

Did I ask for your advice?

Please don’t give me those eyes

And pretend to be higher

You are not that wise

Stop it with your sighs,

My dear mother and father

Did I ask for your advice?

You are not that wise!

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Trapped

I wrote this poem in late 2005 when I was going to school full time, working part time and raising two kids.

Trapped in a maze 

Not knowing where to go

Gotta get out of this place

Before becoming conformity’s whore

A maze with traps

Like kids and responsibilities 

It’s all getting too suffocating

And I can’t breathe

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: License

I wrote this poem in 2002 about my oldest son’s bio dad. I had a lot of angry emotions about how he abandoned him.

Me with my oldest son circa 1999
me with my oldest son circa 1999

A license to create is what shouldn’t

Be given to those who don’t know how to 

Appreciate their child’s laughter 

Or comfort their high pitch cries

A license to create is what shouldn’t 

Be given to those who don’t understand 

What it takes to be an example to 

Those that descend from them 

A license to create is what shouldn’t 

Be given to those who leave children 

In the dust to follow their own desires 

Without looking back on their offspring’s 

 sad little face that whimpers,

“Daddy, come back”