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Personal Note:
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Poem
Under the bright lights and up on the main stage
A woman spins plates while the audience rage
She has on a tight dress in its sequined glory
We can watch her caper and listen to her story
I have this plate spinning and now another there
Two in the back, balanced on the legs of that chair 
Spin and twirl, I am adding more to whirl and spin
Keeping those up and adding yet more with a grin
So many plates are spinning with more suspended 
Darting and dashing –no time- success is dependent
On not allowing anything to slow, to falter, to fall
More on the stage, again, now go low, now go tall
The music is garish and the strain shows on her face
A forest of spinning plates, the strain leaves its trace
That plate is my job, with its demands on my time
The pretty one is my daughter, my absence a crime
I don’t even know if my lover is  here; think about that
There is a plate by were I read a book, its where I sat
Once the show has started, there is so little time left
Keeping all these plates spinning is a skill of the deft
They spin and spin and I am alone up here in the front
What happens if one falls, I can’t risk it, I simply wont
I am getting tired and I want to go to sleep in a warm bed
I want to make love to my man, kiss my girl’s soft head
Too many plates are spinning around, but if I add more
Won’t it be better for me, there is lots of room on the floor
The audience claps and chants and demands the trick
But tonight I’m going to make love and try to be orgasmic 
I hear a voice whisper, he says, drop some of those plates
Come out with me, let’s eat some dinner, go out on a date
Broken dishes and shards of pottery can be swept up easily
But giggling and laughing is what you should seek eagerly
It will be there tomorrow, the tricks and the onerous tasks
Cara mio, it is my whispers “you are doing all that is asked”
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