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Ruth Garnes Poem
When I’m known, he’ll come knocking.
Left alone to cry for our children,
I wish for them to know, the truth
not become bitter, broken, or hopeless.
The choice to conceal, be honest,
My dilemma, want better for them.
If I can get ahead despite rejection,
Social issues, challenges, being ill equip,
So could they, I want them to know this.
Determination make the impossible possible.
Even if alone and unsupported.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2015
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Ruth Garnes Poem
Pitter patter of my own feet
Splashing in water puddles.
Excited as if for the first time
Barefoot met concrete.
Was never drenched until then.
Or felt raindrops upon my head.
Avoided it as if I'd melt.
Did not see any thrill in getting wet,
or going shoeless, until the day, I tried it.
On rainy days I never played,
not anything other than board games.
This day a teen cheered me on,
Adults watched from behind misty windows.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2014
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Ruth Garnes Poem
Became a Stribu model barefooted.
One of many but an ordinary person.
Wore a shirt from Walmart.
A denim skorts from Jcp.
My teenage daughter was humiliated.
I felt great, forgot my illness, heartaches.
Stood proud clothe in my brown skin.
Whoever withheld, restricted, am free,
though cancer ravishes, I stripped
for my child who's ashamed,
other who don't know, cannot afford screening, treatment.
For the homeless, those who cannot afford.
I stood shoeless. Am thankful for all I have, am given.
Most importantly for life. My gift to those who are no longer,
at the early stages, the end.
I stood for you shoeless and unrestricted.
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Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2015
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Ruth Garnes Poem
Home, the place I wish to be.
There I’ll attain rest, experience peace,
support, and not feel afraid.
The wind chimes would be welcoming.
It would be saturated with happiness.
Wish it could be by Christmas.
But know it won't be, am still searching.
Promised myself, I’ll find a place.
It will be perfect for me.
Those who turned their backs, cursed me,
will not place their feet on my door mat.
That will be my gift to me.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2014
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Ruth Garnes Poem
Not money, the way you loved came between us.
Every woman loves a diamond ring, emerald, gold something.
Many times, I only needed to be held, cared for, not things,
promises but your presesnce.
The tapestry of women you embraced sent a clear message.
Your desire was for a woman, not a special someone.
I needed to be number one, the only one, not one of a dozen.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2015
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Ruth Garnes Poem
Buried under troubles, A golden heart lay.
Deserving but ignored having been given away.
Continues to support without demands, maintains wellness.
Not from desire but its role in sustaining life.
The heart functions as the organ of love,
Sensitive to pain, inactivity,
Does all that's necessary, For the sake of one.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2014
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Ruth Garnes Poem
She writes with intent, a purpose,
To inform and enlighten.
Some find her pen frightening.
A sigh, nod and grin,
Acceptance, but no comments.
Injustice done to her and others.
Needs not be repeated, her aim
To expose wrong doing.
Knew her when she was younger.
Unlike now she observed but never said a word.
She addresses difficult issues,
Others pretend don’t exist.
Dance around topics.
Recognized for advancement,
One cannot be so straight forward.
She insists for change,
She must, until ….
The world discovers her truth.
She momentarily lies buried in frustration.
A different generation will comprehend,
What the present and previous could not grasp.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2014
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Ruth Garnes Poem
There were times in life I felt I couldn’t win.
Then I considered numbing my pain with gin.
I know it would’ve been a bad mistake.
Even if it took all my troubles away.
I grew up feeling good about the body I was in,
But I also felt the pressures of trying to look thin.
So I only had a hamburger every now and then.
And I was back to salads and working out again.
Loved my body ‘n I don’t feel less than anyone.
Love my body though I don’t look like my friends.
Over and over, I keep telling them again
Stop criticizing; I am happy with my body.
I may not be a size six but I know I'm fit.
They were the ones who couldn't handle it.
I saw it in all in their reaction.
They didn't show me any compassion.
It mattered how they made me feel.
Still my thick curves were ideal.
It didn't matter, what they believed.
Or that they were trying to hurt me.
Loved my body ‘n I don’t feel less than anyone.
Love my body though I don’t look like my friends.
Over and over, I keep telling them again
Stop criticizing; I am happy with my body.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2015
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Ruth Garnes Poem
His words, sugar coated lies.
Like honey comb to flies.
Many are drawn to it.
His sting am familiar with.
No longer can I be enticed.
Knew love's beauty, his actions were ugly.
The dance of honey and flies,
Sweet trap for the innocent,
those unaware of his character.
Only deception follows.
He entangles the needy.
The wounded in search of truth.
The weary, he deprives of rest.
Mostly those who trusts him.
He is Satanic.
Copyright © Ruth Garnes | Year Posted 2014
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