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Best Poems Written by Cindi Rockwell

Below are the all-time best Cindi Rockwell poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

A Place Called Beautiful

There is a place called beautiful nestled deep in my mind's eye
Gingham curtains crisply pressed frame periwinkle summer sky
Brass kettle on the old gas stove reflects cast iron pans
And always at the kitchen sink, I see busy, wrinkled hands.

There is a place called beautiful, I'm transported with a whiff
Of coffee brewing, dark and strong, I long to take a sip.
And in the air a trace of Tollhouse cookies baked this morn
And some perfume that only in this special spot is worn.

There is a place called beautiful I hear in perfect dreams
As Frankie croons and Louis wails all whilst the kettle steams
And as she works, she never tires as she hums and sings along
But the harmony of her lilting laugh is by far my favorite song.

There is a place called beautiful, it tastes like sweetest creams
Made in a bucket with a crank til her arms wore out, it seems
And topped with juicy berries that would burst upon each bite
And juices stained my mouth and clothes most every summer night.

There is a place called beautiful, I long to feel again
The naive sense that everywhere was as safe and free of sin
Where love and peace were daily served with a kiss upon the cheek
And grandma's kitchen always felt like you just found what you seek.

 4/9/2019 / Poetry Marathon Final Placement / Sponsor: Mark Toney

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

The Journey

Once upon a weedy lawn
At Cedar Oaks Retirement Home
There sat my mother, weak and old
On an afghan knit to block the cold.

It was summer, but in mom's grey eyes
Was winter, when all around us dies.
I had tried to park her in the sun
Though I doubt she could notice what I'd done.

The disease had eaten up her brain
So little of her now remained
She didn't even know my name
I knew her not, much to my shame.

I looked around our patch of earth
Saw dandelions,and thought with mirth
Of how when small these grew quite wild
Mom would pick them as she smiled.

"Blow upon this cloud of seed,
"Then wish for what you really need."
I picked one now,and sadly blew
I asked for "mom" I never knew.

Suddenly a gust of wind
Took those seeds and made them spin
I felt my body start to rise
And change to match the seeds in size.

My mother gasped, & sucked us in
The seeds and me like some great wind
I saw her teeth, quite brown from smoking
And feared that I might cause her choking.

I swirled around, then down a slide
"Is this my mother I'm inside?!"
I landed in a battered lung
Where signs of cigarettes had clung.

And unsure of just where to go
I found a bridge, and crossed it slow.
Whence I entered a crucial part.
I found myself in momma's heart.

Where in a corner, dark and dusty
A young girl played, her laugh so lusty.
Her eyes weren't grey but tinged with blue
The plaited hair I also knew.

Her teeth so white, her face unlined
It was my mother, quite a find!
A joy, a freedom never shown
A lightness in her manner, tone.

And then a moment changed it all
I saw my grandma softly call
And whisper in my mother's ear
"Your dad has died. I'm sorry, dear."

Her wailing nearly deafened me
As the joy drained out like tides at sea.
Seeing all her pain and grief
I felt unwelcome, like a thief.

So I moved further in her heart
And came upon a teenage tart.
Awkwardly smoking, trying too hard
And too easily letting down her guard.

She fell for boys like rain from clouds
Her clothes too tight, her make-up loud.
Each night she staggered home alone
Hoping one would actually phone.

Then came the day that in that place
Could only lead to her disgrace.
I saw my mom in grandma's parlor
And my granny pacing as she hollered.

She pointed at mom's bulging middle
Screamed, then cried, then swore a little.
Pulled my mom up to her feet
In one swift move, threw her on the street.

My mother was 16, expecting a child
Homeless as well, she ought to be wild.
But instead I saw a great peace abide her
As she gently caressed me still forming inside her.

I saw in her eyes how love was the way
She changed from a girl to a woman that day.
Not love for a boy, a career, a degree
The love that transformed her was her love for ME!

Already feeling like my heart could break
And not sure of how much more I could take,
I still turned around to roam and explore
Both anxious and wary for what was in store.

This part of her heart was lit bright as the sun
My mother was wedding her intended one.
I remembered the dresses, beautifully white
I remembered the dancing that went on all night.

And then like a knife tearing straight through my chest
I knew what I'd see when I looked at the rest.
My mother so happy to be loved and give back
And me, growing older, and jealous of "Zach."

My stepdad who treated me like I was his own
Whose only crime was to enter our home.
I wanted my mother's attention on me
I was blinded by self-centered jealousy.

I knew that my mother would have to pick me
Especially if he behaved violently.
I found I was born with a flair for theatrics
And ran to my mom, often faking hysterics

Til finally my mother was left with no choice
But to tell him to leave, with a crack in her voice.
And suddenly I saw what I hadn't before
This part of mom's heart looked all broken and sore.

I couldn't continue with ease like before
The walls were too thick, advancing a chore
As if my mother had run out of room
For chances of love to grow or to bloom.

Then finally I hit the last, great, thick wall
Without any access beyond it at all
And almost afraid to look at the view.
I nonetheless watched, as I knew I must do.

It was a scene I knew all too well.
My teenage years, when I put mom through hell.
When I dumped her for boys who cared nothing for me
Choosing from her real love just to flee.

I left her alone in her house in the woods
I left her for losers who sold me their goods.
And then, too proud to admit I was wrong
I never went back, til her health was long gone.

And it was too late to say how much I cared
Too late to know it was something we shared.
Ready to go, I took one last long glance
And I saw something I never expected, by chance.

I saw my mother, like time lapse pics
Every night of her life, never missing a tick
Down on her knees, by the side of her bed
Praying for ME, who left her for dead.

She prayed for my health, she prayed I'd find love,
She prayed I'd be blessed by our Dad up above.
And even when she couldn't walk on her own.
My mom still put my needs o'er her own.

When the tears rolled free down my face,
I heard a huge sigh, and felt pulled from my place.
And in half a minute I was back on the lawn
Front of mom and Cedar Oaks Retirement Home.

My mother looked down on me, suddenly aware
And I saw for the first time her pain and her care.
And I noticed also an angel-like glow,
As she reached out her hand, and said, "Now you know."

I hugged her, held her, thanked her til night.
But the lucid look never came back in her sight.
She passed shortly after, to my great dismay
But I'll never forget the gifts given that day.

I learned never discount the love of your mother,
Never trade in that bond for the sake of a lover.
I learned there is power in a mom's loving prayers
And there is a God who hears and who cares.

I learned about faith, and love unconditional.
I learned about judging by standards traditional.
And I learned that from a little seed
Can come most everything you need.

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

Kiss My Cloud

So you say you want to sit on MY cloud.
The view, you say, is rainbows and bluebirds.
I understand you hate your polyester,
Dishwasher safe, blue light special cloud.
It is weak, sagging under the weight of your expectations.
It is no longer fluffy, no longer billowy, no longer white.
It is empty and dingy and flat. Like your soul.

You can't see the best part of my cloud because it is on the inside,
Where it is built from the sweat of a hundred strong women like me.
Where the walls glisten from the tears shed as others like yourself tried to steal our cloud's glory.
But like this cloud, though we look soft and billowy, we are steel, cursing forth our thunder and glaring bolts of lightning to protect ourselves and our own.

My cloud is high now, but it has had its lows.
Where were you when others avoided and mocked us as nothing more than valley fog?
When the view consisted of puddles of want and winds of despair?
Did you once offer me a seat on your cloud?
Did you give me a hand up? Or were you too busy looking down on me?

So excuse me if I block your sun, ruin your picnic, cancel your flight.
But I will never ignore you.
Come closer and I will whisper a message in your ear:
HEY, YOU, GET OFF OF MY CLOUD!!!!

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

Baggage

Some people wear baggage like a hat in church,
Still others could conceal it through a customs search!
Me? It depends on the mood that I'm in,
My frame may be thick, but my skin's super thin.

As a child, dysfunction was all that I knew.
Violence and alcohol increased as I grew
And the things that I heard and the things that I viewed,
I packed them all up with my clothes and I shooed.

And when I would meet someone, I'd try to disguise
That baggage as noticeable as my big giant thighs.
"You're beautiful," he'd say, but I knew the truth.
I'm fat and I'm worthless, and I've got the proof.

Locked deep in my psyche, but not deep enough,
Some poisonous, invisible gas out would puff.
And heaven forbid he got an erection!
My baggage was foolproof as a form of protection!

If he seemed too perfect on any given date,
My baggage would whisper, "belittle, berate!"
And so I would treat him like a much lower class
Then turn and retreat with my oversized ass.

But one day I waddled into a cafe
So weighed down with baggage every step of the way
That I knew it was time to this load jettison
So I dropped to my knees and prayed, "Help me! Amen."

The baggage still visits me now and again,
And I have to remind it we're no longer friends
I'm married and he loves me whatever my girth,
Reminding me daily I'm the fairest on earth!!!

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

Color and Diversity

The world's grey. Slowly, methodically,
Feathers from colorful birds have been burned.
Sheep in a fog on a snowy mountain.
One man thought uniformity equaled
Superiority, ugly furor.
Their ashes floated down all around us
There's no color left in this sooty world.
Beauty's palette swirled with color beckons.
Diversity screams for a slight foothold.
The heart just whithers in colorless worlds.


APRIL 23, 2016

Word count 62

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

The Daisy

In my bed.
Winter blahs.
Colorless ground
Icy jaws.

I poke my head
Timidly forth.
I see some green
I feel some warmth.

I stretch my tendrils
Toward the sky.
Spindly spikes
Reaching high.

Slowly my body
Unclenches, unfurls
Displaying a wonder
Color and curls.

I dance in the breeze
In joyous abandon
I bow and I spin
Appearing quite random.

But when I pause
In the sunshine of life
I see the most wondrous
Sight of my life.

Right here, in my bed,
While I flitted, oblivious,
Was done a miracle
Not usually privy us.

For far as I looked
To my left and my right
My front and my back
In day and in night.

Fields of color
Pastel, neon, bright.
All posing and twisting
To find the best light.

I bow to their beauty
They bow back in kind
Diversity fills
My sight and my mind.

Some neighbors are dark
Some shorter, some tall
Some petals reach up
Some bend, swoop and fall.

Some dropped by a bird,
Some planted with love,
But all finding life
From the Source up above.

I'm thankful for color
In every direction.
I'm thankful for difference
Not boring reflection.

Joyful integration.
But more work ahead.
My neighbors and I
Hope to make our bed spread!

So take it from me
The humblest of flower
In difference is strength,
A rainbow has power!

Love is the key;
With light always sow.
And life will be fruitful,
Your kingdom will grow.





2nd place in theme #7 colors, judged  1/28/2016

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

How Time Stole My Body

I am old. Old I am.
And frankly I don't give a damn.
I take bright pills for all my ills
And little rugrats call me gram.

Teeth are gone. Gone are they.
Can't chew my food the normal way.
I glue some in to fill my grin
I'm lucky if they stay all day!

I am vexed! Vexed am I!
And now I'm going to tell you why
I fall asleep in time to leap
And to the porcelain pony fly!

I am slow. Slow I am.
In stores I cause a traffic jam.
Joints go crack, can't bend my back
I failed my walker drive exam!

But say the word. The word just say.
And you and I can spend the day!
Let's eat prunes and sing some tunes
Then cuddle with my friend, Ben Gay!

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

My Heart Is Full

The tears of a lifetime
I have saved in my heart
Each chamber a well
Calmly doing its part.

Some tears are so happy
First kiss, wedding, births
Those tears feel lighter
Gravity less than earth’s.

They are clear and they sparkle
A biographical snow globe
I swim in their light
In a crystal wardrobe.

The sad tears, they scare me
Putrid, thick, rank and dark
They make my heart heavy
Churning, feeling no spark.

I dare not revisit
These roots, abject anguish
For they swallow my soul
And in pain simply languish.

Some tears are empty
Having leaked out at times
When I felt all alone
Life devoid of all rhymes.

These tears were in secret
Things so desolate and hollow
Yet reflect strength to resist
Ending life with a swallow.

So my heart, then, is full
Not of blood, veins and such
But a lifetime lived hard,
Memories that tears touch.


September 9, 2019

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way To the John LOL

A funny thing happened on the way to the john,
I rounded a bend and there sat my young son
Who whined and fussed to be picked up and nursed
So I had to oblige though I quietly cursed.

I continued my quest for some bladder relief
Whilst feeding my baby, supreme mother and chief
When I passed the front door, boob out, zipper down
And there stood our pastor, with an uncomfortable frown.

I tucked and I zipped, then red-faced I said, “Hi.”
He said, “I just stopped for your donated pie.”
Baby under one arm, I retrieved the said pie
And proudly returned with baked good held up high.

But the baby was squirmy and sun in my eyes
So I tripped on the dog, who is almost my size
And that’s when I found out that cherry pie flies
Right into the face of the good Reverend Wise.

Which was not a bad thing, and I do not jest
Because my little boy had pulled out my breast!
And my bladder gave up, the poor little fellow,
As I landed and sat in a puddle of yellow!

So I never did make it to the bathroom that trip
And I had to make up to our poor puppy Skip.
My son, just like always, got his milk and his way
And my husband and I became Jewish that day!

Details | Cindi Rockwell Poem

The Race

Pain is not a garment changed with whims of a fashion style
Its heavy, razor edges are both permanent and vile
A torture made of illness, loss, of injury, regret
That churns and burns and rips the flesh til bloody, sticky, wet.

The greatest fighters find the strength to see beyond distress
With twisted frames they stagger on, weak battle cries of "yes"
When all their body wants to say is "Quit! Give Up! Give in!"
But heroes answer back and use the strength that lies within.

Shadows cannot appear unless there is a source of light.
Victories only come when we have made it through the fight.
Sometimes the winner doesn't wear a laurel on his head,
The greatest warriors show strength by climbing out of bed.

To win the race with perfect legs is naught of exception 
But just to vie at a crawl deserves a knight's reception.