I'm Not Done Yet

Forty once seemed so darn old

But here I am, feeling so young and bold

Careers made, children nearly grown

Dreams fulfilled, memories sown

Society tells me I’m a middle-aged soul

When in my heart, I’m still youthful and whole

My husband still dazzles me with his gentle touch

Much like he did at my proms and such

My interests haven’t really changed; I still like to run and play

How can it be that my youth can’t stay?

The lines of my face are coming, I know

So I’ve begun to moisturize, so that they might not show

Fighting age with Zumba and weights

Mind over matter when saying “No” to breads and cakes

I still have people to see and places to go

Dreams aren't quenched, many gardens not hoed.

Yes, I know in the end, the victor will be my age

But for now, this girl’s claiming youth as her sage

Where I'm From

I am from squashing May Pops,
From catching catfish at Pawpaw’s Talladega lakehouse
And Winnie the Pooh

I am from the large home on the hill,
hidden by looming magnolia trees
I am from Sunday tuna fish sandwiches
And volunteering at soup kitchens,
From my southern Mamaw and northern Grandpa

I am from the work until you drop
And driving like a maniac
From “don’t watch the boob tube,”
But “be home by eleven”
I am from speaking in tongues to Hail Mary
I’m from Long Island, New York, bagels, and steaming hot coneys
From the riding to Trade Day on early Saturday mornings,
While perched behind my dad on his motorcycle
And the picking of dandelions in my front yard

I am from love notes, hidden in an old handbag,
Wrapped loosely with a worn pink ribbon
I once wore in my long brown hair
I am from a blend of Southern and Northern ideals and traditions
Both relished and forever embraced

Melissa Shields, 2011
*Inspired by George Ella Lyon's Poem - "Where I'm From"

The Twelve Months that Shape Us

Brisk winds sweep leafless trees, edged with the night’s snowfall
A new beginning, resolutions to be made

Lacy red hearts adorn shop windows
And tasty small chocolates are enveloped in brightly wrapped boxes

Signs of new growth begin to emerge, green and vibrant
As winter winds give way to warmer breezes

Welcome rain hugs cool earth, eliciting
Beautiful buds and floral landscapes

Full blooms, warmer temperatures
Forgotten coats, revived shorts and swimsuits

No more bells, no more books
Time for rest and sunny beaches

Pop! Bang! Celebrations of America’s rights fill dark evening skies with
Booming displays of lights, colors, and sounds

Oppressive heat looms as the unforgiving sun beats down
Parents pack department stores in search of shiny new clothes and school supplies

Ever so slowly, leaves begin browning, colors begin fading
Friday night lights welcome anxious crowds adorned in their favorite team’s color

Orange pumpkins greet visitors on doorsteps
As masked children search for their favorite sweet delights

Thankful for the graciousness of others
Plump brown turkeys and dressing fill festive family tables

Explosions of reds, greens, and silver emerge at every stop
Tall glittering trees beckon families to fellowship

Each year brings expectations of both things familiar and unknown
But remind us all that these experiences shape who we have yet to become

Wife to Husband (Inspired by Langston Hughes's Poem, "Mother to Son")

Well, honey, I'll tell you:

Life with you is a Sunday afternoon drive.

There have been endless blue skies,

long talks, lots of laughs,

shared dreams,

and wishes fulfilled.

Smooth ride.

Now, there have been bumps in the road

and close calls.

There have been occasional potholes

and sudden storms.

But we kept driving nonetheless -

our eyes fixed on the road up ahead,

treasuring each milestone,

Perseverance.

There have been pit stops.

We've refueled along the way.

We've even added two passengers

with bright smiles and pink church dresses.

Complete.

Our destination

remains to be seen.

But with you as the driver,

I feel hope, I feel anticipation, I feel contentment -

I feel love.

Life with you truly  is a Sunday afternoon drive.

2002

Two Hearts (Draft)

Two pure hearts imploring Love,
      Correction,
      Guidance,
      Truth.

Responsibilities of a mother.

Dreams yet realized
Prayers yet answered
As tiny moments slip away and children grow.

Time refuses to wait for her
As she immerses herself in a memories that she will not and
cannot
Forget.

A smile, a laugh, a tear. 
Looking upon angelic sleeping forms
And wondering,
     Will they stray?
     Will they falter?
    
As these young hearts leave the haven of a mother's arms,
hope and wonder plant their seeds. 

1997

Shades of Pink (Color Poem Revisited)

Carmine Sunday dresses
Ruby cheeks and cherry smiles
Innocence and youth

Prom gown garnished with a scarlet carnation
"Don't stay out too late!"
Crimson woman

Vermillion flowers, a trailing bow
Making way to a man of God
       and a man in love
Fuschsia devotion embellished in passion


Swollen flushed belly
Carrying a tiny pink form
Shouts of hot pain
Glorious crying gift

Nursery, tiny socks, small moments
Smells of infancy
A pastel room
Little rosy girls

Strawberry blond hair
Tea parties, lipstick, first dates
A mother's blushing pride
Growing up too fast

Pallid, needing color
Aged
Shocking coral cheeks, longing  for
      the colors of youth

2002

The Orange Canvas (A Nocturne)

The orange canvas caresses the canyon
      as milky clouds fade into oblivion

The soft winds serenade the warm
     blackberries asleep on their thicket
and the fragrant junipers
     sprawl lazily on their earthen bed

The raspy raven welcomes the
    approaching nightfall
as the placid pool eagerly awaits
    the thirsty visitors of  the night

2009