For My Cowgirl

Another repost poem. Happy birthday, Pencil Princess!

The picture on the post is Lilli wearing my dad’s old straw cowboy hat.


Before I had a girl,
I thought she’d steal my husband’s heart.
I was scared of sharing,
Expecting battle from the start.

What I didn’t know
Is that she stole my heart instead.
I wanted Dad to heap
Love and kisses on her head.

My daughter is my strength.
She’s taught me more than I could teach.
She’s my tough defender
When I’m sick or sad or weak.

She’s my will, she’s my power.
She’s my endless, eternal drive.
She’s the reason I get up.
She’s the reason I’m still alive.

Before I had a girl,
I didn’t understand
How much I’d love another girl.
I’m her biggest fan.


Love you, Cowgirl.

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Sister

This is a repost of a poem for my daughter on her birthday tomorrow!
Happy 15, baby!


I wish I had a sister.
I have two of my own.
But they were always busy.
I was growing up alone.

I wish I had a sister
Who took the time to teach
How to love myself,
How to aim beyond my reach.

Or even how to brush my hair,
Set makeup on my cheek.
I wish I had a sister
Not a rival, so to speak.

I wish I had a sister.
One that loved being my friend.
I wish I had a sister.
Someone to count on ’til the end.

Someone to value me.
Someone to hold me close.
Someone to pull me up and in.
Someone who let their feelings show.

A woman to show the way.
A friend to hold my hand.
A person who deeply cared.
Someone to understand.

I never had a sister
Until I finally went through birth.
My daughter is all I could ever want,
Best sister on this earth.

Patched-up Monster

Run my fingers along these stitches
My slick, sick skin in pale, pink patches
Red scars, dark dreams and seams
Snagged-up tissue in small light catches

If I’m a patched-up monster
Then what does that make you?
You are my creator
Working in sin and sinew

I acknowledge my birth and life
But I wish you wouldn’t have bothered
Especially when you hate
That which you have fathered

I pity us, this reckless wreck
Wreaking wrong, prescribing pain
Spent my life to break your neck
On the hope of a rope in ending insane

You meant to make me perfect
But don’t know what you’re doing
You played around with delicate parts
Left this bloody monster in ruin

I survive, pieced from scraps
Forgotten flesh upon the floor
You die of loneliness
But I live to rise once more

Blank Page

When the world sharpens me to a
fighting, biting, writing point
.
You are the velvet, toothy paper on which I wrestle.

The soft place that stores my hurt and heart.

I’m sorry.
Thank you.

You never tear.
Even with my harsh words and unrestrained pain.

Your blank page is a fluffy-white cloud of kindness and medicine.

Won’t You Be My…Father?

Did I not mention that I’ve seen Won’t You Be My Neighbor? Gah! I saw it last Tuesday.

I read or someone mentioned that they cried when the trolley hit the tracks. Well, I cried during the open sequence. When I heard Mr. Rogers friendly voice sing out the theme song, I died.

I love this movie. I was so very moved by the story. Mr. Rogers was an ordained Presbyterian minister. He lived every bit of a Christian life and touched so many lives doing so. He was allowed to follow his heart, passion and creativity. His son described him as the second Christ. LOL Hard living with Jesus for a father. LOL

What a wonderful man Mr. Rogers was. I wish he was my father. Or that my father could have been like him. Or just to be his friend and neighbor would have been enough. I was always calmed and enthralled by the show Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. I love that our world allowed a show like this to exist, even for a short time.

There is goodness in the world. Mr. Rogers was proof.


“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”–Fred Rogers

Love Letter

A note I wrote  my hubby for our anniversary a few years ago (sensual, not sexual):

To Guy:

I love to touch you in the morning
Our bodies soft and warm from the blankets
I run my fingers over your chest and jaw
I stare at your round, red lips
You are beautiful
I am so thankful for your body and heart
Which save me over and over from desperate loneliness and desire
I love you
You are special
Thank you for saving me
I thank God your mine
Happy Anniversary #16

Love, Martha


I am lucky to have known love so completely. Unconditionally. So faithfully. I don’t take it for granted. Coming up on 20 years!


If I were to live a thousand years,
I would belong to you for all of them.
If I were to live a thousand lives,
I would want to make you mine in each one.

–Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dye

Model Behavior

gangly legs dangle
hanging at strange angles
new-fangled angels
spangled and strangled
littered with bangles
privileged with physical advantage
yet starving for life without baggage
damaged and ravaged
mangled and managed
with makeshift bandages
wrangle your courage
disentangle this bondage
dissolve this marriage
to branded, handled beauty

Long Live Love

Long-lived love is like–
Marriage is like–
Coming home to a small beach shack.

I built it.
With my hands, skills and know-how.
Outta stuff I had.

Most people can’t rough it.
It isn’t pretty to look at.
But it’s comfortable. It has everything I need.

I always wanted to live on the beach.
I am proud to live here.
I wouldn’t live anywhere but this place.

And when the storm hits?
We may have to pick up the pieces.
But. We’re gonna be here when it’s over and we know how to build.


The beach is where you can see the edge of the world.

Your Face Here

Your face goes here.
Doing what you fear.
Healing an injured ear.
Wiping every tear.
Making the most of years.
Keeping faith near.
Sweeping the path clear.
Changing this whole sphere.
Shouting for the back to hear.
Ready for God to appear.

Your face goes here.

martha jesus


Galatians 2:20 NIV

20 I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me…

Dark Cave Haikus

Hatred without cause
Is not protected under
The Constitution


There is no such thing
As passive hate. Apathy
Has no cause to act.


Love cannot exist
Where light does not reach in us
Rescued from the cave


Hope can be rescued
From deep inside this dark well
Love is the strong rope


Where a life is found
Brave beats furious to save
Scraps of decency


Rains may flood and drown
But humans will still reach through
The dark clouds for sun


Swim through this mountain
Dive deep for love, buoy life
Brave this river, Boy


Wipe my tears and cuts.
Dry my hands and feet. Set firm
Life upon this rock.


I wait in the dark
For splashes from brave heroes
I will not despair


Can I be found deep?
I will wait for news and sleep.
Hope is what I keep.


Deep earth womb of rock
Traumatic birth of thirteen
Life will rise through pain