He no longer
drops his head
on the steering wheel
and sighs as his tears
sogs his Big Mac
for these Friday
trade-the-kid
specials
are now as routine
as the teen
at the takeout
who knows
without asking
that he needs
four catsup packs
to make it
through the fries
and onto his coke
his ex-wife
no longer looking
over her shoulder
as they drive off
his kid’s head down
already absorbed
into his Mac tablet
without so much
as a gif good bye
Archives
Born with a Tarnished Spoon
SO proud to announce the launch of my 1930’s historical fiction novel Born with a Tarnished Spoon.
Cassie Clark, daughter of a socialite mother and a lumber baron father, was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but when the Great Depression hits the Midwest it changes the fortunes of both rich and poor. Trying to keep their affluent lifestyle, Jonathan Clark makes difficult business decisions, but the results directly affect his family-leaving Cassie to pay the highest price. When Cassie’s father reaches out to a trusted advisor, he becomes an unwitting player in the Chicago underworld where rum and money flows. Even children become commodities and are bought and sold. Wealthy patrons who want a child for love or cheap labor are willing to pay thousands on the black market Baby Road. But if there is a road that takes a person from the pain that follows them, Cassie isn’t on it. Her path takes her far away from home, and loneliness only adds to her emotional baggage. Alone to solve her problems, she finds strength in her own abilities and develops new definitions for friends and family. Recreating herself, Cassie also wants a man to love the woman she has become. But will anyone overlook her tainted past? Born with a Tarnished Spoon is a tapestry of life and loss in the 1930’s.
https://www.amazon.com/Born-Tarnished-Spoon-Patricia-Hawkenson/dp/1977207995/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?
Finding Solace
Roses were the first
to arrive
and they held
their blush
high and hopeful
until the nurse
pushed them aside
finding room
for daisies, daffodils,
and lupines
till the darkest corners
filled with scents
and sniffles
intermingled
in prayer
yet she drifted
too far away
to smell
or hear
and later
when the room darkened
and our shuffling feet
found what path
they could
we took only
the flowers
with us.
4/9/2015 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Pillow Talk
Pillow Talk
I can’t get the job
without experience
and there’s no escape
when I lie
awake
daydreaming
of putting my feet
up in that corner
office
till I call myself
insane
that old catch 22
won’t give me
rest
conflicting
always fighting
the contradictory rules
to move to the white
or to the black squares
to tip the queen
with an evil grin
only to have
a puny pawn
come into play
when I don’t need him
to justify and conceal
my abuse
of power
so I might close
that loophole
by trying to get out
of work
no
it isn’t really
crazy.
4/7/2015 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Seeing Double on This Side of the Skyy
Seeing Double on This Side of the Skyy
Our shopping cart
has become
our walker
as the clouds
that cover us
get wispy,
and all our
yearnings
are falling
through,
so to perk up
that lonely meat,
we’ll need
a good
bottle of vodka.
11/14/2012 Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Stern Mooring
*Winner of a Beautiful Bloom Award from Poetic Bloomings!
Stern Mooring
I wanted
to feel the ground
solid beneath my feet
to know there was a wall
formidable, unwavering,
that could barricade me
in love.
But I felt
the slippery rocks
that rose from troubled waters
pulling me by the ankles
into the shocking cold
where my tender forehead
eager for a goodnight kiss
softly upon my brow
waited
and waited
till the distant
ebb and flow
of time
forgot what
I had wanted.
Tribute to the children who lost their fathers to the icy cold of Lake Superior when the Edmund Fitzgerald sank on November 10, 1975.
See video of the Edmund Fitzgerald: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hgI8bta-7aw
6/03/2012 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Dandelions
Dandelions
Summer offers
her warming light
so playful children
can butter their chins.
Finally going to seed
it takes only a puff of air
to tear them limb from limb
and send them flying.
Each little fluff
flies to a tender place
that welcomes it
and lets it grow.
And dandelions, too,
want nothing more
than the wind to lift them
and carry them home.
11/7/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Wait for It
Wait for It
Once thought weak,
limp and yielding,
then rudely shoved
to a forgotten place
in the back,
an innocent,
victimized,
festering anger
retaliates
by growing strong,
that pungent odor
your just desserts
when Jello
goes bad.
8/17/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – Amalagamation
Amalgamation
It started small
just one dish left on the counter
one suitcase sitting by the sofa
one newspaper strewn on the carpet
when eyelids were down
from the depression
of their loss
that started the pile
overwhelming their soul
leaving them buried
in their possessions
till only a path
through the mountain of stuff
allowed a sliver of hope
to escape
until the hoarder
closed their door.
8/14/2011 – Patricia A. Hawkenson’s Reflections – When Clouds Fail
(Inspiration from: Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella – My Own Little Corner)
When Clouds Fail
On the wings of my fancy
I can fly anywhere
and the world will
open its arms to me.
In my dreams I am floating
though the gossamer clouds
and the bird’s wings
flutter against my own.
My gauzy ribbons flowing
have braided as I twirl
and I cry out
frightened as I fall down.
‘Cause failing clouds can’t hold me
as I tumble to earth
and the bird’s squawks
keep ringing within my ear.
I’m hoping you will catch me
if I die in my sleep.
Will you hold me
more tenderly than soft clouds?