Repressing a Childhood



Repressing Childhood

Chasing pastels trying to make the most of today before it slips into yesterday. Darkness is riding my ass. One less day becomes one less day wanting to remember the names of a lovely pastel. And one more night, bearing its shadows is one less night of subduing shadows. Then, as night finally slips into yesterday, and dawn makes her debut into a palette of pastels I can live with, I press them one by one in between the pages of my journal.

the unconscious mind
dried flowers


©2017 All Rights Reserved – Sheri L. Prielipp-Falzone


Reflections: A Mother’s Journal

The sights and sounds of spring always bring to my mind mothers and children. And as the days led up to Mother’s Day, my daily journal reflected on my childhood, my mother, my childhood and being a mother too.


as they grew
the Lord took her hand
she blossomed too


tangled roots
buried in childhood
tripping me


how the grow
lilies of the field
yellow bus


barbed wire
her spoken prayers
the sparrow


a tether
between young and old
mother’s will


how are you
she hears something else
my mother


my first nurse
without a degree
mother’s love


wiped with
a downy feather
mother’s tear

left behind
echoes of their song
empty nest

The rooftop
Singing her prayers
The sparrow


used to be
silence was golden
empty nest


vibrant hues
a floral bouquet
mother’s pride

Mother's Day