Wednesday, 26 April 2017

Invisible Visible

 A little while ago I watched a video of Prince Harry discussing mental health and the invisible wounds we carry in our hearts. That coupled with my own experiences, inspired this new poem. 

Invisible Visible

I wear these hidden wounds
Like battle scars across my chest.
Emblazoned with a smile,
Punctuated with dry tears
    You can't see.

My heart is blistered,
Burned by the every day
Ordinary happenings;
Things you'd never get
    And can't feel.

All those events of
Long ago and yesterday
Replay like old records;
Played by a broken needle
    You can't fix.

I'm weary and aching
From holding it all together,
From picking up the pieces
Of this lonely broken soul
    I can't put back together


Bleeding hearts are bleeding
Nonetheless. Wounded minds
Broken by the ordinary...
And the extraordinary;
    Can be mended.
    Can be lifted.
If only I could let you in.

By: T.J. Ruberto (c) 2017

Monday, 24 April 2017

RESHARE: What I'd Miss - A Simple Reminder When I needed it most.

I wrote this one AGES ago, but revisited it recently to make some minor edits and repost it.
In making those grammatical edits I was reminded of how often I read this poem in my darkest hours.
Some of you may know (others most definitely do not), but there was a period of my life when things were looking pretty grim and I wasn't sure I could go on. 
Although I didn't realize it at the time, this poem kept me grounded and reminded me why I needed to hold on; even for just one more day.

I Can't Go Yet

I will miss the smell of my daughter’s hair,

    And the way she always smells like washing powder and little girl fun.

I will miss my son's squeezes,
    And the way he curls in my lap and wraps his arms around my neck like he'll never let me go. 

I will miss the feel of cold cotton sheets
    When I climb in to bed and the way the wind blows the curtains in the bedroom. 

I will miss the creek of the hardwood floors in the hall
     And the sound of closing doors.

I will miss hearing my children  
    Call out 'Mommy' and the way they pout when they start to cry. 

I will miss the taste of peanut butter
    And the way it sticks to the roof of my mouth.

I will miss hearing the birds sing
    And the feel of wet grass under my feet. 

I will miss the way the rain sounds on my roof
    And the way it trickles down the spout. 

I will miss driving in the car to the beach
    And the sound of bass coming through my car speakers.

I will miss the smell of clean laundry and the way my mum irons clothes. 
    My grandma’s cooking and the salty crackling on her roast pork. 

I will miss putting words together to make sentences
    And sentences together to make stories. 

I will miss the clicking of my keyboard
    And the chug chug of my printer. 

I will miss the smell of play-dough
    And of crayons, glue, and finger paint.

I will miss singing to my babies and making songs up as we go. 
    I will miss answering a hundred thousand questions everyday;
I will miss being a mommy.

I will even miss grocery shopping
    And the rush to get the groceries home.
I will miss banana popsicles, chocolate chips,
    fresh strawberries with cream, and banana sandwiches.

I will miss Christmas and birthdays, cake and champagne. 

I will miss reading,
    And words on a page that pull me to new heights. 

I will miss my mum and all the love that she gives.
     I will miss the smell of her perfume.

I will miss my dad and his jokes, his tractors, and his bald head. 
     I will miss my brother and my sister.

I will miss my husband and the way he says he loves me loads
    And rubs my head when I need him most.

I will miss feeling loved.
I will miss being touched.

But mostly, I will miss feeling small in such a great big world.

By T.J. Ruberto (c) 2017

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

Crowded Alone

You make me feel completely discombobulated;

Like I'm something I am 

    most definitely not. 

Around you I feel frigid, chilled, ice cold to the bone. 

But clearly this sweat 

    tells me I'm hot. 

With you in this room I feel confined and contained;

Like I'm a prisoner

    with something to hide. 

Sitting near you makes my stomach lurch nauseated;

Like I'm riding the rails,

    yet I'm not on a ride. 

Your eyes make me question my personal identity;

Who I thought I was, and am, are

    no longer set in stone. 

Standing in this crowded room I feel desolate;

Like a life boat cast out to sea,

    utterly and completely alone. 

You are my nemesis disguised as my devoted ally;

Like a monster masked by

    the face of a friend. 

You offer new beginnings, olive branches, and cures,

But all you truly dish out is a 

    shortcut to the end. 

By: T.J. Ruberto (c) 2017 

Monday, 10 April 2017

Call Out

* A quick little something I wrote while cruising along the 401 with my hubby today.  This one will need a bit of fine tuning, I think. Feel free to leave a comment; I'd love to hear your thoughts. 

Call Out 

Whisper to me 

    through the noise.

Across the distance

   send your voice. 

Call out to me 

    and sing me home. 

You've won my heart 

    It's yours alone. 


You are my shade

    and my summer sun,

You're my grown up sadness

    And my childhood fun. 

You bring me back

    when I drift away. 

Your voice calls to me

    reminds me to stay. 

Whisper to me 

    through the noise.

Across the distance

   send your voice. 

By: T.J Ruberto (c) 2017