Therese Garcia 

Duarte, CA, USA

I wrote young, but never poetry. I am a single mother of four, 24 to 6 years. Multi-careered--from waitress to radiology. My longest, most significant career was as a truck driver--awarding me patience, tenacity, gear changing, goals and writing. A defense of breaking ground, some articles have been published. I wrote one pro in 1995. Since my Mother's death the poetic flow has been non-stop. I've written and perform readings of my soon to be published, "Tributaries of Truth," poetry series. I've walked the talk. Life is a marvelous adventure, good and bad. Poetic format is a clear celebration of life. Beauty, sadness, humor, truth, peace, a blessing to humanity.

Tributaries of Truth

The truth is within us, provides us the boat. 
Variable individuals, determining our float. 

We sink or we swim, determined in our choices. 
Choice is the keyword, not forgetting inner voices. 

We tread and we dread, our futures with short view, 
Appropriate measures, truth, honesty in choose. 

Esteem is an issue for those who think grand. 
Esteem is an issue, for non-takers of stand. 

The float we maintain through these tributaries of life, 
The truth, no matter choices, will surface, end strife. 

However, life's journey, our view from above, 
Determined, predestination, our integrity and love.

De Nial

Denial we put in a mirror, it go crack. 
De face of de liar, career full of crap. 

Denial it always goes round from de start. 
Denial goes well for awhile, from start. 

But just like all things, we live in dis life, 
Denial it go round, to make great big strife. 

Denial gets deeper, de root do grow too. 
Denial will catch-up, true liar, it do. 

De wise man who has a head on his shoulders, 
Had better learn, "stop," his crimes do get bolder. 

In time dis denial, with root from de liar, 
De lies de get deeper, dis pile gets higher. 

De one who is married to de liar, denial, 
Divorce is de best way de root dis denial. 

De best way to void all dis denial mess, 
Be watchin de liars, de ones who won't fess.

The Write

I fear this gift, I've since discovered 
Will leave my hand, I lose recover 

But when I sit, and concentrate 
The flow returns, this destined fate 

The time may come, I lose my sight 
To relay the message, of, "rights," and "mights" 

And if that day should come to end 
New gifts of life, will sure begin 

Each change, each phase, of life I enter 
Right to the limit, the lord does enter 

I cannot fuss, the loss this gift 
The time, its use may be too swift 

So while I can, I will do write 
How long it lasts, termed other might.