doesn’t play well with others

My first memory is from preschool. It was play time and everyone went off to their own little worlds accompanied by their friends, but I was left alone. No one wanted to play with me. I had no friends. I remember deciding that I needed to offer them something so that I would be a desirable playmate. So I pulled out my favorite Barbie doll–the standard blonde bombshell that you would expect, but she had unusual eyes. They were violet with a painted twinkle. I took her around the room and showed her off with all the subtlety a four year old has…gasping and remarking how pretty she was. I even dropped her at one point, as if her beautiful eyes were just too much. But they all saw the charade for what it was…a desperate cry for attention and it alienated me even further. I was laughed at and made fun of for wanting to fit in. I think from that point on I decided that I was the one who didn’t WANT to fit in, so that it could be my choice and I empowered myself with that distinction. I’m not naive… I know what really happened. But these days I am more preoccupied with the original problem.

Why didn’t anyone want to play with me? Why did no one like me?

Today I know exactly why people don’t like me. I am selfish, competitive, and arrogant. I am a lot of other things too…a lot of good things. But those three things are what turn people off about me. Those are the three things I learned how to be when everyone shut me out. Those things have become my shield, sword and armor. But why originally? What about that little girl who just wanted to be liked and played with? What did people see in her that was so bad?

With all that said… I wrote a poem. It is fitting that it is about dandelions, because they are pests. Weeds. Undesirable. But I never saw them that way. I always played with them and my father got pissed because ‘they’ll be everywhere now!’

Poor dandelions… Poor Nicole…

I am dandelion fluff
I am a thousand tiny dancers
Riding the breeze to a
ballroom in the sky
Dainty, delicate and daring
I am ready to fly
I shouldn’t be touched
I am a small, white, wild thing
Effortless and ephemeral
I’ll die on new horizons
and bloom forever


a little poetry after supper

So I’ve tried to be a blogger and a poet all over the internet for years and years. I fear that if I ever become famous those little pieces of me that I can’t recall the passwords to edit will be found and exposed to all. So it isn’t really a good idea for me to open up yet another venue and showcase more poetry here.

But I’m gonna anyway.

Here are the handful of poems I’ve developed with the help and support of a fabulous group of women.


I see candles without their flames
and I feel badly for them.
They’re not sexy.
They’re not even alive.
Just wax pillars of missed opportunities,
but I’m drawn to them
like a magnet.

Does that make us the same?

I spiral.
I need to light them. Us.
But nothing burns forever,
and so we both wait for the
Right time…



it’s shaped like a bone
not the real thing
not the stuff of life and being
a re-imagination. whimsy.

it’s thin and small
lacks structure and substance
but there’s none of that
in a memory.


Generic for feeling
Take one for every failure

Not Nikki

They were Nicole
Both Nicole M.
Nicole M. who liked music
and art and outer space
Long hair
Big hearts and imaginations
Coincidental twins
Loved for being the same
Until she had to be different

They were Nikki and Coley
One good at English,
the other at math
One shy and one daring
Secretly competing
Learning how to be the only
Nicole M.
And then she moved away,
and they were
Too late and too soon