March into the Future
She left empty handed
No check book
She left behind a lifetime of suffering
and opened herself up to a new world
No more bloody altercations
No more bruises that reached down
deeper that their physical pain
Now if she could put the past far
enough behind as well
She feared the memories would haunt her
but she persisted
she needed to persist
despite the old ghosts that clung on so tight
Her first breath of fresh air in more years
than she could recall
Thunder rumbled off in the distance
as she pulled her shoulders back
stood tall and marched into the future
On the Shelf
I sit here and wait
for someone to come along,
and snatch me up.
like free goodies to sample
at a grocery store display.
The tasty tempting morsels
that everybody wants to try.
Who will grab this delectable
treat and claim me for their own?
I’ve sat on the shelf for far too
long and fear that I may grow stale,
forgotten and out of date,
pushed to the back of the stacks.
So, won’t you please come
and get me while I last?
Ann Christine Tabaka is a nominee for the 2017 Pushcart Prize in Poetry. She lives in Delaware, USA. She is a published poet and artist. She loves gardening and cooking, and lives with her husband and two cats. Her most recent credits are Page & Spine, The Paragon Journal, The Literary Hatchet, The Stray Branch, Trigger Fish Critical Review; Foliate Oak Review, The Metaworker, Raven Cage Ezine, RavensPerch, Anapest Journal, Mused, Apricity Magazine, Longshot Island, The Write Launch, The Stray Branch, Advaitam Speaks Literary Journal, Ann Arbor Review.