Poetry by Tammy
All works © Copyright 1997-1998 by Tammy Sexton.  All rights reserved.

So It Comes Naturally

Stick-up notes and "while you were out" slips scribbled with I love yous
Forget-Me-Not cards in envelopes that do not match
A candle with the scent of patchouli
All the things we cherish.

Splashing water at one another on a rainy night
Chewing on a straw at the pizza place
Blowing a kiss through the telephone line
Unacknowledged tokens of our love.

Only For You

Let me rest my head on
your shoulder, if you would
Just let your lips
graze my forhead, please.

My window is open--
Only for you.

You used to surprise me
in the middle of the day.
Why won't you call?
Sometimes I feel your hand
on my shoulder,
turn my head...you're not there.

My hand, I reach out--
Only for you.

Do you still think of me
in the quiet of the day?
Please say, "I do."
and if it's not the truth--
I'll belive it anyway.

Award WinnerAfraid (Won editor's choice award from the National Library of Poetry) 

The Butterfly, unpretentious,
bumped into her Flower.
But the Sun fell from it's bed.
The rest is a mystery,
it will be their destiny.

Thursday Afternoon (Published Work - 1998)

Sitting here in blue jeans
the bottoms slightly turned up.
My black patent boots
keeping time as they rest
on the desk.

It's Thursday afternoon.
The Proclaimers sing
about walking five-hundred miles.
I think to myself, that's a
mightly long walk.

Ode to Sanity

Go on -- throw your books
they feel like hooks, scraping at my brain.
And those serious looks
they took away my sanity.
For four Januarys to May
and five Septembers to December
I've battled plague of the mind.
Now I have lost it -- completely.
I have become tranquilly numb to
every piece of print in my face.
It has to end, before I send
the invitations.
The Brain Malfunctions, while the Heart
risks Computations.
I'm no longer a catalyst to anything.

"Don't Cry", They Say (Published Work - 1998)
In loving memory of a special friend, Jason Howard Gibson,
(Septmeber 18, 1975 -- March 6, 1998)

Sometimes, when nothing goes right,
when I'm left all alone
or when I can ALMOST reach the one I love . . .
I cry.

Sometimes, when I look at childhood photos,
when it's much too quiet
or when I feel confused . . .
I cry.

And sometimes, when I listen to the Blues,
when I go to the park
or when I hear a bird sing . . .
I cry.

I cry when the world is cold . . .
because the tears are warm.

A Struggle

It's boiling in the pit of me.
What is it? I don't really know.
Fear, anger, ignorance or pain,
All unsettle feelings.
Eating away, gnawing at my veins,
Pounding in my brains.
Cutting into my waist,
Grinding in my teeth.
Now it's pouring from my eyes,
Clinching my fists, and
Biting at my knuckles,
Squeezing both wrists.
It is ugly like a cold sore.
Enough tears, but not enough
to wash me to the shore.

The Locket

This locket that I wear, but now hold in my hand
Contains tiny pictures of a woman and a man.
They brought me into this world together.
That's how I thought they would remain forever.

With a snap the piece closes.
Now they're rubbing noses.

Even though they are apart,
I can always keep them
Close to my Heart.

Almost, Good Enough, Excellent
by Tammy Sexton

     I remember when I was a kid Daddy wanted me to play basketball.   After school we could be found under the goal practicing a hook shot, a free throw (that was my specialty) and the slam dunk -- well, that was Dad's specialty.  I think he was destined to turn me into a ball player.  No matter how many times I missed a shot, he came back with that same phrase we have heard over and over sometime in life, "try and try again".  Sometimes, okay most of the time, I missed, but he always replied, "Almost Tammy.  Almost."  And we didn't stop until I hit one.
     Later in my life I realized how much those words mean.  No matter how hard I tried, the encouragement from those words made me want to strive harder.   I knew that if I "almost" made that goal for my Dad then I "almost" reached a goal for myself.  The satisfaction from finally making that shot and reaching my goal was excellent.
     What I learned out there on the grassy court, under the net is something that I can now apply to the goals I make in my life today.  The extra push I get from the word "almost" is unmeasurable.  If my dadd would have said, "Okay Tammy, that's good enough.  Let's quit now.", I don't know how I would have reached some of the goals I have accomplished to this day.  I would have probably found myself saying, "Okay, that's good enough." and never giving it my best shot.  If I say to myself, "You can do it, you're almost there.", it is far more encouraging than giving up and saying that it is good enough.
     Now I am at a time in my life when I use the word "almost" religiously every day.  After four long years, graduation is rapidly approaching and each morning as I grab an "on the go" breakfast and the keys to my car I say, "Hang on.  You're almost there!"  Then I'm on my way to tackle another long day's work.
     My grandfather always encouraged me to stay in college.  He too, used the words, "Hang in there.  You're almost finished."  I often wondered if someone had told him, "Okay, that's good enough."   because he never knew how to read; he could only sign his own name.  My grandfather passed away last August and I know how badly he wanted to see me graduate from college.  When I walk down the commencement line with my fellow classmates, I'll be thinking of him.
     "When something is 'almost', then it is bound for excellence."  That is my new famous quote, straight from me.  Think about it, if something is good enough, then is it really "good enough"?   "Almost" leads to excellent.  "Good enough", well, it's JUST "good enough".