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The Hustle and Bustle: An Ode to the Single Parent

I can't seem to stop writing poetry or reading poetry. I think it is safe to say I love poetry and I love sharing great poetry with others.

Elias is in Kindergarten now!

Elias is in Kindergarten now!

I

So many problems to solve by seven.

Must sit and plan and make many budgets,

find out where every coin properly fits.

To never forget the roast in oven.

To gather awhile with children's teachers

a managed meeting looking for results,

to separate our problems by our faults,

our solutions hiding in the bleachers.

So many problems to solve by seven.

Are all rides and children properly

annotated in my daily notebook.

Time to accept all gifts that are given.

I must work many hours worry free

to move forward never a backward look.

Hannah is in second grade!

Hannah is in second grade!

II

On these many sticky notes, lists posted.

I feel like a lawyer with a legal pad

with colored arrows pointing like its plaid,

to forget this party that I hosted.

A single parents job is never done.

To get them to every sporting event

or every carnival and circus tent

or a day at the beach under the sun.

To fight against our household entropy.

All this mess constant movement seems to make.

The energy to keep this even keel.

A never ending struggle with laundry.

From when we fall asleep to when we wake

this upkeep a hidden part of the deal.

Sam has started Middle School.

Sam has started Middle School.

III

Each small moment begins before sunrise,

the smell of coffee brewing in the dark.

The sounds of waking from the morning lark.

I pick up my pen and write down my sighs.

To limit my problems to those of verse,

to hide in early morning finding rhyme

as if this practice is a major crime,

a key to breaking apart this life curse.

If only for a moment in the day,

to find a way to share this world through words,

to show the world that I am more then chores,

to know that sometimes I can sit and play

or find in music joy in simple chords

before I start the mopping of the floors.

Until the next year!

Until the next year!

IV

So many problems to solve by seven.

Sometimes pain and anxiety are real,

a constant reminder of how I feel,

to remind myself that this is heaven.

Must remember the joy in my effort

and put anxiety into a plan

to provide comfort as long as I can

along with activities and some sport.

So many problems to solve by seven.

Solutions that never make history books

but hopeful for children whose lessons last.

Find peace in form and movement of my pen,

avoid the judging eyes and painful looks

that everybody seems to want to cast.

© 2018 Jamie Lee Hamann

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