Archive for the ‘MacKenzieJ’ Category

Tiny TV

Posted: June 4, 2014 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ, Uncategorized

Those days at the visitation center, We had the choice whether to stay or go.

I always chose to go with you.

Those long car rides to one of the Carolinas, I never knew which one,

in the back seat with my brother watching the tiny TV screen squeezed into the gap between the two front seats.

Playing a random assort of movies that we drew out of the bag.

Matt and I sat covered by blankets watching the TV then you called my mom, screaming in a way that made my ears hurt,

calling her bad names.

TV on full blast, still unable to hear over the screams on the phone and gulping back the tears burning behind my eyelids.

That was when I realized it wasn’t going to work, this isn’t the way things are supposed to be.

That was when I said Goodbye to someone I no longer knew.


Posted: June 4, 2014 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

A horse’s tears have

horse shoes and hay

A frog’s

swamp water and flies

A dog’s

painful goodbyes

Mine have

mascara and giggles

Yours have

red and blue swings.

That room…

Posted: June 2, 2014 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

I sat thinking about that room as I watched my mom work.

I said I had to use the bathroom, but I made my down the hall to that room.

That room was fantastic.

I snuck in barely reached the handle and glanced around.

Colors lined the wall, illuminated the room with pinks, blues and yellows.

I loved going to that room.

I went by each cubby hole one by one and grabbed with my little clumsy hands five of each color.

Red, Pink, Purple, Blue.

Stopping to get a stool to reach the top.

Green, Yellow, Orange, more Purple

I carried a stack of colorful bliss into my mom’s office.

That copy room with the colors of the rainbow lining the wall will always be a part of my heart.

Scribbling with sweet smelling markers and long letter in what I thought was cursive, but it was merely scribbles on a colorful page.

Things A Pencil Knows

Posted: June 2, 2014 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

What does a pencil know?

Sweaty palms

and shaky hands

being lost

and found again

lined paper

solid paper


and falls


and small

cluttered bags

and paper stacks

tapping desks

and chewing pests.

That’s what a

pencil knows.

Childhood is…

Posted: October 24, 2013 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

Childhood is thinking every food my mom gave me was chicken.

Childhood is remembering being in church with my family.

Childhood is saying I love you, when your mom tucks you in and kisses your head.

Childhood is laughing while saying the tumor on my arm was my muscle.

Childhood is playing in the dirt pile with all the neighborhood kids.

Childhood is seeing my brother sneak and play on his DS while he was supposed to be sleeping.

Childhood is listening to Kids Bop Cds on my portable CD player.

And Childhood is having not a care in the world and happiness is experienced with no effort at all.

When I Was Young on The Hill

Posted: October 24, 2013 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

When I was young on the hill,

I spent many of my days in my grandparents

once yellow and green house.

My brother and I went into the junk filled garage,

and plundered to find adventures beneath the dusty objects.

We often found black, hairy spiders as big as our hands,

and screamed for Granddad to save us from our distress.

When I was young on the hill,

I always looked forward to dinner always home-cooked,

and they never forgot cornbread on the side.

When I was young on the hill,

I sat in awe as my old but strong Granddad

told us stories from he a young child.

After he told those stories,

I scurried and found my way into the bedroom,

to watch Blues Clue’s on the tiny tv screen.

When I was young on the hill,

I found myself in the graveyard, behind the house,

playing ghost busters.

When I was young on the hill,

we waited and watched for my Mamaw Judy

to say “There’s a hole!!” and tore Granddads shirt excitedly.

While we lay asleep on the waterbed,

my brother and I soon got a wake up call.

My Granddad bouncing us on the bed, roaring.

Then often just a few days later,

I had to walk on the water bed trying to find

where water was squirting out.

When I was young on the hill,

I woke up on Sundays, put on my best dress,

and made my way to 5&6 Church.

When I was young on the hill,

I remember being surrounded by guns.

I was always protected by guns and Jesus.

When I was young on the hill,

My small family moved a couple times to different places,

But never failed to find our way home, where we belong,

to our home on the hill.

Where I’m From…

Posted: October 23, 2013 by kenzie1215 in MacKenzieJ

I am from the ice-cream truck,

always leaving me before I could get my money.

I am from Mt.Hope, Parsley Bottom, and

then onto Word of Life.

I am from the dragons and the rangers.

I am from the huge dirt pile,

and the many memories buried in it.

I am from red and pink rose bushes,

and the garden at the side of the house.

I am from Barbie and Ken dolls.

I am from raw potatoes

and fish, I always thought was chicken.

I am from fresh red kool-aid.

I am from Kids Bop CDs,

and carrying my CD player around everywhere.

I am from spaghetti

and easy bake oven brownies.

I am from frosty millers in the spring.

I am from huge tires and rocks,

and never knowing which way the creek flowed.