It
All Began in Brooklyn
by
Lyn Marinello
It
all began in Brooklyn
In
sweet little Sandy Springs
Each
focused in different directions
What
happened was ‘one of those things’
She
declined his many advances
He
persisted. Would not take her ‘no’
She
was knee deep in her school work
He
was busy in the studio
They
found commonality
Upon
the football field
His
charm was just too much for her
And
finally, she did yield
The
Seminoles in Tally
The
Alabama Crimson Tide
The
Falcons at Mercedes
A
house full of all sports pride
They
moved from Georgia to Dunedin
So
she could test the waters with The Rays
Cheer
the Bucs and Lightning
During
sandy, sun-filled days
Back
to the ATL
To
old haunts and stomping grounds
To
the year of travelling nuptials
The
sheer mileage simply astounds
Miles
in the office
Kelly
searching for a place to be
Uprooting
once again
To
build a life in OKC
Another
wedding out in Tuscany
Best
Man/Officiant all in one day
Kelly
came home – as she says –
Sunburnt
and with a fiancé
The
road may have been long and bumpy
But
I lovingly digress
You
two: Intertwined yet independent
Are
two souls destined to coalesce
Beauty in
the Broken
by Lyn Marinello 9/7/25
Sometimes there are scars, as visible as day from night
Shredded skin and missing parts, wounds from an obvious
fight
And then there is the damage, so deep it punctures soul
Fractures, frays and fragments, taking pieces as its toll
Injuries untended. No marks to leave a tale
Just chips and cracks and crevices as we arduously travail
Constant bands of belittlement, a fragile ego breaks
A tempered, timid spirit disintegrates and flakes
And when there’s just a pile of flesh and battered bone
The greatest architect and artist steps off His mighty
throne
He doesn’t see a worthless heap, too destitute for repair
He begins His diligence with the utmost love and care
He rebuilds what’s been destroyed and resurrects with grace
Gathers aches and pains, indignities and will skillfully
efface
Fists and feet cause visible trauma. Powerfully harmful
words are spoken
But God’s still the master of miracles. He knows there’s
beauty in the broken
At a High School Reunion, a group of successful alumni—now doctors, lawyers, business owners—decided to visit their favorite teacher. They chatted about their careers and families, but soon the conversation shifted to life’s pressures, stress, and constant chasing after more.
After listening for a while, their teacher smiled and said, “Hold on a minute. I’ll go make us some coffee.”
He came back with a large pot and a tray full of cups—none of them matching. Some were fine porcelain, others were plain ceramic, a few were chipped glass mugs, and one even looked like it came from a diner. As everyone reached for a cup, the professor watched in silence. Once they all had coffee in hand, he said:
“Notice what just happened. Most of you instinctively reached for the nicest cups—leaving behind the simpler ones. It’s normal to want the best for ourselves, but that’s often where the stress begins.”
He gestured toward the cups.
“The cup doesn’t make the coffee taste any better. What you really wanted was the coffee. But you still focused on the cup.”
Then he paused.
“Life is the coffee. Your job, your house, your income, your status—those are just cups. They help contain life, but they don’t define it. And the trouble is, the more we focus on the cup, the more we miss out on the coffee.”
What are you focused on?A Better Me
by Lyn Marinello
Expectations
run amok
On
my appearance and my job
How
I should always far exceed
The
average John or Joe or Bob
Isolated
by my mirror
And
the frame of societal hope
The
box I'm supposed to fit in
Is
terribly minute in scope
But
those boxes now have morphed
Not
sure toward positivity
The
whole world's like a living part
Of
Escher's Relativity
Up
is down and down is up
Back
& forth and forth & back
Good
is bad and evil wins
This
whole joint is out of whack
I
may not agree with everything
But
here's the good news, friends
The
difference in our opinions
Needs
exactly no amends
When
I awake each morning
I
greet the sky with gratitude
The
chaos that surrounds me
Will
not change my attitude
I'll
do the things my Momma taught me
Be
honest, frank and kind
Pushed
beyond my limits
I
will always speak my mind
I'll
lend a hand when able
Always
give 100 percent
Stand
with those that are struggling
Guide
them through their discontent
I
will not be defined
By
tomorrow's bourgeoisie
I
will simply try with all I am
To
be a better me
Idiomadness
by Lyn Marinello
Gifted
by the grace of God.
Swatted
by the hand of fate.
In
the midst of anarchy,
silence
offers no debate.
Don't
bite the hand that feeds you;
but
here's some food for thought ...
Why
is it that we disregard
the
answers we have sought?
Come
hell or high water.
On
a wing and a prayer.
Hostage
to infinite wisdom
yet
still sadly unaware.
In
the heat of the moment,
as
we hang by a thread,
we've
forgotten our worth,
each
numbered hair on our head.
Is
it a blessing in disguise
or
are we at the bewitching hour?
We'll
sure make ourselves quite ill
with
the negativity we devour.
At
the drop of a hat
and
by the skin of our teeth,
our
legacy's created
by
the story we bequeath.
Better
late than never.
In
the blink of an eye.
Labelled
many ugly terms
when
we dare to just defy.
Instead
of walking on eggshells,
let's
set the record straight:
We
are one in unity.
Division
only serves to desecrate.
We've
got to try to be better;
to
be patient, be gentle, be kind.
The
ball is in our very own court
as
to what lives in the hearts we leave behind.