Mar 15
poem 0 comments challenge: General

Heart, what fancy do you so yearn for now?

Heart, what fancy do you so yearn for now?

You, so unmoved by the wind in its haste,

You, so moved by the sun high in its place,

Yearn you for snow to make your Pome Trees bow?

Or be it fire you ignite for now?

To flame and flare and rear its bridled head,

To rise and swirl ‘till Aphrodite’s bled

And to you, 'mid her ashes, her Doves do bow?
Mar 07

One in a Million Pony

Dear Taco,

It’s been four months now. Four months since you left us. Four months since I last saw your face or stroked your neck. Somehow, it feels as if I saw you yesterday. Somehow, it feels as if you were just a dream. I know you can’t hear this, but I have to say it anyways. I have to say everything I never got the chance to tell you.

    I remember the first time I heard your name. I remember how ridiculous it sounded to me, and how distraught I was that Maren picked you over the pretty paint horse I had seen. Taco, what a ridiculous name. A horse should be named something beautiful and regal, not after some food. This was the extent to which my five-year-old self considered your arrival into my life.
Feb 21

Some Kind of Beautiful

She was beautiful in all of the usual ways. She had wide eyes that reflected the depths of the ocean and the heights of the sky, so when others gazed upon them they thought that they could fly. She had hair that blazed like fire, like meteors in the dark, so that for a moment you could almost believe she was the sun within the night. She had a perfect face, strong and lacking lines, the face of an angel untouched by the bounds of time. When she smiled, her teeth shone like freshly fallen snow and the frosty winter-wind that blows on for miles. She had skin that was unmarred by life and its hardships; with the smoothness of a baby yet to draw its first breath, cradled in the arms of kin. Her hands were subtle and gentle, quiet in her lap and steady in their motions, unperturbed and without muddling. She had long legs that put her head above those around her so that they were constantly looking up to her in all of her heavenly glory.
Feb 14

From me to you

Am I not beautiful enough for you?
When you look at me
Do you read me?
Analyze my structure,
Sift through my curves,
Until you know all of my secrets.
Tear me apart until you crack my very essence
And it spills out,
Spills out all for you, my darling.
Love me, please.
Break me, if you must.
Hate me, if I earn it.
But God, almighty God, know that I just wanted Love.
You asked of me a favor,
So I conceived
And I bore this monster you swore to love
I laid on my back and shrieked in agony
My tongue twisted, my throat ruptured,
And I heaved and pushed with my heart in splinters,
My womanhood bleeding
And I gave you a part of me.
You looked
With your eyes closed, my darling.
Why were they closed?
Hardly bothering to turn, you let it fall from your limp
and pulseless fingers,
And left me in a pool of my blood and my tears
Cradling your hate to my breasts
Feb 05
fiction 1 comment challenge: Decide

10 O'Clock





The seconds fall away from the clock, dripping off the hands like the sweat slowly dripping down my forehead, down my nose, off my face.





As the end draws near my heart speeds up, racing, racing, racing like a horse stung by the hot bite of a whip.





“Sir? Sir, we need you to make up your mind now.”





The weight of this decision weighs down upon my chest, suffocating and crushing. The single defining choice to end a lifetime of loneliness. Or begin one.

Jan 21

“With liberty and justice for all”

In January of 1963, eight clergymen published an open letter to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. This letter warned against King’s demonstrations of civil disobedience. The clergymen called on him to preserve the peace of Birmingham. King received this letter while in prison for leading a parade without a permit. It was no parade that King was marching in, but rather a display advocating for human rights. Thus, “A Letter from Birmingham City Jail” was born. Composed on April 16, 1963, in the margins of a newspaper, this “letter” addresses the racial injustice in Birmingham and in the United States. Now, over fifty years later, the words of King still ring true to the tragedies of today. Yet, through the many mirrors of society, we are often unable to see beneath the surface; we forget that injustice manifests in many forms. The lynching of a black man, the raping of a woman: they both provide vivid proof that our society still clings to power and privilege.
Jan 04

Metaphors for Me

It never hits me until I’m alone.
I was lonely even before I left
The crowded streets where once my Heart had lept;
Even my house doesn’t feel like my home.

I’ve often walked a life designed for me,
To hide from the world what I am inside,
But she is unquiet and she is blind
As to why the world wish she be not free.

I’m alone until I’m not, and when not,
I can’t control her. For she has slumbered
Silently as the world walked onward,
and only stopped for a moment in Thought

At what this strange, peculiar little thing
Could be, and how they did not see her ‘fore
She began to sing her long-withheld lore.
Then they lose care; their absence clips her wings.

I’ve tried to be someone, anyone else,
But I cannot hide she who is my plague,
For she infects my Brain; my Eyes; my Tongue;
Anyone may witness my failing health.
Dec 09
poem 0 comments challenge: Power


As a young girl
I read
I read so-
Many wonderful books.
And the stories
which they told were more-
More wonderful
Than anything this
World could
Ever hold.

I longed to be
In these
Where sirens sing
And dragons fly
And journeys loom behind

Then one day
I was.
A storm cloud
A storm wind
And a lightning bolt
It flew towards

It shattered in the sky
Breaking in all directions
Like a ray of light,
Striking a prism.

No one was left untouched.
We were all in-
In the story now.

Into our heads came a voice
Into our souls.
Into everyone’s souls.

“I grant a wish, a wish so sweet
To feel that speciality
That feeling of uniquity
Dec 07

I am the Girl

I am the smart girl
Who pays attention in class,
And doesn’t speak
Except to answer questions.

I am the dumb girl
Who doesn’t understand
When someone wants her to leave them alone
Or to stay.

I am the quiet girl
Who only talks to one or two people,
And who shifts her eyes
When someone looks her way.

I am the loud girl
With the obnoxious laugh
Who tells too many bad jokes
In failed attempts to make friends.

I am the ignored girl
Who people forget they knew,
Whose friends move on,
And find someone else.

I am the known girl
Who can’t really hide,
Not because I’m special,
But because I’m someone’s sister.

I am the girl
Who is a collage of opposites
Which change direction
Like a sail caught in a storm.

But whatever girl I may be,
I am myself.
And I’m sorry if you don’t like who I am.
Dec 05

Falling out of Love

I am broken,
I am breaking
I have fallen into pain.

I keep on trying, but I just can’t get away.
So here I sit and watch the tears dance to the ground;
And hope that someday in their depths I may soon drown.
Living with this heartache just seems so hard to take.
I promised myself in my heart love had no fate.
But it keeps running,
Running ‘till it breaks.

And now I’m waiting here,
Waiting while it breaks.

Crying while it breaks.

Dying while it breaks.

I know I’m stronger than this person I’ve become,
But I can’t find the strength to stand up from this one.
My knees are bleeding and my elbows they are scraped.
My head is screaming for my heart to take a break.
But it keeps running,
Running into pain.

And now I’m waiting here,
Waiting here in pain.

Crying here in pain.

Dying here in pain.