armor

it’s one big exhale
this thing called letting go
punishing ourselves believing
we reap what others sow
every damn time
it’s all so unrelenting
the blame, the guilt, the fear
all of it, unforgiving
until the moment comes
when the armor we wear starts falling apart
revealing tired and battered souls
and broken broken hearts
it’s going to take time
to trust ourselves again
learn to love and laugh and cry
and live beyond the pen

late for work

i wake up late for work
which is not
the usual
but the clock didn’t go off
its appointed time.
shower.
dress up.
brew the coffee.
hazelnut.
one more sip and a promise
the day will turn out
just fine
for you are gone
that’s pretty plain to see
and i don’t know if i can go on
without you
beside me
but you and i always knew
you had to leave
eventually
so you can do your thing
this time without me.
turn the key.
rev the engine.
step on the gas.
no more objections.

in his eyes

his voice is like silk and whiskey
so smooth and so deadly
breaking through all the walls
i’ve carefully built around me

and when he says the things
i desperately need to hear
that i’m beautiful and that i matter
suddenly there’s nothing i fear

i’ll believe him for as long as I can
for sometimes a girl needs a little help now and then
to remember just how strong she is
deep down inside and from her pen

so keep talking, my introspective man
share the world that you see
so i can see it too and know
that some days it’s okay to simply be

strong and beautiful
sometimes vulnerable
perfectly imperfect and
in your eyes, unstoppable

Daily Prompt: Rain

Raindrops fall on the roof above us
The winds sigh through the window seams
Nestled beneath warm covers
Skin to skin, lost in dreams
All that love demands
Lost in twined hands
in safety
you see
me

*A nonet is a nine line poem. The first line containing nine syllables, the next line has eight syllables, the next line has seven syllables. That continues until the last line (the ninth line) which has one syllable. Nonets can be written about any subject. Rhyming is optional.

**First published on June 15, 2013

When I Met My Muse

When I Met My Muse

I glanced at her and took my glasses
off—they were still singing. They buzzed
like a locust on the coffee table and then
ceased. Her voice belled forth, and the
sunlight bent. I felt the ceiling arch, and
knew that nails up there took a new grip
on whatever they touched. “I am your own
way of looking at things,” she said. “When
you allow me to live with you, every
glance at the world around you will be
a sort of salvation.” And I took her hand.

—William Stafford from The Way It Is

sweet nothings

whisper those
sweet nothings
in my ear
even the ones
that sound rough
and dirty
the ones that make
my skin prickle
with anticipation
the ones that take me
on a journey
wherever you desire
for i will be
your Calliope
through ice and
through fire
each word you utter
my sweet poetry

soul blind

will things ever go back to the way they used to be
when you and i could go anywhere we pleased
and see nothing but welcoming smiles and open arms
take in the smells that come with the ocean breeze?

will we ever learn how to laugh with friends again
even the ones we’ve yet to meet?
maybe one day we’ll get to say, that sure was a wild time
how the world then seemed so lost in defeat

against enemies both unseen and seen
powers that be, rising from the distant past
all because we’ve all forgotten or never bothered to learn
that sometimes peace just isn’t meant to last

without hard work and a kind heart
that last one can sometimes be the hardest to find
in days like today when it feels like the world
has gone deaf and soul-blind