Categories
Poetry

The Web

It is beautiful,

I think,

to be a very small thread

on the web of it all.

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

At Five

Sometimes

I feel five.

Like the world is big

and I am small.

And there are kids all around

bigger than me,

louder,

scarier,

bolder than this softness

that folds me

like tissue.

(No one else folds like tissue.

Just me.)

The softness of me at five

lingers;

a scent

(like lavender)

on the breeze

of my soul.

The softness of me.

The softness of me.

Categories
Poetry

Little Light

What colour shall I paint my sky?

Soft-pink and grey:

clouds of spun sugar,

sweet dreams that drift me to life?

Bring me a cool breath of clarity.

Bring me a little light,

and I will shine it, wherever I may go.

Though the roads may crumble

and darken

and fade,

I will have my little light.

I will have my sweet dreamy sky.

Photo by James Wheeler on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

A Story

It smells like a roast

but it feels like a story

of love,

of a garden,

and of home.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com
Categories
Poetry

Raging Humanity

Where do I put the pieces of me

that I do not wish to see?

Where do I put the pieces of others

that cut my gentle flesh

and baste me in the black oil

of smiles and lies?

Are we not all perfect, here?

Are we not all, nice?

Tied in the sweetest bows

of comfort and light

are the stories we tell.

Tied by the jagged boundaries

of our own

raging

humanity.

Open your eyes.

It is time

to wake

up.

Photo by Mat Reding on Pexels.com

Categories
Poetry

Those Eyes

There is a softness between us.

I gaze, but I do not see you first.

I feel you, first.

I know you,

first,

down to the bones that hold you.

I would ask for a kiss,

but I see it there

waiting

in your eyes.

Those eyes.

Bring me those eyes, one more time,

forever.

Bring me my medicine,

oh, sweet love!

What cruel, dark night

is this that finds me?

photo of woman closing her eyes
Photo by Arsham Haghani on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

Submissions

A few months ago I received a wonderfully exciting email letting me know that two of my poems are in the running for potential publication. A card company (based in America, I think) is holding them for a while, seeing how well they might hold up within their market space. If the poems do look as though they may sell…my words, and my heart, will be floating across a greeting card or a thousand. How exciting. Since I was young, I’ve thought that might be a nice dream to achieve.

This afternoon, I sent three more poems off for review, and two children’s picture story books. Imagine that: all it takes is to write and believe, and suddenly the world becomes something new. Possibility. And possibility then becomes a beating heart, sent to replace the old one that went about the day without too much more to hope for.

This is the beginning of a beautiful new life, for me. I’m in love with myself for the first time in my life. I’m thrilled to have found a beautiful connection with my writing; unlike ever before, it flows without even the thought of a pause.

I’m falling apart quite often, still, and rather confused about the whole ‘love’ thing: why I didn’t just stick to seventeen year old me’s decision to swear off men forever, is absolutely beyond me.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Man, or no man, I have an open heart that’s ready to share. And it’s so beautiful to have it flowing and connecting with everything that I am…I could take or leave romance, I suppose.

Maybe I’ll just write about it, instead. ☺️