poetry

Gathering on the edge of winter’s freeze,meeting family and friends at Applebee’s.Blessed for jobs even if we are displeased,eating around the table at Black-eye Peas.May we be generous and kind all throughout, thankful for our health as we scarf down at …

Hours crawled along while my bones grew brittle and stiffOnly the muffled frostiness of the concrete beneath my blanket kept my eyes awareMusty clothes and scents of wet dog floated up my nostrils and invaded my lungsEveryday seemed the same …

She whisperedAnd they traveled softlyLike the wild windsTickling my earsDancing with my hairSwaying me Like the tall wild grassIn which we satShe placed her palmOn mineAnd twisted her fingersInto mineAnd she squeezed And I felt The blood in her veinsThe sunshine in her …

It used to seem as if confronting my past and the shame I carried was somethingequal to willingly walkin thru fire.It got to a point where I was burning fromthe residing pain anyway. So I walked thru that fire and it turned …

in respiratory breaths he whispers me a lullaby… his eyes hold no warmth as his lashes drip in lies why do I let him hold me in his clawed clutches when his open teeth are spitting black murder he doesn’t speak a sound but …

I could give you a Rose, or I can give you a thornSomething sweet or something hardA word, beautiful and terribleA word, to be healed or to be torn.It’s up to you, a secret I’m about to revealLove, a hard …

She grew up in the tall buildingat the end of the street,her lungs filled with paper and lantern lightand oil paint and stars,surrounded by the perfectmessiness of livingin a family.She hung wildfrom the ladder that skimmedalong crammed shelves,collectingdusty-sweet bookswrapped in …

Wriggling wryly, I wistfully frettedThe chamberlain shook and listfully tookDryly my gin and at once he wettedHis throat. Sinfully fat, sat by the brook Cool water flowed and sullenly frolickedUntil wearily wept he spoke his woesOf termites in pours, unearthly polypsAnd …

#7 Recovery is a Process When my heart is heavy inside my chest, I don’t know how to make the weight easier to bear.  A rock hangs from my throat and pulls my head in a low bow. After I’ve …