Written for the #bloganuary prompt: How do you feel when you look at the stars?
Tag: poetry writing
We, Us, and Me
I don’t cry when I think about them The people who used to be we and us Haven’t in quite some time Every once in a while I see An old photograph and I’m tempted I wonder if I should try But then I remember The ball is on the other side Maybe one day…
Discovery
Last year someone broke my heart. I fell to my knees and cried bitter, lonely tears. I’d asked so many questions, struggling to understand. Suddenly it all made sense I filled pages and notebooks With feelings, frustrations, desires. Then I put my pen down and I looked around with renewed appreciation, for all was good….
Seashells
Collecting seashells is like taking pictures — you keep picking and looking for more, (taking multiple shots) because you don’t know if that’s the best you’ll get, or maybe there’s another, more beautiful one, still to come. So it is, I think, with love.
Waves
I wish the sound of the ocean could drown out the constant ringing in my head. If the ringing was gone, then the only sounds I would hear right now would be: the waves gently crashing on the beach the wind rustling through palm fronds the flip-flop of sandals on the boardwalk katydids singing in…
The Sunday Post: Pillow Talk
Pillow TalkIt’s dark, no lights on in this room.Music’s soft, coming from another room.I hear you breathing next to me.Our legs are tangled, your arm’s resting on me.My thoughts are spinning, I’m not sure if I should.I think I know what my heart is feeling, but maybe I misunderstood.I start by telling you I am…
I Catch Myself Smiling
I catch myself smiling at inopportune times It’s random, just out of the blue I might be in the middle of a meeting Or just driving, sitting in my car A memory or thought will sneak up On me and make me smile Or even laugh Even sitting in the salon I can’t escape When…
Mosaic
My body and soul My future, present, and past Are all but little pieces assembled By a very large cast. I drink my coffee black because That’s how he taught me to drink it And I root against the ‘fins just ‘cause He gets angry when they lose (that’s childish, I’ll admit). I surround myself…
Savannah Smiles
Straight out of the notebook that stays at my side, including last week’s road trip. It’s not so much poetry as stream-of-consciousness writing, with little to no editing. Texting in the park About toys, gifts, strangers, and drinks Smiling by myself Sitting on a bench Listening to the birds And the clop of the horse’s…