Tagged: poetry

Suicide

I thought I’d love him forever
so I tried
to never take his harshness personally
then one day
a piece of me died
alongside my friend.
Harshly.

And for the sake
of saving face
bravado entered the room
as my heart moved in a new direction
boldly,
lacking sympathy
and I realized

His heart had wrapped itself
in harshness
and no matter how much
he loved me
(if he’d ever even loved me)
we’d never be what I’d hoped for.

Life

Because the goal is
to live a life that doesn’t end
with death,
we are nice to people
who hurt us.
We read the Bible
more than usual
studying life
and God…
Jesus
and Judas
and how to embody
life that won’t end
ever.

To last forever
and be everlasting.
Oh, what a concept
rooted in connections
relationships
but most of all
love.

 

About feminism.

My heart is on the line
confused
somewhere between
the Bible and
bell hooks
it becomes difficult to understand
our priceless history
as women.

To put your dreams on hold
for the sake of family
children
love
is beautiful and brilliant
but may be a sin against God
Himself
(or Herself)
because we weren’t all called
to be wives
mothers
tidy housekeepers
who move with angelic grace
while managing to raise girls who
rebel.

Some of us just might be called
to Run with Wolves.
Some of us even bold enough
to hunt the wolves.

A beautiful, southern girl
whose smile brings sunshine
should not spend each day
of her confused but lovely life
on trial
being judged
because God made her
beautiful and sexy,
but feminine on purpose
with fire in her heart for something different.

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To Fall

Once the sun scorched
upon my shoulder
and I adored it
and cherished it so much

And it was delighted.
So delighted
that it painted the sky
the hue of autumn melons

Then I reached
to kiss it
and to love it
and to embrace all of it

And it became a season new
and I stood the calmest still
and shed my leaves

The Embodiment of Imperfection

I am the embodiment of imperfection
often the secondary selection
after others have been disrespected
and mentally molested
by manboys on a quest to
conquer soil.

To conquer what’s already been made dirty
by short shorts and skirts too flirty
coupled with men who don’t value the worthy,
but I can’t tell you which is worse because
I am the embodiment of imperfection

With the ability to provide mental erections
and spiritual suppression
before even considering physical sessions
and vice versa.

That’s why I can’t tell you which is worse.
In midst of praises,
I get cursed.
And thought often secondary,
I’m sometimes first
Without warrant, I’m searched
and researched
Where’s my shirt
and flirty skirt.

 

I’ve been trying…

to write a poem about him but the words bang around in my head and I end up writing all over the paper like a child.  Words  and lines and drawings are everywhere, but those words and lines and drawings don’t makes sense emotionally (my way) or logically (his way).

The words just won’t seem to come together yet.  That’s quite frustrating to a writer.

Somewhere wrapped in all of these papers filled with jumbled words and cloudy thoughts, is a great poem.  I’m sure of it.  Because love this big and sadness this strong is the stuff great poems are made of.

In my dreams

at night
after drunk-stumbling around the town
pretending everything is fine
I dream of you

and I don’t want you there
but I don’t sleep unless you’re there

Next to me
in my dreams