Category: poetic meanderings

Melting Into Me

Does too much to say make the saying harder to come by? Have you consigned your will to create with the words that entice you or are they challenging you to do more and better, forcing you to feel deeper and stronger? You don’t know how to write yourself out of what you have fallen into so you simply stop writing because, maybe, if … Read More Melting Into Me

Outside In

You, my child. You are before me with eyes wide open and I search myself for what it means to raise you. Love over contempt, action over apathy, acceptance over fear. We teach by example, you and I; learning through each day we are allowed another opportunity. I and you –  anger and retract, push and apologize, cry and try harder. I see me in you … Read More Outside In

we

it is me. most definitely, me. who is confusing, even to, myself. still, you have desire. of. none. for me… not the me, of now, for she – in all of her she-ness… is a trigger.  that. ignites within… you (she hates that). we have taken the worst, of us… to display in all ways, to us… you, and me, we. never. planned. this. … Read More we

taxi cab from monterey

i want to tic with kerouac in the shiveringest of places. mind does not matter if mind is over matter. that place. i see him.  i feel me there.  i sense him beside me; red wine exhales and musty clothing. he is my breath, my thoughts, my words. i understand; no explanation extended. i just simply do.  

selfie

arms grasping at time- soundtracks; roadmaps; endless photographs scribbling frenzies to fill pages with- hold this moment; love intensely; let it go

cranberries

pain in the deepest blue-gray swell of ocean crashing on cliffs and exploding in my head. beg to leave, go, settle into calm, peaceful sky but no.  medicate without true placation i breathe in and breathe out mindful of each ocurence as it needles and gnaws, clawing at each part of my body wearing me down to nothing more than a staccato reaction of … Read More cranberries

crash

Saturday morning.  Sunrise.  White froth thrown from cliff-crashing waves dances before me, as if to say ‘Good Morning’. Sun threatens to pierce through the morning clouds – her hue sure to influence the direction of my thoughts. I am the grand crash splashing myself about the rocks; the uneven yet consistent tide; the fluid combination of darkness and light. Leather & Lace. These cliffs … Read More crash

headbutt

i need you to know… my love is there. i push, because- i want you to grow, into your best you. my strength – your strength – same eyes, same legs, same heart – butt heads; push and pull, and i know… it’s hard to carry your load, and it’s hard to carry my load, and i need you to know… my love is … Read More headbutt

interior monologue

Art in various forms.  Warm rosemary bread and coffee; Vanilla Nut.  Drumsticks and earphones.  Dirty socks on the floor.  Stuffed Animals.  Beach artifacts.  Fresh herbs and scented candles of the real-wick type.  A swinging chair in which to sit and ponder life.  Palm trees and brightly colored, freshly planted flowers.  Painted Terra Cotta pots of twelve-year-old girls. A B-B-Q pit; our first major purchase … Read More interior monologue

phoenix

from the ashes of her deconstructed being, she learns to take hesitant breaths. from the fears that left her knowing nothing of herself, she sees glimmers of enlightenment and love for her soul, and lightness in her dark. sate amid her famine tears with a purpose, she knows, but is still to weary to define. from the ashes of her deconstructed being, she learns … Read More phoenix

she knows

She lives this but doesn’t know it.  Her writing flows through her in beautifully scripted eloquent sentences and her words pierce me as she looks on in amazement.  She tells a story as if she were living a moment and that is where the sweet spot of beauty is found. Words; hers, mine – they all come together to form a meaning or moment … Read More she knows

muse

Rays of sunshine through fronds of palm. I cannot give due diligence to the prattling thoughts – the ones that aren’t even truly known to me until they make their way onto the pages I write to find me. You taught me the gift of the written word back when we were all sleeping on waterbeds and rollerskating under disco balls and we didn’t know that … Read More muse