The Weather Haiku
There’s never any
telling, if the weather will
burn inside today.
– Miceala
Tag Archives: poetry
Some Adolescence for Your Tuesday
5 NovWell, oh lovely readers, it’s Tuesday. Not quite the bane of the week that Monday is, but possibly much more humdrum. Tuesday is the day where the rush and flurry of catching up from the weekend is over and the hum of seriousness kicking into drive whirs in the background. So, while I started the week off with the friendliness of Shel Silverstein in Some Childhood for Your Monday, today I’ve got a complementary post from my teenage years. Silverstein looked at where the sidewalk ends – I looked one step back, at the end of the sidewalk.
“The End of the Sidewalk” is part of a collection of original poetry, Tales of an Early Morning. The complete collection is available for Kindle through Amazon.com.
Some Childhood for Your Monday
4 NovI’m unusually happy for a Monday morning, lovely readers. Especially a cool Monday morning still cloaked in the grey air and grey sky of a recent rain and oncoming fall. Maybe it’s because of the way my boyfriend snuggled me on my way out of bed. Maybe it’s because I had an especially good (read: caffeinated) cup of coffee before starting my morning by talking about books with my thesis advisor. Or maybe it’s because I finally had time to slow down and make a cup of black current tea and write for a bit, instead of hastily microwaving a second round of instant coffee before rushing off to oh-no-I’m-going-to-be-late-for-class. Or maybe it’s just because instead of stapling a boring plain piece of paper to the back of my midterm (we had to provide a second “cover” sheet to keep our answers all cozy or something), I printed out my favorite Shel Silverstein poem and attached that instead. Because who doesn’t need a bit of the contented kind of childhood to more happily start off their Monday?
Thought you all might appreciate some of that too. 🙂
The Ironic Love Story
2 NovThe Ironic Love Story
I’m tired of fucking loneliness.
It’s a terrible lover.
But I couldn’t stay in your room
and be reminded of the absence of you.
I wonder if you’ll even notice
that my side of the bed is empty tonight.
Or are you really fucking empty, too?
Monsters
1 NovHappy Halloween lovely readers! If y’all are looking for a little light and spooky reading for Samhain, check out the poem I contributed to Wildlife Waystation’s e-magazine. It’s on page 20. The title?
Monsters.
http://wildlifewaystation.org/_blog/News_and_Videos/post/issue-10-animals-that-symbolize-halloween/
Falling Awake
28 OctA poem for this late Sunday night.
Falling Awake
You never go to bed alone,
with the whispers of your memories
sounding in your head,
keeping you awake
with the uneasy doubt
that there is something you forgot.
One flash in your brain, like lightning,
silent.
You never go to bed alone,
with all those ghosts behind your eyes.
Muffin Scraps
24 OctWritten in a coffee shop, for all you lonesome lovers.
I will not settle for muffin scraps,
those neglected shavings you pay no attention to
but which I might bite on fast and swallow
and so delude myself I have been given the real thing.
They are but a poor fragment
of the full substance of your sweetness,
and you will leave no trail of crumbs
for me to follow you home.
The Unseen Strength of Women
14 Feb
The unseen strength of woman,
A child on her hips and a husband on her mind,
With dinner to cook
And a PTA meeting to organize,
It doesn’t even cross her mind,
Those words, “thank you.”
The unseen strength of woman,
Five-inch-heels so sharp
They should really be called a spike,
Matching step for step
The confident stride of
The tailored pant legs around her.
Stumbling is not an option.
The unseen strength of woman,
Bearing the slow insult
Of one gray hair,
Knowing that soon she’ll have to add
Dye to the collection
Of tint and color and paint,
Because the men stop paying
Once youth checks out.
The unseen strength of woman,
With an eye for cloth swaths
And a penchant for fabric
And hands that know another language
Stitched silently across the hem line.
The unspoken sacrifice.
The unseen strength of woman,
Buried beneath a waistline of toil
Or the perfection scraped by
In a perfectly plucked eyebrow;
They pass each other in the street and
One nods to the other,
And both vow
Never to betray the other –
Weary.
Tales of Life
1 Jan
So, I’m a starving artist. Figuratively. My treatment team would get on me if I were actually starving.
But anyhoo, I’m a starving artist who loves animals and intends to be a vet someday. But the thing about becoming a vet – I must first go to vet school, which means I must first pay for vet school.
Well darn. That’s an inconvenient wrinkle.
Though vet school is over a year away, I’m starting to save up now. And I’m hoping that some of you wouldn’t mind helping – in exchange for a poem or few. I’ve published my second e-book, Tales of Life, and the royalties from its sales are going into my vet school fund.
Tales of Life is a collection of poems that are, simply, about life. They are tales of Mondays and scraped knees, of TV dinners and apartment buildings. They are tales of beauty in the commonplace, of second glances given to the quotidienne.
I hope you find as much wonder in the everyday as I do.
Enjoy.
Tales of An Early Morning
27 DecPublished my first e-book! Tales of An Early Morning is a collection of poems and short stories with a temporal aspect. The book is divided into three sections: Tales of Night, Tales of Coffee, and the namesake section, Tales of An Early Morning.
The book is dedicated to the Wildlife Waystation, the animal sanctuary I volunteer at. All royalties from the books sales go to support the Waystation. Hope you all enjoy!
Quill Aquiver 