Poetry Friday: Staining Cement

Staining Cement

Last night when we held hands
I felt your heart beat so fast
and I wondered why mine
didn’t.
You know I love you but my
heart stayed steady, so the blood
in me stayed cool.
I liked your hand,
all warm and strong and wrapped snug
in mine,
you saying you didn’t care about
sweat, but
I felt guilty that my heart
didn’t betray me like yours did,
like crime scene evidence
that my heart is broken, all the love
leaked out and staining
the cement and chalk.

Poetry Friday: She Haunts Me

She Haunts Me

She’s a wriggling, kicking, fighting artist
but she’ll only create on a whim.
She won’t hold still for a moment to be held
and woe betide those who force a hug on her.

She runs away from the past but
won’t run to the future;
she runs and runs in circles and
points her finger at everyone else,
screaming her hateful blame.

She’s fiercely independent and
a flaming feminist and can’t
control her viperous tongue,
though she wouldn’t care to if she could.

She’s got wide, flashing, dangerous eyes,
blue like the first crushing wave of a tsunami.
Her smile is rare and only used sarcastically,
the thin curve twisted by painful years.

I avoid her gaze when I pass her in the washroom,
but sometimes I forget and glance up—
I fear those wild eyes.
She haunts me, this girl, this monster,
and I wonder if I will ever escape.

Words

This is a post.

Update:

I recently totally BS-ed an English paper and got a 92% on it. No-name state college, I LOVE YOU. (My dad calls this negative reinforcement or something.)

Spent a few hours writing a script for a short horror story. It was fun but I realized I’m terrible at horror (prolly cuz I have a whopping zero experience in the subject). Then I tried to make it a horror comedy. I got bored after half a page. But it was fun.

Yay, President’s Day! I hope to make it a day of much relaxation.

Oh, I did this:

Yeah, I’m trying YouTube out. I’m not so good at lip-syncing. Why am I trying YouTube? I have a friend that’s into film and I thought I’d give it a try. Here’s her YouTube channel: TransparentClouds. (Look familiar? I’ve advertised for her before.) (And… actually, I quoted her here, too. Er… just check it out.)

I’m still reading Brené Brown’s I Thought It Was Just Me (but it isn’t): Making the Journey from “What Will People Think?” to “I Am Enough.” What a mouthful, right? But it’s really good. It’s slowly healing my heart. Counselor-recommended, ya know?

Anyway. Hooray for life–or at least the moments that make life bearable, right?

Cheers.

Seven Valentines That Will Put You in the Mood For Love

Love it love it. Happy Valentine’s Day, team!

The Waiting

Ahhhhh, can you feel it? Love is in the air.

Or perhaps that is the sickly sweet smell of grapes that your child left behind the sofa three weeks ago.

….

….

OK, that’s totally what it was.

Moving on. 

Valentine’s Day is less than a week away, and if you’re anything like me, you want to celebrate your sweetie in a way that befits your one-of-a-kind love affair. I have created some Valentines to help you do just that.

Enjoy.

1. Celebrate the one who has made it all worthwhile.

complete life

2. And celebrate the one who has stuck by you even on days when you ate only hummus for lunch.

thanks for that

3. Say “you’re great” to the one who has cut all their fingernails down for sanitary reasons.
parenthood

4. Whisper sweet nothings to the person who will always fork over their stick of pepperoni.

romeo and juliet

5. You care, so go ahead…

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Poetry Friday: Who’s Afraid?

Who’s Afraid?

I met him as a child while reading;
he towered over me, three times my height.
Awake or asleep, I can still see
his long hairy legs,
his yellowed fangs and glinting claws.

His crime against me was one of consumption;
but all could have been forgiven, had he not
disguised himself most heinously
as my grandmother.
Is nothing sacred?

Poetry Friday: For Drooble

For Drooble

Gray speckles on a gray-green landscape,
me a pink splotch,
I march through the cemetery
unafraid of the mothers and fathers
and children
sleeping in earth.

Stone benches say,
“Come sit awhile and think of us.
This stone preserves our
hospitality, like the jars
we sealed our jam in,
laughing with loved ones.”

I see symbols of life,
like flowers and angels
and “always in our hearts”—
the beating hearts of the living,
moving on but holding close.

What the school counselor
doesn’t tell you
as you sit in her office in tears,
is that not only does everyone
grieve differently,
but that you will still grieve
one, two, three years later,
walking by the sixteen-year-old’s stone
and wondering why.

Surrounded by all the words
of comfort from families left behind,
the traditions and religions,
the pictures and tokens,
you’ll touch the hollow of your throat,
near a pulsing vein
and think of him,
and of Him,
and of death,
and of what lies beyond.

* * *

If you want to hear me read this to you… check out this video I made! On my YouTube channel.

P.S. I’ve figured out I like blogging, but I don’t like blogging on a schedule. So yeah. Enough of that nonsense. Also, I’ve spread myself so thin on Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and WordPress that at this point I’m pretty much just gonna post and tweet and whatever only when I feel a need. Live life! Do great things! I hope you guys are so happy with life. Peace.

Time Travel on Facebook

This is so wonderfully written, it’s like literary candy.

The Green Study

canstockphoto19374534

I’ve written before about my aversion to some social media. Besides the conspicuous consumption of time, Facebook is how I found out that my best friend from 5th grade had lost the use of both her legs and arms in a car accident. Which led me to a search where I found out that another classmate and her brother were both dead in their early 40s. It was jarring and traumatic. These faces, who were frozen in my mind’s eye, were young and healthy and living happy lives in some far off world. Anything beyond that failed to reach my imagination.

When I was in my teens, we moved to a house, town and school far away from where I’d grown up. It was, in reality, only about 40 miles away, but rural miles. No public transportation or extra family car or cell phone plans to keep in touch…

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