Welcome to The Flipside, to The Upside Down. Here, everything is as it should be. Here, we live inside dark clouds. There is no sun in here, no days full of light. Here the shadows are more than echoes of a past we try to fight. Here there is no floor firm under your feet. … Continue reading The Upside Down
Poet's Notes: This was written in response to a journal prompt by Pixie Lighthorse from her book, "Prayers of Honoring Grief." The question was: How can I honor what I've been through?
Poet's Notes: I rarely write rhyming poems, unless I'm writing song lyrics, and even then they are more loose and lyrical. This is not technically perfect rhyming or meter, I just wanted to try and express an idea this way. It's a good exercise, and sometimes the limitations of rhyme lead to more concise metaphor, or at least, to keeping one on a more defined track. Also, there is irony in this topic being expressed within the confines of an imposed 'meter', which is apropos, and somewhat amusing to my geeky brain.
Here is a piece I wrote about being an almost step-monster.
I have olive eyes, a green I never loved. I wanted viridian, or better yet: sage. I wanted light eyes, bright eyes, eyes that pierce and coax against their will. Eyes that people remember because they electrify; Such powerful beauty they are hard to look at (for long, at least). But my green isn't bright. … Continue reading Eye Contact
As the Camp Fire continues to burn in Northern California, the San Francisco greater Bay Area is dramatically effected by Unhealthy Air Quality levels, which is effecting some of our health, especially those in sensitive groups, like myself. Many local poets are writing about this to deal with their experiences, and I am no exception. … Continue reading The Tower (a page poem)
I haven't written or shared Spoken Word poetry in a very long time, but felt utterly compelled to do so yesterday as way to deal with my own feelings about the current tragedy of the Camp Fire effecting so many Californians right now, including my own family who lost everything. I wasn't sure it was … Continue reading Fire-breathing (spoken word)
Friends always say, "Of course!" when they promise to keep in touch, keep the friendship alive, when a new mate is found. But I know you. Your hunger is so big, you struggle often to be anything else, and it's hard to think when you're starving. I know starving. Her name is Diana, you said. … Continue reading A Blessing for The Hunters
Don't barrel in with your desire, darling, if I have not agreed to your courtship. Don't presume I am your feast when I have not given myself over. There are gifts in store for the worthy, when patience reveals him. A man's heart is a wood stove, stoke the embers for a new fire. Blue … Continue reading Rites to Enter – vers libre
This is my second acrostic, in poem form, first letter of each line to spell the word. The word was given to me, and I found it stirring up deeper, more conflicted material with straggling pieces still in need of healing. I wrote this about the experience of being injured by an emotional abuser who used … Continue reading On Confronting Beauty’s Shadow: Another Acrostic Challenge