Tag Archives: poetry

Something to think about

I began writing poetry on my own at the age of 12. Since then, I’ve written short stories, plays, news articles, a novel, and even a pilot for a tv show. Nothing ever feels quite the same as when the words of a poem fall into place, though. I worked on this one throughout the day; maybe you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.


I’ve written of love.
Of the gentleness in a look,
the excitement of the first kiss,
the freshness of a hand-delivered bouquet,
the brush of fingers on an arm.

I’ve written of love, but –
Did you know these things could be spoken, as well?
I’ve been told as much.
I’d like to learn to do that, too.

I can write easily of how I am surprised every time I look in your eyes.
That there is something about your embrace that quiets and emboldens me at the same time,
of how a penny is too cheap for your thoughts,
and how the etchings of joy on your face make me smile without abandon.

I would like to learn how one speaks these things
when the breath has been sucked from the lungs,
when a stopper has settled in the throat;
How does one make an awestruck mouth form words?

Is it a skill learned with practiced words and years of fumbled lines?
Perhaps it is a skill that can be imparted with a kiss?

Maybe I can try to whisper them at first…
perhaps then the words will slip past myself, because
they can be spoken, too.
I’ve been told as much.



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These Things I Say 

You ask me if I seek love and the words drip from your poisoned tongue like acid.
But what is love to me?
If I was to look on one I could love, I would cut out his eyes,
Because the eyes always hold such allure for me.
I would cut out his tongue,
So he could not spin me sugar and lies.
I would cut off his hands,
So his touch could not linger on my skin or in my mind.
I would cut off his feet,
So he could not chase my affection.
I know what love is.
Love is weakness, love is betrayal.
I am not these things.
Love is cruel, love is unyielding, love lives only in our own construction.

Show me companionship and I will sit beside you for hours.
Show me compassion and I will hold your hand for days.
Show me honesty and I will stand beside you for years.
Show me forgiveness and I will be yours for eternity.
These things are enduring. These things, I can be.

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A poem…untitled for now

I walk with giants.
I move among beasts.
Some days I think that I am one of them.
But which I rarely ever know.
I look into the mirror glass
Is this me that stares back?
Come look, cheek to cheek
You are there oh so clear but
Look a little closer darling
If you dare.
Tell me what it is that you see.
For I fear I have forgot me.
Through these hallowed halls I travel.
Ghosts before me, ghosts behind me
Am I chased? Or propelled?
A shadow walks before me but
the position of the sun eludes me.
And here I wander
And whose company I will keep
Remains to be determined by
The counsel of your keep.

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New poem, possibly still under construction…

I am happy.

The sky is blue.
Except it’s not at all.
It only appears to be so;
a perception of filtered light
bounced off particles of dirt
and reflected in the atmosphere;
a reflection absorbed by our retina
transported by nerve impulses
gatewayed via the optic nerve
to that one spot in the brain
that will determine:
The sky is blue.

Except it’s not at all.
It only appears to be so;
Because the sky is clear.

I am happy.

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Thoughts of you…

And when the calm and quiet of the night descends,
when I put the business of the day aside and give my mind
free reign to wander where it will, it goes right back to your door
and rests upon your face, and within me there is peace.