Poems, essays, and photographs, with music and the other things worth loving finding their way in. Writing about what it feels like to exist in a space and in a time, shared in a way that invites you into a space already lived.
I was sleeping, dreaming an unusual dream, when I woke suddenly
I stepped outside the room and looked through the tall, glass window in the centre of the loft
Clutching the robe to
You were here with me
in my dream
I would rather you were here,
colors gleaming gold and copper in the sun
through the jet of your coat;
I would rather you were
I am but a girl
Hiding
Peeking ‘round the fence of your vast lands
Mesmerized by the expanses of its beauty
In wonder at the luxuriousness of your soul
Afraid
To trespass, uninvited,
’Tis true, I never thought to think, to dream,
To find the words while crafting this, midstream;
And yet, t’was but one color that did seem
To reach, inspire, set my mind
Tucked into nearly-nothingness
The fall of snow, I must profess -
Aside from chill that does repress
My eager heart and mind -
May be of Nature's best success
The purity does
“The trouble with a muse,”
(my dear friend said)
“is that one cannot control it.”
I am bound by the aches and pains,
By the emptiness and the questions that remain
In the
Blue sand underfoot
Chilled children’s drinks drain away
Boiling crabs blush bright red
Quarter Crazy Marathon
Quarter 3 - 2020
Prompt 4 - 12pm EST
Prompt #4: Write a poem about blue sand and
Only you
Defied reality
Defiled my mind
Withstood my sea
Came back to me
Not only you
Resisted reality
Withheld your mind
Shrank from my sea
Came back to me
Only you
(And
If you ever wonder why you lost me
All you have to do is remember
The countless words I spilled for you
Swept aside like autumn leaves
Blown away like apple blossoms
Discarded
It was far more nerve-wracking for me than I anticipated as I sat on a red metal bench outside of Monday Night Brewery, dolled like a go-go girl in my new
Over the years, I’ve come to enjoy “The Holiday Season” in so many different ways. In my youth, we enjoyed the traditional Christmas at home with family and piles of presents and
You’ll never believe where I spent Christmas Day and New Year’s Eve... or perhaps you will, if you’ve read of my love affair with Buckhead’s Southern Art, follow my
Tucked into nearly-nothingness
The fall of snow, I must profess -
Aside from chill that does repress
My eager heart and mind -
May be of Nature's best success
The purity does
He wasn't there at all; it was just the music that made her heart ache, swim, stir like those moments when they had kissed, when he had touched her hand, when
I actually found myself depressed as 5pm rolled around and the number of people at the cafe thinned out. The guys next to me moved to another empty table where they’d have
If you ever wonder why you lost me
All you have to do is remember
The countless words I spilled for you
Swept aside like autumn leaves
Blown away like apple blossoms
Discarded
You know you're beautiful, like no one else,
I've seen the way you hold yourself:
That shameless poise as you just pass through
Holding my heart like I belonged
Say it to me again, yet again
Those words that drip with fiery ice
Squawk, tear at me due to hidden pain
Tell me calm words are not so nice
Tell me, you
He wasn't there at all; it was just the music that made her heart ache, swim, stir like those moments when they had kissed, when he had touched her hand, when
Tuck your nose behind my ear
Speak so softly I cannot hear
Lips pressed gently to my skin
Murmur nothing again, again
Slip your fingers up my throat
Utter hushed words so remote
He wasn't there at all; it was just the music that made her heart ache, swim, stir like those moments when they had kissed, when he had touched her hand, when
Tender is his heart,
Tender is his love,
The one who reaches me,
Plucked me from skies above;
Tender is his touch,
Tender is his kiss,
And tender is my heart for him;
He wasn't there at all; it was just the music that made her heart ache, swim, stir like those moments when they had kissed, when he had touched her hand, when
He wasn't there at all; it was just the music that made her heart ache, swim, stir like those moments when they had kissed, when he had touched her hand, when
…It’s an experience. Music is always an experience, for me.
I’d shared Alex Clare’s “Too Close” video; my interlocutor is in Europe and hadn’t seen it, hadn’t heard
And the world is blue without your arms
And grey, without your mind;
It’s red, without your kisses, fine,
Refined by stalwart art
My mind creates a land of charms
With vibrant
Tucked into nearly-nothingness
The fall of snow, I must profess -
Aside from chill that does repress
My eager heart and mind -
May be of Nature's best success
The purity does
Come to me, you wild beast,
You whirling storm of beauty
Battered, scarred, bruised and teased
You grew beyond majesty
Wide, cold skies weep for you
In pain, relief and sorrow
Rage rumbles,
’Tis true, I never thought to think, to dream,
To find the words while crafting this, midstream;
And yet, t’was but one color that did seem
To reach, inspire, set my mind
We write; and it is not with a blind eye that we see ourselves, nor with deaf ears that we hear the cries of our hearts and souls - and those of others whom
Twelve hours and twelve poems, nine a.m. to nine p.m. on Saturday. And that was just the half-marathon.
I knew it would be a challenge, emotionally and physically; I didn&
You know you're beautiful, like no one else,
I've seen the way you hold yourself:
That shameless poise as you just pass through
Holding my heart like I belonged
Tuck your nose behind my ear
Speak so softly I cannot hear
Lips pressed gently to my skin
Murmur nothing again, again
Slip your fingers up my throat
Utter hushed words so remote
Real love is always chaotic. You lose control; you lose perspective. You lose the ability to protect yourself. The greater the love, the greater the chaos. It’s a given and that’s
As soon as I could when I got back to Hamilton, I went to visit my friend’s used-and-vintage clothing boutique. She loves clothes, was formally trained and worked with high-
I'm pretty lucky to have been raised in the South, where so many dishes are basic, simple to make, easy to recreate. I'm sure I learned to enjoy vegetables
I’ve always been shamelessly vain. I quit playing the viola while in middle school, despite my parents’ and teacher’s assurances that I was skilled, because I didn’t want callouses on
We write; and it is not with a blind eye that we see ourselves, nor with deaf ears that we hear the cries of our hearts and souls - and those of others whom
Twelve hours and twelve poems, nine a.m. to nine p.m. on Saturday. And that was just the half-marathon.
I knew it would be a challenge, emotionally and physically; I didn&
I actually found myself depressed as 5pm rolled around and the number of people at the cafe thinned out. The guys next to me moved to another empty table where they’d have
I don’t really like veggie burgers.
They were alright when I first tried them, when they were novel and restaurants like Hard Rock Cafe served grain-based GardenBurgers instead of soy-based
It’s greaaaat... to be alive...!Jo Stafford and Johnny Mercer, 1949
It’s been over a year since I last set foot in Hamilton’s Baltimore House, an eclectic coffeehouse overlooking King