Tagged Poetry

Just Exactly Dead

I wish my point of view didn’t exist. Don’t want to be human, don’t want to sweat the small stuff, but when I do, I know an inner-explosion is about to occur. That being fed up thing. I used to point fingers forward, I trace all fingers back to me. I listened to the heartbeat…

He Asked me out Again…

I see him. My chest hurts. Danger, body says danger. He smiles. He says my name. He asks for my number again. He does have guts I stick to my guns. I type on my computer. I barely look up as I tell him no. Its not that I’m interested. Its not that I’m not. Not sure if it is my gut. Not positive its not a false alarm. So I type. I continue to type. I type them all away. No, okay?  

Berry Tree Days

I thought of you yesterday. There were berries. Wild berries. I thought of us eating the berries and climbing the trees. I thought of us going through the woods. The way that we would fight over who would get to climb which tree. The way that I would miss you when we would fight. I…

His Yellow Shirt

This is a spoken word/poetic story that was also performed at The Moth in L.A. on Valentine’s Day in 2017.  This writing expresses the depths of my feelings towards divorce and along with that my questioning religion. “He was wearing that yellow shirt. His eyes sparkled.”      

Memory

“I don’t want to let the memories go.” “But you were never made to live in a memory.”

Invite me to the wedding?

Dear Dear One, The smell of grass. It doesn’t remind me of you anymore. I noticed yesterday. The wind blew. Newly cut grass thrown in the breeze. I caught it. It struck me later in such a way that left me sad. The image of a man came to me. He stood under a fiery sun. He wore a straw hat. His skin was brown. His eyes bled with salt; it poured sweat. “Wanna go for a ride?” He had the warmest hand. His smile whisked worries away. His agility moved with unceasing grace. He climbed trees. Once upon a…