short and (not) sweet

Through 28 years of life I have met people I wish I hadn’t. Although, sometimes I think going through those experiences helps me to appreciate the relationship I have now.

Sometimes my poems are a short thought. even though I always feel like they’re not enough, I think this one gets it’s point across.


More pain than joy,

searching for a prince,

loving that boy.

realizing I’m nothing more than a toy,

but these feelings only serve to annoy

because as a child all I can do is destroy.


Still waitin

I’d ask how you are,
but there’d be no truth.
I’d ask if you’re okay,
but you’d never answer.

I’d stop you in the street,
but your feet would keep on walking.
Sit at your table,
laugh with you over coffee.

I’d tell you the things I should have said,
I’m sorry you’re a good friend,
just the way you are,
As I sit, watching you from afar.

But you kept on walking,
and I kept on hoping,
you’d look back,
and see me waiting.

Am I a fool for waiting?

Write, without stopping!

A wise person said to me recently, everything you write does not need to be a masterpiece.
I think as writers, we never want to produce or share things that are less than perfect. This makes it hard for me to post as often as I’d like to, because writing amazing things takes so much time and effort.
We also forget, a masterpiece to us is not always received as such to our audience. My most beloved poems, are the least looked at.
To the people I wrote them to, they are cherished, but sometimes without that context it’s hard to relate to a very emotional poem, because it doesn’t leave a lot of room for someone else to insert their own story.

So today it’s share a poem you don’t like day! Let’s see how our ‘bad’ poems become something more to someone else.
And, if anything, realize that everything we produce is getting us closer to being skilled in this art!

The yoyo effect takes root
in my life,
as things get better,
to bounce back into strife.

Purpose seems imminent,
but crippling feelings;
that say you’re insufficient
begin to return,
my life, no one’s concern.

I see your face,
as it fades away
the melody of your love,
a lingering sway.

As my heart falls to pieces
imagining someday, oneday
lingering kisses
in place of your dismisses.

A love lost is better than regret
I can never be sorry
that for you, I lept.

You said you didn’t know love,
but its fear that keeps you from

hearing my words,
seeing my face,
letting us merge,
keeping pace.

Lingering thoughts
live within
the endless nightmare
of my greatest sin
a battle, never to win.

Maybe a day
a day will be
on that day, you will see
see how much of my life can’t be
without you standing next to me.

Trying, everyday

Daily blogging is like poetry, you require something to write about.
Sometimes I am lacking, alright, a majority of the time I am lacking.
I’d say I am pretty undisciplined in my craft and have a tendency to float around until ultimate inspiration hits me.

Sometimes I feel like I’m addicted to the genre of my poetry, which to me feels very painful.
I mostly write the hard things, the painful things, the things I want to make people cry with and it honestly sucks a lot out of me.

Sometimes I get so consumed with those feelings, always chasing that ability to feel them and find them.
For whatever reason in the last year I have experienced a lot of pain in the friendships in my life. It’s been hard and lonely and I found myself writing endlessly about it.

I’d really just like to know what’s on the other side of dark poetry. Leave my dark cloud and be able to move my soul for something lighter and convey it to the world in a meaningful way.

So here’s my attempt, which was written before my terrible friend decided to stomp all over me.

Friendship’s Wilderness
There is a love
that I would describe
one so needed
I can’t set aside

The world so dark
I couldn’t see
until your star
did shine for me

A strange new land
you led me to
face to face
not sure what to do

A fearful hand
I would describe
brought me a joy
that won’t seem to hide

Into the wilderness
my brand new friend
weaving our way ’till these hearts do mend
forever sure
I will defend
because you gave me
the strength to try again

Prompt time

Sometimes writing is hard because you don’t know what to write about.
Sure, the super talented folks like to go with the flow and somehow produce cohesive work, the rest of us humans need actual ideas.

Writing for prompts also allows an artist to own their skill. Having the ability to write outside of “inspiration” is a valuable tool. Sometimes thing’s won’t move us, but that doesn’t mean the topic isn’t relevant to somebody else.

Being a poet means claiming the ability to move someone else. This should not rely on our emotions, but unique understanding of language and love for language.

You will be surprised what ‘boring’ topics can be made interesting if you try.

So today, let’s write a poem on going to the laundromat ! ( I say this because my broken machine has been taken away and I now must venture into the great unknown to wash a family of four’s week of laundry. Pray for me.)

I will post mine in the comments, add yours. GOOD LUCK.