Sunday, March 29, 2015

my heart is your toy

you treat my heart


our kids treat their toys

as if

it were a treasure

until the next shiny


catches your attention.

written 12/5/13

I have been going through the 60 pieces saved in my drafts folder. I really write some sad shit.  I think I am more willing to immediately post the funny stuff, but not always the depressing. A year and a half is long enough though, don't you think?

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Your Gaze

It is the small kindness
like the light caress
triggers the fire
and peels off my dress

your gaze lights the pyre
inflaming my desire
the sum of me in your eye
the passion you inspire

beneath you I lie
with your weight on my thigh
electricity through my spine
your name in my sigh

your lips against mine
travel along the line
to my skin they press
drinking me in like a wine

one hand on my breast
the other wrapped in a tress
of my hair, taking me higher
towards euphoric egress

I feel the spire
relax and retire
releasing our tie
like an unraveling wire

in these moments I fly
and now sleep is nigh
with you all is fine
no time to be shy

I feel like I shine
deep in my recline
the intense happiness
when we two entwine.

written 8/19/14

Another Rubaiyat! Part of me thinks this is cool, and that part is also too shy to post this immediately upon finishing. The other part of me thinks that this is just one more silly thing I've done because of a man.

3/25/15 I've been up all night writing and not wanting to post anything I wrote. So I decided to look up stuff in my drafts folder and find this. And I completely don't remember writing it, but I like it. I think that it's funny. (The note after makes me smile too.)

Saturday, March 21, 2015


One autumn morning
A southern elementary school class
Visits a barnyard

One activity is
Riding a tall brown horse
Climb some stairs

With some help
To get into the saddle
Brown and shiny

Kecie is third
She waits patiently in line
Excited to ride.

She's also scared
The horse is too tall
She could fall

At her turn
She walks slowly to the
Horse, who waits

She climbs up
And begins to cry out
No, I'm scared

Mixed with several
I'm not scared, I'm not
She is stuck

Between riding and
Running away. She is just
A little girl

It is decided
To let her rest while
Her classmates ride

She watches closely
That horse won't beat her
She's not scared

Everyone has ridden
It is Kecie's turn again
She climbs up

No! No! No!
I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm
I'm not scared.

She gets up
She rides the tall horse
She's not scared

She did it
Taking us all with her
Around the ring

Making us braver
Because Kecie's brave like all
Brave little girls

Rub my eyes
Wipe away my tears for
What I've seen

Hug my daughter
My own brave little girl
Conquering different challenges

Happy on this
Autumn day at the Barnyard
I feel brave.

written 3/21/15

This is based on a true story and a very good day at the Barnyard. Happy World Poetry Day!

Friday, March 20, 2015

If Wishes Were

When she was twenty-six years old, Gracie's cousin, Conner, killed himself with a big gun. What stayed with her was, on that cold January night, he had gone outside and wrapped himself in a sheet, so that he wouldn't make a mess. Even in the moment, as many had told her, that he was being his most selfish, he didn't want to make a mess for his mama. For Gracie, it was not the big gun destroying her sweet cousin that defined him. It was that sheet.

As she slowly moved through the rituals of sending off the dead, Gracie thought about the last time she had seen him, the month before, around Christmastime.  It was the last family gathering at her grandparents that had most of the aunts, uncles, and cousins. Gracie was outside with her brother and one of their cousins, talking in the crisp air.  Conner walked out of the front door of her grandparents' home and said goodbye to them. Her memory stops time right here. The sun highlighted his light brown hair to golden. She noticed that he had gained weight, and his normally athletic build had a little belly. Gracie was overwhelmed with the urge to go hug him. To protest his goodbye and ask him to stay and talk to them in the grey light of the cold afternoon. But, she didn't. She smiled and waved goodbye. And now he was gone.

Now she was wishing that she could go back. Go back and stop him. Hide him if he needed hiding, accept him if he needed accepting, and make sure he knew the whole time how much she loved him.

She saw him in the street. He visited in dreams. She wished he was with her. She wished that she had been able to help him. She wished that he was happy and safe. She wished that he was still alive.

Through the next two years, there were at least three more funerals, and the family dissipated. And Gracie wished for that last Christmas.

written 3/20/15

Happy World Storytelling Day! Although this isn't at all upbeat. The theme for this year was wishes. I am not sure if it fits into the storytelling category, or if it is finished or not, so I think I'll let it sit. One of the benefits of having a blog where all posts are considered drafts. :)

Oh and Happy International Day of Happiness. (I should have written a more upbeat tale.)

The Secret Crush of a Middle-Aged Married Woman

You don't know
How my body heats up
At your name

Or how I
Can't not smile around you
And your smile

Your voice lifts
My mood and my thoughts
Making me better

With you I
Can talk for hours about
Truth and nonsense

The thought of
You has set up camp
in my mind

With it, I
Am never alone or lonely
You're with me

I am silly
Crushing on a man who
Is not mine

Especially when I
Have a very good man
Of my own

And I think
That he knows and I
Deny it loudly

I should stay
Far away from you until
This crush passes

I'm not brave
I can't tell you this
My embarrassing truth

I can't say
I need a time out
It's too personal

So I cope
With having teenage angst now
At this age

And still the sound of your
Voice and the curve of your smile wrap around my
Heart, weave through and crush me

written 3/20/15

I felt like writing something different tonight, but it seems like more of the same to me. I guess this is the danger of having an almost all first draft blog. I do really like the title, though. I decided to use Collum Lunes for the stanzas, so there are 13 of those. The last stanza is a Collum Lune doubled. So the word counts of the lines for the last stanza are 6, 10, 6. I liked playing with form.


Wednesday, March 18, 2015

The Circle

through some odd quirk
of chemistry
crystals began to form
joining together in
a circle

closing together and growing
attracting other crystals
that formed a circle around
the original

runners extend between
the two circles.

but there is always the space.

written 3/18/15

Feeling blue and, obviously gearing up for all the writing in April. (I just hope I don't use it all up before then.)

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Camp NaNoWriMo, or Let's Feed The Alligators
So, I have also decided to sign up for Camp the same time I am doing NaPoWriMo, because, maybe I hate myself? But I have only committed to 300 words a day (more my speed than 1200ish) and I am going to count my NaPo poems in my NaNo counts.

"Gator Walk Warning" photo by heidi helmer

I have also decided to work on my Novemeber NaNo novel called The Protector of Hartley.  I set it down in December because I realized something horrible about one of my characters and it kind of hurt my feelings. I have picked it back up and reread it in preparation for April and I have realized a few things.
1. That horrible thing is actually the truth.
2. That truth still hurts my feelings.
3. I am going to cry a few times writing that stupid story.
4. I should probably rename the book Profanity and Poop, because there is a lot of both. I really like writing about shit.
This should be interesting.

oh, and PI!

Sunday, March 8, 2015

A Poem For Tia

Today I ate a piece of pie.

     It was an apple pie.
     It was homemade pie.

I spent the morning making the crust from scratch.
    And I used lard, not butter, so it was very flaky.

I used mostly Pink Lady apples with two
Granny Smith apples thrown in for extra crunch.

It was a Dutch Apple Pie, so there wasn't a crust on top ...
there was a streusel ...with cold butter, brown sugar and chopped pecans.

I didn't wait the two hours recommended before I cut into it so it ran over my plate and into the pie plate.

I crumbled a light layer of feta cheese on top
and then covered the runny, warm mess with canned whipped cream
because I like the psshtt of it.

It was the right amount of tart and sweet and tangy and warm and cool and creamy.

It was full of everything that was right and wonderful in the world.

I can't wait to eat another slice.

written 3/8/15

My friend, Tia, from my writing group, asks wonderful questions that really makes you think about what you are trying to convey.  She's awesome. I should probably wait until the fourteenth to post this, but I can always repost it if I am at a loss for a pie day poem.

3.14 15  So, yeah, I'm leaving it up for Pi Day. I really want some Apple Pie!

Saturday, March 7, 2015

NaPoWriMo 2015

I've signed up for NaPoWriMo 2015! This is my third year participating and I am really excited.  Why not take a crack at the poem a day challenge?



Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Dive Down

dive down
into the briny depths
the cold dark
wrapped around

dive down
into the everyday
and the light
that comes with
the mundane

it can break you
trying to be
trying to be
more than

dive down into what
makes you ordinary
and wait there
letting your lungs fill
with something new

dive down and let go
accept what you cannot change
accept the distant light
that calls you down
and down and

dive down

let go



written 3/4/15