Flowers

These flowers are growing again

in my head

and like a vine

they neither swoop nor swing–

they cling

to each side of my brain,

try to determine what type of learner I am

but either way, thoughts can’t be pushed

out of the way

so I’ll plan out another day to pluck and prune.

 

For now,

let me sit, lay down my head and rest

let nature have its way

before I run and play, amidst the gardens

outside these walls; in each season

they grow flowers, all their pinks and blacks

and greens– they look familiar to me.

 

In my mind I see a mirror,

one I can’t protest:

an image of you, an image of me

and sweet, pink, spring flowers,

scattered at my feet.

 

Each petal falls so slowly;

I do not stand in their way.

 

I watch in perfect silence;

I pray for peace today.

 

February 28, 2016

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About You

The day

I write

a poem

about you–

then

I’ll start

considering

love.

 

Until

then,

leave it

on my front step,

off with the paper

and my morning coffee;

let me read about it

in books,

watch movies

that make me cry.

 

I don’t know why

this song

keeps on singing,

over and over

in my head–

now remind me again

of that thing called love.

 

“A watched pot never boils,”

and well– a docked ship

never sinks

but land never did make

for a skilled sailor.

 

I will flip through these pages

and keep dipping my ink,

deeper and deeper

into my mind

until one day,

perhaps,

my heart

finds

its way

out.

 

February 24, 2016

why I’m still into monogamy

Like a sunflower at dawn

the light circles the window,

slowly, from pane to pane:

white fabric fading along

the edges, the slight smudge

of gray near the nightstand,

a black and white journal

shedding its ink. The carpet

is still blue, like an autumn sky

with a few scattered clouds,

makeup stains sprawling.

The dresser is dark wood and tall

like a castle, the mirror elegantly

gazing at the front wall, a pair

of slippers hiding underneath.  I

open two drawers and find them

empty; the other four, stacked full:

old T-shirt memories, championships

and golf tournaments, razorbacks

and soft wool sweaters mixed together.

The bed seems bigger now, a new down

cover reminding me of a new castle,

a different prince– one I could never get

to know in one lifetime, let alone one day.

But I can still sit here, quietly, observing

the nooks and crannies, allowing time to

haunt its human victim into realizing that

we can never fully know a thing, a person,

a place– so I might as well spend my life

with one man, one window, one room,

learning to love all the fuzzy details I am

lucky enough to capture.

 

happy love day!  I’ve been wanting to write a poem like this for a while, now…I’m sure I will be returning to it in the future, to tweak it here and there; but the underlying message will most likely stay the same.  I’m super open to all types of relationships that people explore and feel drawn to, and this is what feels right to me.  xo

February 13, 2016

Something Worth Fighting For

Do you

have something

worth fighting for?

 

Under the depths

of a powerful river

do you think,

“I wish I could tell you,

‘I love you,'”

then yes–

you have someone worth fighting for.

 

In the next snowpocalypse

do you go drifting off to your bed at noon,

arms full of magazines,

gin on ice

and a mad idea of hope–

you,

yes, you,

have something worth fighting for.

 

Last week,

the last one in class,

sweat dripping down your neck

and pair of unfortunate yoga pants,

determined to be in the now–

oh, you dear–

you have something worth fighting for.

 

The way things are these days, we all do.

 

All terminology aside, cutting

the “fight” off “ing”

allowing Being

to simply be

the one thing worth illuminating:

there is no fighting to be done.

 

I am not the only one.

 

We are all, deep in our bones,

careful risk takers,

taking empathy by the hand,

showing them a good time,

and then, with a faint smile,

letting them go.

Yesterday I watched Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix on a whim (and it was totally worth it, naturally).  The final scene really got to me.  Dumbledoor tells Harry that he has one thing that Voldemort does not have: “something worth fighting for.”  Sadly, I couldn’t find any good clips of this part on good ol’ YouTube, but here is one nostalgia filled video, ending with the classic line, for any of you fellow HP lovers.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iNhHqLYEMVU  

 

February 12, 2016

through my window

the intersection

of tree

and sky,

the lines 

they paint

across pale blue horizons 

while two black specks of bird chase each other.

***

Truth,

expanding over snow-dipped houses–

it will never be found beneath my pen.

***

the earth knows things my mind cannot see.

***

but I can still sit back,

exhale,

and soak in the view:

a single, conscious moment in the universe.

tumblr_nxewliCb0n1u489n5o1_1280.jpgFebruary 6, 2016