#MicropoetryMonday – January 23 – 29, 2017

Here’s all of the micropoems I’ve written this past week! Some were previously shared on Twitter & others are brand new! Enjoy!







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To break the connection to the things that still hurt would be to erase who I am, how I came to be, & why it’s survival to still be here Isn’t that what they did? (What they do?) Get rid of us, hide us, beat it out of us, pretend we’re not here, ignore us? I can’t. I won’t.


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Orchestra of broken glass Backdrop murals An air of intangible effort Out of place witness to failure a fly on the wall Nothing more

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Show compassion with open, broken hands Stand silent in prayer Heavy hearts are the strongest Tobacco on the ground Love in the air Smoke rising


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I never liked anger. I’m embracing it now. It’s fueling my fire to keep fighting. When I reach the cool down zone, I see more clearly.


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Yes, you do have a responsibility to prevent all this from becoming normalcy. You’re breathing, right?


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Carried away by the cedar flute Smudge & shell Direct line to Creator Healing winds Hurting wounds I hear you, ancestors Relatives, I see you


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Searing. The pain is searing.
I’m fearing. The neverending
neuron collapse. My stature–
structured synapse. The ghosts
of old hurts are peering. Menacing.
Jeering.


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I gaze in the distance at the essence of you Great Mystery, cast a moonbeam on all that you do Truth will always shine through


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Would we even know it, when we’re completely severed, (or so numb to the norm) From unfettered emotions, Illogical notions One in the same?


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It’s no good trying to escape, the vibrating vessels are vexed They become me In my fingertips, in my spine They leave me rusted Incarnadine

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Heart of dark Blood of ice Shuddering in your presence The sound of knocking knees & frozen fingers scratching down the walls


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Cry out to clouds for understanding Rain answers, Mother Earth was never so demanding of love, care & respect Until now Creator, show us how


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“Voice of Encouragement”


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To be on path isn’t just navigating twists & turns Life’s curve balls- You see those coming Those deep, dark, scary caves, though? They’re yours


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Space between seizures, a twisted back, chest pressure feels like a heart attack What’s panic? What’s pain? It all blends together the same


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Scorpio stings steals a Gemini heart Soul flame spark heals whats torn apart Determined duality love totality Real from the start


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Fractured faces in your iris– violets withered before you could water them I tried to show you love I tried to rain hope


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When I look out windows & see buildings, cars, pollution When these block the mountains, hills, the land They say it’s a great view I worry


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I laugh I have to at times Inappropriate or not Just as much as I cry get mad excited smile and breathe It’s all in my soul You see Empathy


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The W a n d e r e r The spaces between who he is (w a s) are the lost, s c a t t e r e d pieces of me


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Friendly eyes behind the mask of the golden eagle It’s a cage, really Pressed against her petal soft face Tin bar tears Silver prisms Gleam


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Brackish brambles Elastic tentacle arms bringing me back, upside down, around Books on beds, eyes misdirected Stand on head, new perspective


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Maybe you can’t feel your heart rip in two when croaked voices across the miles through phone waves pour their souls out but I can


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To achieve respiration control: Smell flowers, dance, read poetry, eat well, make music, write poetry, listen, speak, be poetry


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Every time my elders answered
questions with silence
it wasn’t because they didn’t
have answers. It was because
they wanted me to listen to the
Great Spirit’s voice for guidance.
My spirit too, deep within.


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Haiku:






“Which Crayola Crayon Are You?” Tickle Me Pink & Cerulean. I run adrift between the two. Indigo meets me in the middle. When I find balance. Harmony.

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Tiny tear droplets cleanse all doubt & cleanse all pain to walk tall again


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“Tastebuds” Bitter regret sure does linger on the tastebuds Pride: A hard swallow


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The truth is you don’t know. You won’t ever know. And I don’t want you to.

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“Hail to the Cheeto” Series #1 Predictable idiot, don’t you have some phone calls to make today?


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Small victories mean the whole world when a battle is so consuming


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It never takes much to make me smile. A nice, warm, new sweater will do.


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It wasn’t my fault
my culture was show and tell.
I grew. I fixed this. 
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VSS: (Very Short Stories)


Photo Courtesy of Flickr Hive Mind



“Undetected” I run. Further everyday. But I know he’ll come for me. His frozen hand imprinted on my skin means I’ll never be undetected.


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“Mino Gigizheb” (Good Morning) Gram’s breakfast table, littered with junk mail & spilled salt. I’d see visions in her coffee cup steam. Hers were in the crossword puzzle.


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“Script” Today’s events felt ad libbed. They weren’t in my script.


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“Plethora” A plethora of blank pages. A stack of broken dreams.


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“Ask” Sure, it’s okay to love. You don’t have to ask.


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Telling me my reality was a mirror of how I really see myself was so damaging. I’ve been unsuccessfully scrubbing dirt off glass ever since.


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You can love them and still hate what they do.


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“Story” He continued on with his story. I held my breath.


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WIP: (Works in Progress)

Sneak Peeks of what I’m working on! Enjoy!



— Rowan’s soul was in the art she made. Her heart was in every word she spoke. She got lost sometimes, but I always helped her back. — “Ok, you love me more than my own mother! I get it. This is your bad day. I won’t mention Chase’s adorable blonde curls again.”


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Helpless, I watched my cousins crash around me like comets. Their fathers, my uncles, were asteroids who fizzled out long ago.


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We had an X Files club in school. We met behind the dumpster. It’s amazing how kids back then weren’t bothered by the scent of trash.


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Happy Monday everyone! 


Open Eyes, Open Ears, Open Mind, Open Heart

What a week it’s been! I’m still struggling with chronic illness crap but keeping my mind busy. I’m sloooowly making my way through “House of Leaves” still. This book is insane. It successfully creeped me out so badly I wanted to chuck it across the room. (It’s borrowed from the library though so I didn’t.) Excellent read and I wish I had the energy to just finish it up but each chapter I finish takes so much processing anyway so even if I was feeling my best, I’d probably still have to take it just as slowly.

There aren’t enough hours in the day to keep up with all of the changes happening in the world. Today felt so much lighter though. There were some silver linings in the dark clouds of dread. I know not to believe that all of the madness will just suddenly stop but it’s amazing to see people stand up for what is right. I didn’t spend too long feeling hopeless and afraid because I witnessed all that is good in humanity in just a few days. I’m still witnessing it. Others who rise up, unafraid, inspire me to do the same even if it’s just on a small, personal level. Just because I’m small (and currently pretty gimpy) doesn’t mean I can’t do small things to help out the good causes. I don’t feel helpless anymore when I feel I can use my voice to be heard. I feel like when I am an ear for others, that helps too. I keep my eyes open. I can watch and read the news without feeling upset, afraid or angry. I’m not afraid to reach out to my indigenous community anymore. I’m not afraid to ask questions or to correct someone who may be misinformed on something. I’m not keeping silent anymore out of fear that my very existence will be the cause of offending someone. These are good things.

I keep an open mind when I listen. I feel where the other person comes from when they speak. I can respect passionate rants that aren’t harmful to others and that aren’t messages of hate and intolerance. I have courage to tune out, walk away, turn off or block out those who do spread hurtful messages. I don’t let it get under my skin anymore.

The love I feel is stronger than all of the hate in the world. The love I see and read about that others have and live their lives based upon is stronger than that. It brings me joy to see crowds of people gathered to stand up against injustice.

I know to unplug from time to time. Everyone should. We’re still allowed to laugh, enjoy ourselves, spend time not talking about it all for a bit, eat good food, go outside, etc. All strong warriors need breaks. All humans need breaks. It doesn’t mean we aren’t in the midst of a battle and that we’re losing focus from it. It means we nurture our souls and our spirits by allowing ourselves to experience some joy. Feeling good while you’re doing good helps the good. Right? So take a rest. Watch a funny film. Call or visit an old friend and laugh it up about the good ole days. Dance. Make some art. Sing. Keep your heart open. Feel love in all you do.

Sometimes I get so lost in my notebooks that my coffee has grown cold and hours pass and I’ll take a break and wonder what the heck I did and how the heck I did it. But that’s alright. Through all of this excruciating pain I’m dealing with, it’s nice to see my little accomplishments build up because too many times I struggle with feeling like a worthless burden on everyone I know and all of society or something. (It’s ridiculous to feel this way. I totally know. 🙂 ) Even if my only success of the week is a lot of pretty decent micropoems, it still makes me happy. 🙂

Have a good week everyone!

#MicropoetryMonday + Update! – January 16 – 22, 2017

Photo Courtesy of Motto – Women’s March on Washington

Hi everyone! I wanted to give a little update along with the micropoems for this week.

It’s been rainy here in Vegas which is totally awesome for our whole drought situation. I’m loving listening to it because it hardly ever rains all day like this. Barometric pressure changes that accompany storms can sometimes make my brain and body a little (or a lot) wonky, however. This has been the case this past week.

I had a few seizures that put me down for the count for a bit. I also had a bad nerve pain flare up and my sciatic nerve is especially suffering. It has its moments where I can find just the right position and not feel any pain but for the most part, I’m bound to my reclining chair. I can hardly walk or do much of anything. I’ve been trying to read little bits, write little poems where I can and I’ve started to binge watch The Magicians again before Season 2 starts on Wednesday. My husband, Jackson, has been a huge help to me and I’m so thankful for him. I can’t ever stop talking about how much I love and appreciate that wonderful man.

So, things I wanted to work on last week got pushed back. I still have time for another #BattleTheBeast entry and other than that no more deadlines as of now. I had to cancel some plans this past weekend too but it’s alright. When I’m feeling better, I can get out and do something fun. I did enjoy family dinner at the Lodge on Friday night though before the worst of the pains caught up to me.

It’s been a hard week anyway considering everything we’re all going through. Transition is the key word and it’s not just on a global level. I feel like many people are making personal transitions right now too. There’s a lot I want to write about but I’ll save it. I’ll hide it away in my poetry as per usual. My notebooks have been filling up since the last report of violence against water protectors at Standing Rock, the Inauguration protests, and the Women’s March. Writing is the only way I feel my voice matters, honestly. Even though I don’t feel it matters very much to anyone other than me. It’s enough that I purge it out.

I do have some good news to share. I have three poems in the March issue of Font Magazine (on sale February 15th) and this is the first time I’ve had poems published so I’m very excited about it. I will share links once they are available. I feel awesome that my hard work and determination to pursue publication again has paid off. I’m excited to keep submitting.

I hope everyone has a lovely week! Keep fighting the good fight!

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Photo Courtesy of UK Pop Art
Micropoems:


We ask not, want not
but life doles out 
its lemons as usual
Turn them into 
sugar sweet nectar
          -or-
Throw them at people
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lunch notes from mother
love & encouragement
in scrawled crayon
too young to understand
i’m older now
i miss being told
“you can”
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I wanted hair
like the TV news ladies
as a child
because they were like
the auras around 
the pictures
of the saints
I wanted 
so badly
to be good
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I’m weightless
& heavy hearted
A conundrum,
I know
So is this business
you started 
The world’s watching,
waiting
True colors
always show
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Old songs
lead the dance
in a trance
Greet new dawn,
new light
in your hands
The past is gone,
so here & now
take your stance
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Every afternoon I wake up
hoping against hope
that I won’t have another night
afraid to close my eyes
Can’t look away
Can’t un-hear cries
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I.
Soul brother
he’s strumming a tune
on the windowsill
I’m down below
waving
to get his attention
He’s too into the song
So I croon along
II.
He digs the sound
Says he’ll be right down
But I’m on my way up already
We meet halfway
He starts to play
We sing a morning medley
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“Picture”
A picture worth a thousand pains
A thousand laugh lines
on a hackneyed face
A face indifferent
with no name
Fragile weathered frame
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Time’s run out
‘Tis the hour
Debt is due
Shortchanged deals
turn sour
Broken agreements ignite
Guilt burns the streets tonight
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Nerve pain shooting down my spine
like scissors skipping
in jagged lines
Sawed in half
Brittle bones shake
Explosions every step I take
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“Sound of Silence”
Never dreamed the sound of silence
would be so deafening, terrifying
When it’s just me, echoing in my head
I hear darkness ringing
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“Fantasia”
Of all the magical, fantastical worlds,
Fantasia is my favorite
My first escape
as a little girl
& to this day
I still savor it 
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“Worth”
They divvied up the faithless,
measured in self-worth
Scattered them like stardust
all over the Earth
Once diamonds,
now dirt
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“Change”
Change is coming 
The winds tell me so
How much? How little?
Only time knows
Whose pockets will be emptied?
Whose will overflow?
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“Behind My Mask”
What’s behind my mask?
Failing organs
Nerve trauma
Oh, not that face
Not the pity look
You’re right
You shouldn’t have asked
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Puddle jumping–
Silver fish in sunflower slickers
Shiny apple galoshes 
making ripples
Hiding behind dripping pigtails
all the way home
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Haiku:





My mind- in tune bloom;
Laid open, a spring flower
Survives winter’s crush
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Fingers tiptoeing,
balancing on delicate
strands of tightrope hair
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“Pure Magic”
I ached to see the
sky the way my old man did:
“It’s pure magic, man”
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VSS: (very short stories)


Movie Still from ‘H.’





“When”
He knew he was alive.
But he couldn’t remember when.
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“From H.”
The event occurred. No one remembered. No one woke up.
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“Doors”
She smiles for the world,
but cries behind closed doors.
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#BattleTheBeast Contest Entry 1

I’m so excited! I finished and submitted an entry to The Magicians short story contest on Wattpad. You can check it out by clicking the link below:

https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/96587463-time-honored-tradition

I’m going to be working on another entry this week. It’s nice to have a good flow again.

Have a great week, everyone! Happy Monday!

#MicropoetryMonday – January 9 – 15, 2017

Here’s all of the micropoems I’ve written this past week! Some were previously shared on Twitter & others are brand new! Enjoy!

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Photo Courtesy of Angmara Photography

“Blackboard of Death”

In eternal sleep
you’re urged to keep
wiping clean
your chalkdust sins
’til what’s buried deep is gleaned

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Her letter was lilac laced
A hint of crimson
Marked her signature
A reminder,
A piece of the price she’d pay
To conceal secrets

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Candy “with a K”
majored in chemical dependency
Easily unwrapped,
saccharin blooded
She chewed boys up & spit them out,
Her specialty

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Queen of Cups divines
gaps in her love’s sentimental lines
Silence tells of his crimes
So, over wine, she inquires
what they mean

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wandering mind
connects star puzzles,
looks for road signs in the sky

flies too high,
catches a cosmic train home
just in time

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Loving her was a mystic rite
An Invitation Only Initiation
To be branded with her signet every night
‘Twas worth the tribulations

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Haiku:

You can keep those storms
to yourself. Clashing hurricanes.
War tornadoes.

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You’re all too scary
Your mouths don’t match your faces
I can’t read your fonts

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Left behind; an
abandoned instrument. Unplayed
because music died.

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If I’m a machine
I need an update, a re-
wiring of my code

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“Melancholic Nourishment”

Starving soul vampires
satiated by sadness
sup sobbing spirits

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Silver snow flurries
skip, float, hop across cheekbones;
Just a touch of joy

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People protest pro-
found punch-drunk paradoxes.
Pity partisans.

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Every time I feel
good I’m afraid to sleep for
fear of ruining it

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“Perfect Pearl”

Guarded. All clammed shut.
Inside shines a perfect pearl.
Come on. Open up.

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Still from “Heavenly Creatures”

VSS (Very Short Stories):

“Brilliant”

They’d learn. She’d murder anyone
unappreciative of her brilliant ideas.

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“Compass”

Internal direction guides inner purpose.
Moral compasses aid in choice.

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I had to fly once my wings popped.
I just took off, too. They said I let
the whole world down. How could
I care, though?

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“Sunrise”

Another toss and turn night.
Asleep after sunrise once again.

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“Flowers”

Phantom smells of flowers and
fire force my eyelids open.

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Having a Weekend

Vernors fuels my editing process

I don’t have much concept of time. The sun rises. The sun sets. It’s day. It’s night. There are times when it’s always night because a sleep pattern for me is nonexistent. I have a DVR for when I forget that things I want to watch are on. I set alarms when I absolutely need to, which is rarely.

I let my mind do what it does and my body do what it needs to do. Set schedules stress me out but once I gave up on them I started getting way more done. (I can’t figure this out. I won’t even try.)

I had a busy week of writing and editing. A lot of Twitter microprompts jumped out at me, I’ve polished a lot of poems written in November and December and kept up with email correspondence with ease. I made one of my personal deadlines early and surprised myself by submitting another piece with plans for more work to be sent out next week.

I have writing to start next week for February Deadline #2 but I have a lot of confidence that once I begin, I’ll breeze through. (The outlines are finished so that’s why I’m so confident. 🙂 ) I’m going to do my best to just take a weekend and not work on anything. Sometimes things just have to be written down, but I’m not going to set aside time to work for the next couple of days. Instead, I’m going to catch up on my reading. I’m reading Jess Walter’s “Beautiful Ruins” right now and I’m loving it. I’m also working my way through James Merrill’s poetry collection. I have a stack of books on my dresser to get to. I have Louise Erdrich waiting patiently for me and my library finally got a copy of “House of Leaves” by Mark Z. Danielewski in for me. (I have been waiting for forever to read it!)

My husband is off this weekend too and we have family plans on Sunday. I’m so thankful for him and how helpful he has been to me. He’s a good editor and he guides me through tedious technical difficulties I may have while formatting documents, etc. When I walk away, feeling myself starting to have trouble breathing over frustration, I’ll walk back over and he’s already fixed what needed fixing and helps calm me down. He’s very supportive and very encouraging and I thank him. I couldn’t have dreamed of finding a better soulmate. 🙂

Time to rest and relax for the rest of this Friday evening. I hope you all have a fantastic weekend!

#MicropoetryMonday – January 2 – 8, 2017

Here’s all of the micropoems I’ve written this past week! Some were previously shared on Twitter & others are brand new! Enjoy!

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Ack! I feel panicked,
all the static,
unnecessary. 
It’s falling off the edge
into the unknown that’s so scary.
New Year. Same me. Wild.
Nomadic.
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The younger generation
would rather fight
with the older one. Us
tweeners (in-betweeners)
sit here in disbelief.  We’re
strengthening our vision
muscles with all the
eyerolling.
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“Statue”

It was too still. 
I wished you a good sleep & 
you listened. 
For once, you heard me. 
Do voices reach you now, statue? 
Cold as stone.
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“New Beginnings”
Through the door
we spoke of fresh starts,
our new beginnings
What of old beginnings?
What about the walls we put up
to get here?
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“Caress”
Constellations
form
on the small of your back
to me
I reach out
barely
touching you
A starry eyed,
cold shoulder caress
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Tiptoe the delicate thread
 of life 
Where
leaning too far either way
throws you off
 Balance
despite & in spite of the chaos
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Fall in formation
with the dear, darling drones
Commonplace captives,
Slaves to phones
Swapping screens for skin,
Tones for bones
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Your presence-
the top of your eyelids
behind the newspaper-
makes time between stops
more bearable & I’m a long way from home
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“Games”
Sharper wit, broken claws,
 -a cold & empty cage
A full bellied feline-
the only evidence left behind
of these cat & mouse games
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Haiku:
I was smitten by
her sparkling eyes and
the stories they could tell me
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Haunted enchantment–
that glimmer in your eye was
terribly soothing
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It was the breath of
his first kiss that awakened
her soul’s native tongue
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VSS (Very Short Stories):
The planchette covered wall confused him.
“It’s the eye that matters, the window,”
Seer says.
“They let us glimpse them. Don’t forget.”
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“Eyes”
Miraculously, I glimpsed the beast’s eyes before they devoured me.
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