#MicropoetryMonday – May 1 – 7, 2017

I hope you enjoy all of the poems from last week! Be sure to check out my other blog posts from last week to read the longer poems that have been selected to be featured in Echoic Magazine and Helen Magazine. 

I’m working on some submissions this week and since my energy levels have taken a drastic nosedive, I’ll be spending a lot of time reading. I have a Nikki Giovanni poetry book I’m excited to delve into. 

Have a good one, everyone!

An affordable comfort
I can hear you
By myself
I can breathe you in
Quiet heart and mind
Making room to let you in


Kiss me under Venus
but only at dawn if it’s
the last time

I don’t want a sleepless night
under twinkling reminders


She wasn’t rattled
by tubes,
monitors blaring
like a countdown
or early smell
of formaldehyde
Just by grey eyes
like wool blankets


We follow a path of wild strawberries
to a hidden cove by the creek,
Spend the afternoon falling into
an endless love so sweet


Round the May pole
the fae frolic
for this is a joyous day
The sun, the rose, the dragonflies
all join in the fray
Spring play


Cornflower canvas,
a vast sky
to paint plans on
I can
keep the
rain clouds
at bay
with brushstrokes
is a trick
I fall for
every time


Diamonds on horizons

Squinting in the presence
of shimmering angels

Dancing along the
Gulf coast    You said
your sunrises were immaculate


The battle for daylight
The sun & the moon
Prime for equinox
Mischievous time trips
Star confusion
Glittering clouds


desert heat
will inspire
a resistance

a muted bit
of might
will rise up
& fight
the hell
of summer swell


speckled with thoughts,
inaccurate accounts,
& pure fantasy
That’s the poet at play
The writer works
to make sense of it all


Tattered sails
stay strong

Even though

Seems an
offing away

Hearts on the horizon,
tested love urges on


I think of you
as my fondest shadow
When dark worlds mixed
we were poison disguised as delight
Sweet to the taste & touch,
death by midnight


Your wings
outgrew us,
so you heeded the call of the stars
We fell,
You flew to the distant cosmos
leaving us
in moonlit turmoil
Stuttering in the sunflowers
Better to breakdown
in a place of beauty
Swift wind, quick tempers
Car door slams, echoing
off barren canyons
Windswept smoke trails
lead to the way things were
No hunger for greed,
abuse of the land,
And no more
ghosts of tears
in trees
Matron of Mystery
snaps emerald fingernails
and men line up
with heaps of hope to
unmask the enchanting lady
under the veil

From Hannibal Rising (2007)

He would ease the sting of injections
with soft words, violin music, and
exotic gestures
before the feast
of your flesh
Hesitating at the edge
of dreams come true
& pits of doubt
Take a chance on life’s dance
& soar
Dive deep into the ocean within
Sweet tooth kisses,
candy coated caresses
Sugar lips
soothe a sour soul
The best true stories make you cry,
shake, rattle, & roll
your foundation,
your soul
No need to involve you
just invoke you,
provoke you
Night swims
Moon mermaids
The community pool
was a secret midnight savior
We held the key
in a wink
of sleep deprived eyes
Reflections of you
in ponds,
in foreign towns
after you’ve gone
You’re me now
I’m you
Same body type, temperament
I’m honored
I’d watch him blunder about,
a precocious dogfish,
slithering smirk
behind his spiny fin flashing,
blinding the girls with bling
Float thru every room,
(there aren’t that many)
Pick up random objects
to see which tells a story
Never mind the ones
screaming in your head
An inner storm
struck near the cliff
We held our breath
knowing our waylaid attempts
could never save
a warrior on a mission
Glow of morning
over treetops
A warming calm
painting the sky
I drink from
the fountain
I’ve arrived
after fighting deadly night
May morning mocks me
I’m millions of miles away
from my mistakes
Mad, marooned, menacing monuments
mace me with mimicry
Off day
The physical body binds a mind at times
A vision of accomplishment
thwarted by
aches and a toxic bloodstream
wearing me down
Showers of love and lilies
Easter white dresses for a rebirth
The girls line up like crooked teeth
Sentient angels on guard
Cassiopeia’s mirror told lies
Bad luck be damned
she shattered it
Years later
waning beauty
She remembers
Fitting punishment
From ‘Genius’ on National Geographic Channel (2017)
She was no delicate damsel,
but a hurricane
His new venture,
wooing women in libraries,
Abandoned when he saw her
over boiling Bunsen burner
Split screens, shadows
Stressed girls
 gather at the gallows
Dual identities
Opposites attract
A best enemy will subtly
stab you in the back
Inner workings
Aged processing
Slow, careful
Experience teaches
those who listen
& pay attention
to what they’re
paying attention to
She swept in,
leaving all spellbound,
then flew away
In her absence,
patience burned
under skin
teased by her magical
Tell that invisible tormentor
to kindly stop kicking me

They say skin holds
more memory than the brain

I have to believe
in ghosts of pain


These are our future memories,

here & now;

I love the grey, cloudy day on your face

& the promise of your kisses

as I wake


Cup of tacks
flows through the system

Jagged filters
cut from the inside, the outside

Running deep
into shallow ends of forgotten spaces


Lacking the strength
to dig
for the sanctuary
of the underground
Up from the Earth
they will rise
& fade in billows of thick smoke


Painted faceless phantoms
on the back of eyelids
Dreams are set in a far away galaxy
where you are the dying planet
saving itself


A road trip
with all your
previous selves
emerald fields
& missing the lake
that used to be

A prism dangles from rearview


I jumped a mile
Scream stuck in throat,
heart on the ground
a warbling sound
meant I wasn’t alone
in the darkness


They lived for going
against the grain
but they were all the same
blending into one
mediocre mosaic
meandering through


She was snug
as a Junebug
in a rug
trapped by the tentacles
of her dark past
under the sea
green with envy
Seven sisters carry her
to shore


as rare as snowfall in summer
guaranteed like rise & fall
of a swallowing sea
Lasting impressions
The room ballooned
There was no air to give
To get
out of a room
where you
are the guest of honor
is crucial
to consciousness
alluring echoes
of a fireside frenzy
draw night’s attention
to a conjuring circle
of all that is
the moon hides
behind sky
of an impassioned heart
Abused by prison
Torn apart
Pressed to tell
of things more interesting,
she spills forth Hell

There are teeth
in the street
in this place
They fall like pearls
on a cold ballroom
We should’ve just stayed
in dancehall days
I am
A well run dry
   so suddenly
On the desert roadside
furiously scribbling
a shadowy soliloquy
in shifting sands
We’d cover our walls
with magazine ads
for the glamour,
for the shadows,
the imagery,
the dull faces,
bright eyes
& doctored truth

The soul desires
more than I have the energy
to feed it
It sits up
on a mountain
I tell stories all the way to the top


At home
we understood
the importance
of firewood
and forever
the trees
for keeping
us warm

And helping
us breathe



The only time sight of daylight
is acceptable to me

I think of my last taste
of winter’s turn
Forlorn longing burns


Tequila sunrise
 brought us together
Perfectly crafted
Sour and sweet
You were the same way
Nice on the tongue
 burning in my gut


At my loneliest
a moth at twilight reminds me
That you listen
when I scream inside
& I’ll see you again
in the time after time


humming of angels

their wings looked
like old hallucinations

those little sparklers
I saw with my owl eyes
before I met the dead


Brewing below
the surface of
external suffering,

shockwaves stockpile
at the epicentre

How long before it erupts?


Last minute invite
to the fancy party

Not my scene
I remain unseen

I’m in a cubby
researching saints

and praying for


You destroyed all remnants
   of your bitter childhood
Held your playthings
   too close to the flame
Melting off the plastic face
You cut us a window
with a view
with an Ex-acto
Painted fields of seasons
with crisp crimson leaves
with slashing and bitter snow
Valley reminiscing
Wild days we thought would never end
The orange light that fell
over the porch the morning I lost sleep
Tom Petty’s voice
on a desert spring morning
way too early
and before coffee
sounds like the Grand Canyon
All rust, copper, & gold
Do you remember them all
like a ring of roses
each a jewel
in a crown
on your head
circling around
your bed?
Do you remember
all they said?
A lilac sky teases change
Distant relatives
have had enough of the rain
I hear omens in the space between births
Somewhere a heartbeat stops

on a polyphonic journey
Deciphering dream codes
for my mother
Catching falling feathers,
speaking the language
before we fade away
A volcano found me
It hides inside my belly
For years, it lay dormant
Then I was poisoned
by its anger and tendency
for violent eruptions
Little dalliances
with broken characters
who can’t quite sate
my desire for the truth
of the worst of the monsters
and darkness inside us all
Lock disappointments in a room
to fester
& try to forget them
They’ll fuse with fragments
of forgotten disgrace
& feel just like your face

Shed tears,
refusing to mix
with the ruined gorgeousness
of once thriving fields
of spilt oil,
only helped clear
smoke from sad eyes
Behind the door
the queen
seeks allies
only to be
by her own
lack of knowledge
They taught
how to trust
but not whom
The stick time
she calls it
Most make wishes
but she
thinks of all
her soldiers
who never came home
Especially those still here
Placing pearls around her neck-
the once wailing widow,
now a marble statue
adorned with an heirloom
rooted in loss-
I feel it’s not enough
I tried to find a kindred spirit in wild horses
I read Black Beauty with deep intent
I put myself in a saddle,
Then fell off quickly
No incision
or split decision
can bring her back
Her words
I’ll remember
Not her
chest cavity
filled w
butterflies & blackbirds
The desert is here for me
I will surrender to its scorch
I’ll emerge transformed,
a sun spirit
I will have raked the coals
with tired feet 
Creeping vines
in the neon green lights
This basement
was not a good place to be tonight
Move slow,
tendrils beckon in the glow
dance to forget
that you don’t know how
rhythm is subjective
let the soul decide
your own ebb and flow
and move with it
by what’s to come
like I know
or expect
at all
to happen
It’s silly
It’s what happens
when Now is
so foreboding
The rise and fall
of intensity
Pressure levels
increase and inevitably crash
A silken touch
is only a breath away

‘The Martyrdom of St. Dymphna and St. Gerebernus – 
Gerard Seghers

Last night
I was visited
by the ghost
of St. Dymphna
Her ruby red halo
spoke of the power
of escaping
louder than
her wispy voice
Right place
Right time
I held her
Spun pixie tales out of horror
I took the night’s foul memory
Turned it into something golden
wandering children
birthed of anger and apathy
running around the globe
terrified and unsure
of the safety of anywhere
called home
Post rain
rhododendron renaissance
Drizzled droplets
remain amongst
Fern brambles
and honeydew
Skin aflame
nerve pinch
muscles are
bruises are muscles
are bruises
Thorny sinew
strings of suffering
fill my
with silk flowers
She’s muted
Not for humble presence,
secret keeping,
or lack of enlightenment
but for the tongue numbing
reality of the situation
His madness
was fleeting
and she
would forever torment him
to catch just a glimpse
of it again
at its finest,
Catching comets
for pockets
with black holes
Your moonbeam smile,
so worthwhile,
to keep cruising thru
this space storm
It was me,
in watercolor
Fine lines,
a jagged kaleidoscope
Upon his canvas
so grey with loneliness
After the turquoise gloaming,
when birds begin bantering,
I stand still,
tricking my photosensitive eyes
into staring too long at the sun
There seems to be
an obsessive need
to throw your pennies,
two cents
to be exact,
at everyone
and everything
these days
No risk reward
in chasing the dreams
of my fathers
I had to fly,
find my own mistakes
Wake up
in nightmares
of abandonment
every drowned thought
I ever had

How many inspirations
did I flush, drop in puddles,
burn or bury?



The dawn spirits came in with the fog
Night conquered,
they rose like an ocean tide
reaching for lost souls
with cloud fingers


Silk waves-
Hair cascades
Down my mother’s back
or in her face
as we dropped oceans
from our eyes
over the graves-
Earthen soil

There’s things I miss

Your sea storms,
cryptic chaos,
falling into the abyss

I prefer my calm universe now

Just as it is



Strangers armed with salt
jokes that are dangerous weapons
poured on my wounds

“Tomb of Stars”

midnight sky and the
winter constellations;
his final resting place


Build a story
around a quest for freedom,
Lie about the ending

VSS (Very Short Stories):

She remains steadfast
through the swarms of obstacles 
and treacherous gales of life
with her inner fire as her guide.
When dawn shone her glory down
on the city that never slept, 
I found myself longing for the woods.

She said a promise was
a lie wrapped in ribbons.
It’s never quiet in this valley.
Sometimes, while waiting for the last bit of sun to go down,
I imagine it natural & empty.

She patched the leaks. The little boat was seaworthy. She’d stay afloat, despite the rising tide. Arms trembling, she rows on.

The truth is
I gave all I had
and it still
wasn’t enough.

Do you feel safe out here? Keyboard barricades. Recurrent screens you can see yourself in. Below surfaces we hardly think of, danger lurks.
Spontaneity is best. So if I just randomly combust & revive & collect my own ashes, can I create then? Can I birth forth a worthwhile life?
We left Ma with unanswered questions.
Big mistake.
She was out of breath, the house spotless when we returned.
Ma never sat still when she worried.
WIP (Works in Progress):

“Living is a disease. Look around you. Doesn’t this world just make you sick?”

I pushed my bowl away. I suddenly had no appetite anymore.


–“I’ve been showering for hours. I accidentally fell asleep with cable news on. Woke up in grossness. Now I feel I can’t get clean enough.”
I was the new kid frantically searching for the slightest hint of a northern accent.
“I’m from Indiana,” she said. Close enough.

I can tell by the way the snow falls and how bricks of buildings look if a film takes place in my home town. I look for the familiar blue plates on cars and cry when I’m right.
The bolder their statements the harder it was for me to stifle my giggles. Rowan elbowed me in the ribs attempting to shush me.

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