Poetry- Second Drafts


Out in the street they take over

My mind begging me all day

In the sun they all burn away

From ashes to fire they creep

At night, under the moon

I have my thoughts to myself

And I breathe,

And I drink,

And I play.

And I pray.

I pray to the Goddess

Oh high above

Asking for my own separate love

A love that I crave

A love that I deny

A love that I am owed

And for myself alone,

I raise a glass in prayer to her in wait for an answer.

And I wait.

And I wait.

And I wait.

And I,


Forbidden Forest

Gazed and charred-

This bark peels bare.

A litany of trees now lost,

The ash of leaves float down.

A shameful sky obscured by black

Hidden in these sinking roots,

Lies a spark eager to relight-

A spark of vicious flame,

One shoved down long ago

In anger, in shame, in guilt.

Be cautious now,

Spring will not awaken under sin

Behind Perdition, no forest grows

The spark, it will still creep

Stay weary now,

Reflect under the fireflies,

Repent under the painted sky-

Await the healing rains.

As each shaft fades,

So too, will your charcoal remains.

Turn a Blind eye

Black, slanted blinds

Timid to a dreary view

Outside rests, a single tee

Whereupon sits a single bird.

A dark creature pecking at a fearful leaf

Whose meal lies limp from droplets rolled

With rusted reds rolling downhill

Onto its feathered brethren

Soon the tree will be bare with-

Only a bird to care.

This scene, although timeworn to me

Wears me down through all my bones

A memory overcome by fog

Fraught with torrents of distress

This slicing gale moves me

Yet, like the bead of a crow-

I stand hesitant and watchful.

Overwhelming whispers rise through

And with my marionette led by many hands,

The blinds are shut and candles lit

But I slip

One last peak to the lonely storm

And I breathe,

The other window will remain open tonight.

Bath time

The only time I do not exist

Is when I lay in water.

The edge of my skin,

Is the edge of the tub

Every wave sliding over me

Is a touch to surround

Every bubble tickling against me

Is a breath to stir

The surface of the water

Slices straight through

Where have I disappeared to?

My body is no longer mine

My mind sobs in envy,

How will I ever leave this place?

The tears simply fall into the water that is me

The Toad

Once I ate a toad.

Spent my day jumping around

From pad to pad.

Built up quite the layer of slime you see

I would slip from hand to hand

Oh the slime!

How it reeked of rotted fruit

I hopped to the sink to

Float in a pool of water and soap

Cleansed of the slime, I rinsed my back

Over and over again till I croaked all clean and dry

Oh the slime!

Was left behind to sour

Then I hopped and hopped around some more

Till one day, I happ’d-not by chance mind you-

On the town next door.

Where I met a skinny lad,

Who grabbed me round my lumpy throat

He said,

“I think I’ll eat your big fat head!”

He threw me in the boiling pot

How I wish I had not bathed,

For now I could not slip away!

Spring is Upon Us

Green is the cape of death

So Spring must be its funeral

Luring the innocent

To its fatal floral fields

The grass stabs through the Earth,

Knives into your feet

Flowers thrive through suicidal whispers

Meant for insect hearts to feast

Trees heave in pain

As blooming buds tear through

Clouds, now drained of life cry,

“Oh what hot Hell the sun condemns!”

Things you need:

· Wealth

· Work

· Romance

· Relationship

· Familiarity

· Family

· Peace

· Patience

· Compliments

· A Genie


I haven’t been seen since I was a young girl

dead as an 18 year shell

I live in the clouds behind glass walls

Shatter shatter

Would not be a crime

The walls are broken,

I have never felt more trapped

I haven’t been heard since I was a young girl

lost my voice in an 18 year song

I speak through a microphone

Crackle crackle

Would not be the end

The power is out,

nothing has changed


You stripped her petals bare

Forced the thorns heated glare

For you a simple winter,

Melted snow for show and tell.

Tell me, do you prance and preen in her melted ice château?

Her leaves still buried in its frozen ruins,

Brown leaves worn brittle grey.

O Winter Rose

So sweet and subtle

How her red has withered

Cold and dead in winter.

She still shivers when a winter shows

Droplets, how they will glisten,

Freezing to her shattered soul.

One ray for each broken day

Will remove the salt from soil.

She will never close her eyes to a passionate sun

While your summer sweetens brightly every time

Your Scythe did prune her, and soon a

Budding rose will consume her.

I am a winter rose.

Crushed and frozen.

Few petals now remain.


There is a woman,

A woman who birthed me –

I laid on her breast

Suckled the sweet life she fed me.

There is a woman,

A woman who struck me –

I laid on her knee

Suckled the harsh words she fed me.

There is a woman,

A woman who buried me –

I laid on her feet

Suckled the cold silence she fed me.

There was a girl,

A girl who was pushed to death –

I rose from my dirt filled grave to

Walk my first mile away.

An Empty Glass

Britain’s Got Talent is on the T.V., another contestant got booted off. They were probably good enough to stay, just not enough to entertain. I was sitting on the couch, holding my half empty glass of scotch- third one of the night. I said I would stop drinking, they told me too. I also said I’d lose 10 pounds. The taste is bitter and watered down by five ice cubes. Five. That’s too many for a small glass, but I’m not home alone. Another commercial comes on, I couldn’t tell you what they’re selling It’s not like I pay any attention. I’m standing in the hallway now my back to my brother’s trophy shelf O my head aches maybe I should stop it’s easier to drink O the T.V is noisy always judging an act Now I’m back on the couch my feet are dangling off the edge my glass of scotch sits empty on the floor its melting ice slithers lower and lower begging for more scotch to fill up its walls — a mark of lipstick marks the rim mom always said to keep the dishes clean.


Your body, now emptied of a soul

lies stiff and plain

paler than your memory

now flitting through my brain

and how your blanket of white satin

spread across your face

makes my lungs squeeze till,

I’m forced to breathe in deep

all my thoughts seem to disappear

as an arctic wave chills any hope within

I cannot move a muscle

as my knees buckle in

Death may have embraced you, but to me he turns his cheek


I light the match

Hold it to the tiny wick

The flame is born

Too bright

The whispers blow out the flame

My words coax it back

Not hot enough

The whispers dowse the flame

My words relight its soaking cord

Nobody wants this light

The whispers extinguish the flame

I do.

I want the flame.

I want the light.

I want the heat.

I light the match to my body

Step up to the Flame’s grave

And I dive right in.

Last thoughts

See, I’ve packed an empty suitcase-

With its weight dragging down my pace

I think I’ll go to Nowhere.

It seems I cannot go

I’ve forgotten a shirt,

And shorts,

And a hairbrush

All quite vital to go inside this empty suitcase

I should go to Nowhere.

It’s a place you cannot see

There, waterfalls are empty

With rivers flowing free

Babies never grow,

To tell you how to be.

Well, I cannot go now

I will tell you my reason

Yes, I will tell you my reason now-

See I, am busy

Yes. Busy you see.

I must go to Nowhere.

In Nowhere, band aids are not vital

And thoughts aren’t charged a fee.

My mind is cracking silly

Off I go to the Necktie Tree.