that's mrs. mediocrity to you

you know what you were meant to do
you know it in your
heart and you refuse
to listen
just exactly the same way
you never listen to the wind
in the trees at night
whispering moon love to the owl
the way you tilt your head and pause
when thunder rumbles
but never when the sky is blue
the way you walk past that same
dirty penny six days in a row
and never stoop to pick it up
you know what you were meant to do

sit down upon a rock and stay

until your back breaks

your palms bleed

your heart cracks open

every answer you need
will run down

down

through the fingers of hope
cupped to hold them

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

this lake this forest these trees

i see nothing i see everything i can’t hear a thing for all this

noise

this deafening

silence

these colors all drawn in black and white and red all over

and i bleed

i cry

i close eyes i’ve never opened

i build castles in sand made from glass

throw stones into the fire

this blistering brilliant fire

shadows dance in the embers

crickle cracked red hot

embers

remember

the ghost shape of branches

the geometry of lumber

shelter

the diaphanous

pretender

this lake this forest these trees

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Linking up today with dVerse poets for Meeting the Bar and some postmodernism, join us!

::

birds become leaves

blown fast from trees

in a hurricane of light

::

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.

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My small stone for Mindful Writing Day. Join in here.

in a world filled with too many choices
how do we ever decide?

and why is the apple always drawn
to the battle of good versus evil?

adam and eve, snow white and
the wicked, hello my little pretty
and one bad can ruin the barrel,
crab and golden, eye and pie
caramel candy truths and
half-baked sugar coating

delicious, filled with life and seed
s(k)in and marrow

i wonder, tiny orb, as you hang
from your dreary tree of ornament,
why i was drawn to you and not
all the others, those brothers

of fall and folly and, of course,
you do not answer, being all ripe
and ready for the picking

you hold no wisdom beneath
the blush of skin, just beautysinbeauty
and the flavor of earth
in your heart.

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

::

all

she ever

thought about

was

destiny

::

no one ever said it was going to make sense, this life. and yet, we try to make it so.

when things get too crazy (and things have gotten very crazy), i turn to nature for comfort, trees for solace, fresh air to move fresh thoughts through my mind.

i find all the beauty i need in a single crab apple hanging low against a backdrop of fall colors. a flower fighting to stay in bloom despite cool days and colder nights. a crow landing on the very tiptop of a newly-bare tree, watching.

this is the world i walk through best, a world where silence means breezes and bird calls, and solitude means surrounded by forest. if i could live in this world all the time, i would. but this is life, and there are other things that must be done, and so, of course, i must walk down streets filled with people, buildings, politics, trash.

i have the heart of a hermit and the mind of a citizen. and in my dream of dreams, the soul of a poet.

i can be silent forever. and then i must speak.

i’ve never been very good at fitting into boxes, or groups, or categories, or round holes. in high school, i never managed to belong to any one of the dozens of cliques that formed my social landscape. i could walk through occasionally, mingle, say hello. but always, in the end, i was the lone tree standing just off to one side, watching. back then, it broke my heart. left me wondering what was wrong with me.

of course, now, i know, and i accept, my introversion. i no longer fight it. i no longer wish to be someone other, though considering the possibilities as stories in my head can be quite entertaining.

i am who i am, and i have reached the age where i can say that without cringing. i am multi-faceted, with many, many flaws and imperfections. i am no diamond in the rough, no emerald, no ruby. my kind of jewels hang from branches and stems. all the magic in my world comes from love and living.

my heart is always on my sleeve, where i can hear each beat, beat, beat.

it is how i know i am alive.

with the posture of a perfect impostor
the kind that can look you in the eye and make you see
blue
when it has already been established
that green is the color
of tomorrow

and

i want to kiss your neck
nuzzle in a little
settle down

get to know what makes you

tick

tock

and which words are your favorite

but of course
we both know
you have already
erased them

covered them over
with hatch marks and
strips of black
marker

no looking back
no turning the page
no deciphering
because

everything you say
is code for someone
who isn’t
gone
yet

.

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!

::

learning

to love

my scars and

wrinkles

isn’t easy,

but it is

interesting

::

This is the view from my couch, the door leading upstairs.
The other night, as I lay on my couch (moaning) because
I could barely walk after having spent the weekend
installing a new kitchen floor, this is the pattern
that was created by the sun streaming through the windows.

24.

X marks the spot.

24 times.

So then, of course, I had to start wondering…. 24 what?

24 words, 24 chapters, 24 people to miss.

24 years, 24 days, 24 hours.

I like that one the best. 24 hours.

I think that was it. A simple reminder.

There is only ever today.

And I am here.

when i was young
it was a well-known fact
that i was the girl
who tripped over the pattern
on the kitchen floor

always falling in puddles
bumping into walls
stubbing toes and once
breaking my arm
while getting out
of the bathtub

these days
i’ve learned to navigate
a little better as i stand upright
but i find things in my basement
i’d forgotten i had
and i see myself spending years
tossing promises and
possessions

making space
that i fill with more

space

hollow bones

unchartered maps

vessels to carry me

forward

and this weekend
i installed a new floor
just like the old one except
i turned the pattern on its side

and now i wonder
what will happen

next

.

.

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night, join us!