I look to lofty mountain peaks
Silhouetted in the starry sky
But when its walls I near to be
I shy to touch and fear to climb
Such beauty I imagine at its Everest
Such warmth basking close to the sun
But as I stroll past its borders
I pass by
And run
God paves the path in rose petals
With every blessed sign
But I take the fork, hands over my eyes
In the end, I suppose, too scared to try
Composed 2/16/19
Composed 11/19/17
Description: Not so subtly inspired by my last post.
Don’t fear me
I have a disarming smile
And a degree in reflective listening
I was raised and trained with a customer service philosophy
I will not raise my voice
I will not contradict
So don’t fear me
Fear my pen
If you are rude or condescending
If you cloak yourself in arrogance and embrace ignorance
You will be a victim of the written word
Woven into rhyme, metaphor, and simile in my poetry
Masking your identity and yet
When in some happenstance you read
These rhymes and vague-told stories
I hope it makes you feel somehow, distinctly
Uneasy
Composed 11/9/17
Description: Inspired by today’s Daily Prompt: Gingerly.
With you there’s only eggshells
For you are an electric fire
Any prodding emits sparks
Water begets electrocution
Discussion – only more smoke
More tears
I fear
So I just bury you in sand and walk on eggshells
So oft I’ve tread these paths
Most times I don’t even feel
Composed 8/17/16
Description: For today’s Daily Prompt: Ghost. I have written about ghosts in various intensities many times (see some here and here), but this time it is inspired by some fears that have become particularly salient today.
as the leaves shrivel and
the breezes return the
ghosts slip through the cracks in waves and
rest on my shoulder
breathing fear onto my neck
their deep, raspy voices whisper doubts into my ear
suddenly
my body is poison
my mind a thundering electric storm
it’s all I can do to curl up hold on and
stop myself from retching all of me
I shrivel with the leaves
shiver with the breeze
but
not all ghosts are demons
with the light comes
color and some warmth
the waves of evil spirits halt and
the messengers gently descend on their beams of sunlight
and I remember
I have conquered this evil before
why else do they
feel the need to
scare me?
Composed 4/11/16
Description: For Day 11 of NaPoWriMo. A fun little story based on true events. An all too-common occurrence, I’m afraid.
The room has been swept of clutter
Clothes hung and tucked away in drawers
The others have vanished into their room for slumber
And I recline on the bare carpet
Reveling in minimalism and peace
The reward of a good housekeeper
The cookie-color ceiling holds a surprise
There
A black dot
But bigger than a dot
Yes the menace hovers above desk and bed
Waiting for his unsuspecting prey
But not today
A deep breath
Boot in hand
I stand on precarious desk and chair
I swat
It falls
I run for the hills
But it has fallen
Dead
Onto the desk
I sweep it up
And listen to the sound of the flush
The reward of a fine warrior
Composed 12/21/15
Description: For today’s Daily Prompt: Share the story of a time you felt unsafe.
Trusting I put my life in
Your hand but you grab
Not the wheel but your
Lover your cocaine your
Ever present addictions
If you fail to value your
Own life can you not set
Aside pleasure for mine
When eyes flit away
I fear hit distrust dislike
Composed 9/1/15
Description: It has been awhile since I’ve posted, but I have been doing some writing. Largely my lack of activity is due the struggle of transitioning to grad school and re-balancing work with school and whatever remains of my social life. However, school has been good so far; I’m working on a Masters in Social Work. For my “intro/immersion” class I actually got to write a poem for extra credit! Rad, right?
The theme of the project was “what does social work mean to me?” Thus, this poem was born.
Have you ever heard a baby’s first cry?
Or witnessed the mist of a father’s last sigh?
Wandered streets shaking without cold
Have you cringed in the night when nobody knows?
If you have you have known
Fear
Fear of uncertainty
Fear of being alone
It consumes, layers everything
But afraid?
It’s not what you have to be
The night is dark
And the trail is rigged
And the forest is in tangles
Trees dripping with hate and red tape
But for some reason
They gave me a flashlight
And I can get my hands on the map
So it seems that I could be your guide
Can I walk you through the maze?
If it makes your journey easier
I’d like to try
I just can’t leave you standing there
When it’s all here in my hands
What is worth doing
If not love for fellow being?
All my things will come and go
But help
That ripples, you see
And that’s my responsibility
Composed 5/28/15
Description: I’ve increasingly become aware that I fear this myself.
It couldn’t have been a more peaceful evening.
As the sun began its descent, its beams filtered in through the kitchen window and illuminated her mug-filled hands. She brought the rim to her lips and grimaced only slightly as she swallowed.
Tugging her knit sweater more closely to her willowed frame, she stared outside. It was so bright compared to her dim kitchen that she squinted to clearly see the clouds drifting in the sky, the trees easing back and forth in the breeze.
She was alone. And it was this thought that seized her when the pains came.
She had anticipated death; she did not fear the pain or the passing itself. No, she feared bring alone in The Moment. There was no one to witness, to hold, to say goodbye. She would just be found, gone. No one would see her, speak with her again. Her lasts were finalized, and no one was coming to whisper sweet thoughts as she transitioned into that universally Unknown Place.
So she was afraid. As the mug broke, as she crouched to the floor, as she moaned and laid down, belly up, she was lonely, and she was afraid. It seemed such a cruel fate to live so fully, to have family, to make friends, and die abandoned and alone.
She died in the dark. She died sad.
It wasn’t until then that she could see the beaming silhouette standing beside her. He wore a white cloak – heavy, hooded, and warm. He offered his hand, and she took it. She stood and looked down at The Body and started to cry. But he brushed the tears from her cheek, and she realized she had never really been alone.
Composed 4/1/15
Description: For Day 1 of NaPoWriMo! (It’s only a little late…)
I don’t know why I am
So scared to dream
In this warm and promising spring
Perhaps I’ve spent too much
Time in the dark
My heart has crystalized
A product of such a barren winter
Shielded and unable to feel
Even the sunlight does not feel real
I guess I’ve grown too used to the shade
I no longer shun its solitude
Didn’t I once love the sun?
But
Faced with spring’s sudden glare
I balk
Composed 1/29/15
Description: It needs none.
death alone does not scare me
it is frivolity in death
a meaningless death
that renders me pale and shaking
give me brave
give me a story
at the least
give me goodbyes
Scraps of Paper 