This has the beginnings of a list poem...

The Top Five Things I'm Currently In Love With:

1. Pirates

2. Headbands

3. Hockey

4. Keepsake boxes

5. You

Souvenirs

Because memories don't always come easily.

Cuz nobody loves me, it's true. Not like you do.

Can't wait for Adam and Kerri's wedding!

I love this purse! And I'm saving it for Adam and Kerri's wedding in August. Now I just have to find the perfect dress. LOL!

Day 30. Until Next Year.

Day 30. Bittersweet. For today's Read Write Poem prompt I decided to go back to yesterday's prompt. This is what I came up with. Until next year NaPoWriMo; it's been a slice.

Now onstage
Kidding the clowns
Is a toxic anger

The cost of delay
Is taking inventory
As death approaches

The headlines were taken from the New York Times online version.

Day 29. Haiku.

Day 29. Long day.

The wind hits my face
White butterflies fill the sky
I remember you

Day 28: Found.

A found poem for Day 28. This was taken from an email my co-worker Gabe, a.k.a. BFF.

60 minutes till the sun
bathes our complexions,
titillating the melanin
that brews deeply beneath
our pseudo professional attire,
as we navigate through hunger
and insecure times

Day 27: The end is near. I still adore you.

I wrote two poems using the same word. Is that weird?

You can find the prompt details here and other things to keep you busy at Read Write Poem.

Poem One:

A dream of you
Dancing into my world
On your white horse
Riding in like a knight
Except without the armor

Poem Two:

All this time
Deer in the headlights looks
Only helped to focus on
Revolving door secrets
Everything changes and you’re gone

Day 26: I wanted to say so many things...

Day 26. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's still really far away, but it's there. :)

Thanks to Read Write Poem for the wonderful prompt. And thanks to that poem that never quite worked out. Oh and thanks to Him.

I struggle to remember
the last time I felt like this.
The last time my heart raced
with an unabashed lack
of good intentions.

It must have been in college.
I don’t think I ever told about
who I was in college, but then
again, I don’t think you ever asked.

I want to ask what it is that you
want from me, but I don’t want to
ruin this with words.

So who’s to blame for your
busy hands? Me for allowing
you to touch everything your heart
desires without speaking up? Or you
for being so quick to explore and leave?

The heart wants what it wants and
want to pry you open. I want to pull
your insides out, to understand how
you are able to start and stop without
any regard for what is does to me.

Day 25: Are we there yet?

I love the fact that I'm writing everyday, but I am so ready for this month to be over. Here is my day 25 poem. I tried to work with the prompt from RWP, but no one was saying anything interesting near me... or maybe I just wasn't listening hard enough.

We can give it a try
Pull each other down
Then back up again
Move the baggage
To the corner
Sweep everything else
Under the rug and tug
At each other’s clothing
Like there’s no tomorrow
Because for us there isn’t
You belong to someone else
And I should know better

Day 24: Love is Blind

My poem for the day 24 Read Write Poem prompt. This one took a couple tries.

The window is open
The breeze hits me hard
And like a new beginning
It sweeps through the house
Blowing past our memories
Tempting them to fall off the walls
Whispering love is blind
Our footsteps tell a different story

Day 23: In honor or Erick

It's Erick's birthday and I am in the middle of preparing for his "surprise" party, but I had to post my day 23 poem! It's a haiku in honor of his birthday.

A celebration
Devotion, love, happiness
And turning thirty

Day 22: Fun with words!

For today's Read Write Poem Wordle Prompt. I used all the words! Words in bold are taken from the prompt.

It’s pepper, it’s rust
It’s saffron that reverberates
Through my veins
Makes me dizzy
Don’t be fooled, I am still
A fierce opponent
I do not flinch for the squall
Or the crow in the bowels of the emporium
I mark the spot with a tendril for today
And a rose for tomorrow

Day 21: First loves are far from perfect...

I wrote today's Read Write Poem prompt while doing laundry.

We stole kisses
Broke the rules
Painted dirty words
On each other’s bodies

You said you liked me
And I believed you
You said you were picky
That I was special

I should have known you
Said that to all the girls

We stole glances
Broke promises
Asked each other
For forgiveness

I said I loved you
And you believed me
I said I was hard to please
That you completed me

You should have known I
Said that to all the boys

Day 20: The Hero Poem, a.k.a. my prompt for RWP!

So much more than a mother. So much more than a best friend. I had a hard time with my own prompt! It was hard to find the right words to say what my hero (my mom) means to me, so I decided to work in a funny story. Well, it wasn't so funny at the time, but it's pretty funny now. :)

Anyway, here is a poem about my hero. Prompt details can be found here. And a special thanks to Read Write Poem for accepting my prompt!

I probably never told you
the real reason I hate bangs on me.

It’s because of the haircut
you gave me when I was seven.

A valiant effort on your part,
with such dramatic results.

I probably never told you
I cried myself to sleep that night.

I knew all the kids at school
would make fun of me the next day.

As if they needed more ammunition.
Still, I loved you for trying.

When I look back on it now I say
Thank God for headbands.

But more than anything
I thank God for you.

Day 19: After the light bulb moment...

Thanks to Read Write Poem for the fabulous prompt.

Long after I realized most
Of the pieces were missing
I decided to force them to fit
I have no regrets

Day 18: Nine Lives

I wrote a Lune for today's Read Write Poem prompt.

Our love is long gone
Departed
We don’t have nine lives

Day 17: I'm a fire sign!

Here is my response to the day 17 prompt from Read Write Poem.

We built it up tall
Now it’s burning
Before our eyes

The way I see it
We have two choices
Douse it in water
And salvage the remains
Or fuel the flames
And walk away

Day 16: Smell What?!

This prompt was fun and not as hard as I thought it would be. Courtesy of Read Write Poem of course. :)

The scent of lavender in your hair,
I wondered how it overpowered
the smell of the grass as we rolled
around like the boys.

Down the hill, then running back
to touch the base, the old oak tree.
Dodging bumble bees and picking
dandelions, my fondest memories.

Day 15: Not much of a tune...

For the Read Write Poem day 15 prompt. I'm not very "musical" and this is the best I could do while attempting to carry a tune.

We cannot bend
We cannot break
We cannot go on
Like this forever

We cannot push
We cannot pull
We cannot go on
Like this forever

We cannot move
Only through the maze
We cannot go on
Like this forever

Day 14: Today's Prompt Was Beyond Me

I'm still trying to work on the Read Write Poem prompt for today, but for now I have this haiku. I passed a tree of cherry blossoms this morning and have been thinking about it all day!

The city twists, turns
Makes way for cherry blossoms
The glory of Spring

Day 13: My longest poem of the challenge!

I tried to cut it down some, but this is the best I could do. It was a bit longer before. Find details on the prompt here and find more fun poetry related things to do at Read Write Poem. The first two lines are courtesy of Norman Dubie.

Poem Starting with a Line from Norman Dubie

A kiss is like a dress
Falling off a tall building
And every time our lips touch
I lose myself in eyes that sparkle
Like a million stars

Your body is the water,
Warm and pure blue
I navigate gently,
But can never arrive at your heart

Your hands move like the wind
Through my hair
I wonder how I ever existed
Before this

When the sun comes up
In all its yellow and orange glory
Against a sky that begs to be forgotten
I realize it’s the morning after
That hurts the most

Day 12: Secret secrets are no fun...

My Day 12 attempt.

Please visit Read Write Poem for prompt details.

We spoke to the walls
Begged them to keep our secrets
When they grew tired
And started spitting out our words
Through the cracks
We painted over them

Day 11: To Choose Or Not To Choose

I'm very late with my posting today. I probably shouldn't have taken that four hour nap. The prompt is of course from the always amazing Read Write Poem site.

For so long
I bit my tongue
Held onto the words
Like they could save me

When I gathered up the courage
And decided to speak
You decided you
Didn’t want to hear me

Day 10: What God has joined together, let no one separate.

I've been to quite a few celebrations with family and friends lately, but none that has affected me more than my brother's wedding. Probably the most perfect day in our familie's history. My poem came out pretty short and I decided to mix in wedding vows to give it a little more oomph. I like the way it turned out. Thanks to Pamela Sayers and Read Write Poem for the wonderful prompt.

I don’t usually cry at weddings
Love her. Comfort her.

But I cried at this one
Honor him. Cherish him.

To watch the entire progression
In sickness and in health.

Is a gift I will cherish forever
For richer. For poorer.

And now in this room, sharing the love
For better. For worse.

With everyone who knows you
As long as you both shall live.

I’ve never been more proud

Day 9: I almost failed the mission.

This keeps getting harder and harder. I don't know why I thought it would get easier. Wishful thinking I suppose. For those following the RWP prompts my something that tastes terrible is beer, the sound that makes me happy is singing birds, and the 12 words I used are in bold. The full prompt can be found here.

Pull the lever
Release the limp octopus marionette
Spread him out amongst his victims
Like winter
Then torch what remains

Build a campfire in the chimney
Startle the singing birds
As they strum to the beat of a
New season
Stow them in the trees
Feed them beer and jam

Day 8: Our love was like an hourglass...

I have to admit, this Read Write Poem day eight prompt got the best of me. I struggled with it all day and came up with something I'm not very proud of. I'm happy to have finished though.

Sands slowly shifted
Glass protected who we were
The timing was off

Day 7: Love... It's funny to me.

This didn't turn out as "funny" as I hoped it would, but it's definitely funny to me.

Poem 7 for NaPoWriMo. Thanks Read Write Poem for this wonderful prompt.

Young and hooked on love
The city was our playground
Naïve, too cool for maps
Losing our way more than once
But never our direction

Day Six: Poem Two. Found.

This is a found poem from the New York Magazine Article by Lisa Taddeo.

You know what the middle
Looks like, hotel-sheeted
And ultimately routine

And you know the way
It will end

But where and how
It began is always
A little surprising

Day Six: A Conversation With Flowers

This picture was taken by me on my trip to the Botanic Garden last year; the following poem was inspired by it, and of course by a prompt from Read Write Poem.

Little petals dancing in the wind tell me
They’re trying to escape, like butterflies
Trapped in a botanical jungle, longing
To be free

Dreaming of flying away in a flurry of white
And speckled pink

Day Five: It's A Girl

I wrote a long list of contradictions throughout the day for this poem, but only ended up using the ones that seemed to fit best. I'm trying hard to continue with the short poem theme I seem to have imposed on myself; trying to make every word count. Loud Silence is actually something a co-worker said to me today... I told him I was going to use it in my poem. Prompt details are here and as always, courtesy of Read Write Poem. In short, this is how I view poetry.

She is in the air
Easy to reach
Impossible to grab

She is torturing me
Hiding in tight spaces
Out in the open

She is loud silence

Day Four: Working from the inside out

NaPoWriMo day four. This poem is inspired by the Read Write Poem prompt Inside Out.

For two years I sat on that couch
At times spread my body out across it

I learned all about $30 co-pays
And billing the rest to the insurance company

I learned all about defense mechanisms
And survival mode

I learned all about feelings
And what makes me tick

What I didn’t learn
Was a better way to fix it

So I went back to my old form of therapy
The one that worked from the outside in

Day three: Him. Them. And death.

I'm continuing with the short theme that I seem to have going on. Maybe I can work on making all of my poems for the month short poems. Maybe...

Inspired by the Read Write Poem prompt Scared Yet?, my poem confesses my three biggest fears. Day three... three fears... I didn't even plan it that way. :)

Him.
He who has a red nose, big feet,
and preys on the innocence of children.

Him.
And them.
Those creepy crawly things.

Him.
And them.
And death.

Day Two. A Lune and Robot Welded Parts

It's day two of NaPoWriMo and I'm not going crazy yet. Hooray for me! Today's offering is a Jack Collom lune; that being a lune of three words on line one, five words on line two, and three words on line three. RWP prompt details can be found here. The Cliff Notes version of the prompt is to do a search for the acronym RWP and to use the findings as inspiration for the poem. It should be pretty easy to spot in my short poem, but in case it's not, I used robot welded parts.

I hardly notice
robot welded parts scattered across
the hardwood floor

NaPoWriMo Day One: Shuffling a fairytale

It's day One of National Poetry (Writing) Month and today's effort was a successful one... At least that's what I think. The Day One prompt from Read Write Poem was an excellent one that I really enjoyed. The gist of the prompt was to put your MP3 player, or such device, on shuffle and construct a poem using the first five song titles in their entirety. Full prompt details can be found here.

I originally wrote a much longer poem, but scrapped it and came up with this. It's short, but I think it's much better than what I initially had going on.

Flowers in December,
Their petals piece together
A sorta fairytale of possession
And little lies on a Sunday morning

The song titles used in this prompt are as follows:
A Sorta Fairytale - Tori Amos
Flowers in December - Mazzy Star
Possession - Sarah McLachlan
Little Lies - Fleetwood Mac
Sunday Morning - Maroon 5

There are things that I need. Things that I want. Steps that I need to take.

I should be working on my playlist.

Instead I uploaded this pic. I miss taking random pictures. Now, back to the music.

Getting it on!

My response to this week's Read Write Poem prompt.

We

I only want to stay in this moment
With lips pressed to fingertips
Fingertips pressed to flesh
Flesh pressed to flesh

Once we were unbroken
Ripe, with fervor
Unaware of the cost
And all too willing to pay

Then it happened
A misuse of words
I gathered them up
Only to use you
Only to let you use me
A complex agreement
To go on without feeling

Touch me, but don’t love me
I’m not yours for the keeping
Want me, but don’t need me
Break the silence with heavy breathing

And when it’s over
Let it be over for good

Sometimes it's hard to remember.

Writing this poem wasn't easy and I'm not completely happy with it, but this prompt was too amazing to pass up.

I remember tubes to feed you life
Eyes light and wide
Hair so blonde it was hard
To believe we were related

I remember the teal sweater
With a fuzzy poodle on it
The perfect going away present
I remember you looked sick,

But not on the verge of death
As we crowded around the hospital bed
You held my hand so tight
I should have known it was goodbye

I wanted to ask if you had ever peeked
Through the cracks between your mother's
Fingers when she was shielding your eyes
And doubted the person you were becoming

The March Challenge is on!

Read Write Poem's March Poetry Mini-Challenge doesn't involve any writing, so it should be pretty easy for me to complete. I hate to admit it, but I was "late" for the February challenge and only completed three of the five days. Ok! Stop making me feel guilty! March gives me the ability to start over fresh. I'm going to pretend that February never happened. :)

For the next five day I, and many other RWP fans, will be preparing for NaPoWriMo. I'm going to try to take it easy this month because last April was not easy.

Day one of this five day challenge requires us to introduce ourselves to a new form of poetry. I'm choosing to learn more about Fibonacci Poetry. You can learn more about Fib Poetry here, here, and here. You can also visit the blog of Gregory Pincus here; he's the creator.

Read Fiona Robyn's new novel Thaw!

Ruth's diary is the new novel by Fiona Robyn, called Thaw. She has decided to blog the novel in its entirety over the next few months, so you can read it for free. Ruth's first entry is below, and you can continue reading tomorrow at http://r20.rs6.net/tn.jsp?et=1102954314728&s=2607&e=001jQiaJQmZw8sBH9M2CzTq4pWrU61X2BCIJ7zA9X4QYst_-yYLzFhjdUaXPxrajG3fHonw-vIAiBoRQ6Srx8pDzHz42eLDBdmf5IOdS3PRXxYg_UdsZgw0yg==.

* These hands are ninety-three years old. They belong to Charlotte Marie Bradley Miller. She was so frail that her grand-daughter had to carry her onto the set to take this photo. It's a close-up. Her emaciated arms emerge from the top corners of the photo and the background is black, maybe velvet, as if we're being protected from seeing the strings. One wrist rests on the other, and her fingers hang loose, close together, a pair of folded wings. And you can see her insides.The bones of her knuckles bulge out of the skin, which sags like plastic that has melted in the sun and is dripping off her, wrinkling and folding. Her veins look as though they're stuck to the outside of her hands. They're a colour that's difficult to describe: blue, but also silver, green; her blood runs through them, close to the surface. The book says she died shortly after they took this picture. Did she even get to see it? Maybe it was the last beautiful thing she left in the world.I'm trying to decide whether or not I want to carry on living. I'm giving myself three months of this journal to decide. You might think that sounds melodramatic, but I don't think I'm alone in wondering whether it's all worth it. I've seen the look in people's eyes. Stiff suits travelling to work, morning after morning, on the cramped and humid tube. Tarted-up girls and gangs of boys reeking of aftershave, reeling on the pavements on a Friday night, trying to mop up the dreariness of their week with one desperate, fake-happy night. I've heard the weary grief in my dad's voice.So where do I start with all this? What do you want to know about me? I'm Ruth White, thirty-two years old, going on a hundred. I live alone with no boyfriend and no cat in a tiny flat in central London. In fact, I had a non-relationship with a man at work, Dan, for seven years. I'm sitting in my bedroom-cum-living room right now, looking up every so often at the thin rain slanting across a flat grey sky. I work in a city hospital lab as a microbiologist. My dad is an accountant and lives with his sensible second wife Julie, in a sensible second home. Mother finished dying when I was fourteen, three years after her first diagnosis. What else? What else is there?Charlotte Marie Bradley Miller. I looked at her hands for twelve minutes. It was odd describing what I was seeing in words. Usually the picture just sits inside my head and I swish it around like tasting wine. I have huge books all over my flat - books you have to take in both hands to lift. I've had the photo habit for years. Mother bought me my first book, black and white landscapes by Ansel Adams. When she got really ill, I used to take it to bed with me and look at it for hours, concentrating on the huge trees, the still water, the never-ending skies. I suppose it helped me think about something other than what was happening. I learned to focus on one photo at a time rather than flicking from scene to scene in search of something to hold me. If I concentrate, then everything stands still. Although I use them to escape the world, I also think they bring me closer to it. I've still got that book. When I take it out, I handle the pages as though they might flake into dust.Mother used to write a journal. When I was small, I sat by her bed in the early mornings on a hard chair and looked at her face as her pen spat out sentences in short bursts. I imagined what she might have been writing about - princesses dressed in star-patterned silk, talking horses, adventures with pirates. More likely she was writing about what she was going to cook for dinner and how irritating Dad's snoring was.I've always wanted to write my own journal, and this is my chance. Maybe my last chance. The idea is that every night for three months, I'll take one of these heavy sheets of pure white paper, rough under my fingertips, and fill it up on both sides. If my suicide note is nearly a hundred pages long, then no-one can accuse me of not thinking it through. No-one can say, 'It makes no sense; she was a polite, cheerful girl, had everything to live for,' before adding that I did keep myself to myself. It'll all be here. I'm using a silver fountain pen with purple ink. A bit flamboyant for me, I know. I need these idiosyncratic rituals; they hold things in place. Like the way I make tea, squeezing the tea-bag three times, the exact amount of milk, seven stirs. My writing is small and neat; I'm striping the paper. I'm near the bottom of the page now. Only ninety-one more days to go before I'm allowed to make my decision. That's it for today. It's begun. Continue reading at http://r20.rs6.net/tn.jsp?et=1102954314728&s=2607&e=001jQiaJQmZw8sBH9M2CzTq4pWrU61X2BCIJ7zA9X4QYst_-yYLzFhjdUaXPxrajG3fHonw-vIAiBoRQ6Srx8pDzHz42eLDBdmf5IOdS3PRXxYg_UdsZgw0yg==.

What I believe. And the proof that backs it up.

There were so many lists for this Read Write Poem prompt that I never even finished the list for what I don't believe in! More than half counts though...right? To get the full details on the prompt and to get in on some of the awesome list action go here. My belief: You never completely get over someone.

I have the proof

It’s in the way my heart stops
And struggles to start again
When he enters the room

It’s in the lump that grows
In my throat mid-conversation
And keeps me from forming
Complex words

Words like I and You and Us

It’s in the way my mind races
Back to thoughts of him
At its own will

I’m forced to remember
Every part of his body I’ve had
The good fortune of touching

(The misfortune of touching)

It’s in the chills I get
When his name comes up

And if all of that isn’t enough
It’s in the love

Today was an interesting day. One day I'll have to tell you about it.

Until then, there's this:

I don’t ever remember
Wanting to be a wife
But I can remember
Wanting to be your wife

Life is funny that way
Our needs are basic
Our wants, genetic
And endless

Churches
Steeples
Cathedral ceilings

Somewhere along the way
Our wants become our needs
And I need you to love me

F
O
R
E
V
E
R

I want you to love me

F
O
R
E
V
E
R

But I know that will never happen

To navigate and pass through...

Poem #3 for the Read Write Poem Poetry Mini-Challenge. Inspired by the poems of Elizabeth Alexander.

Traverse

Snow floods the city, covering
Everything we created
Breathing slows down
Comes out in flimsy clouds

Now out of breath
We are contagious
Victims of time wasted
My hands are like islands

I use them to tempt men
And would-be business associates
I’m almost certain I garnered this talent
From my grandmother

Who never went anywhere without
Putting on her face
If only mine were as sweet and subtle
Mine is ridden with disease

And must be covered up at all times
So as not to scare the children
Everyone has an opinion, I have a theory
There is no remedy

The toxins on the inside are working
Their way out through my pores
I’m on a boat in the water
Tattered and writhing with scars

I cannot tell you what I lost
Not because I don’t remember
But because you wouldn’t understand
And there’s no use in dwelling on the past

If I can’t get it back, then I must let it go
Let the crows carry it off to Hell
And pray the angels carry me home
When I have sufficed on suffering

Vanished Skyscrapers to continue the challenge.

My day two contribution to the February Poetry Mini-Challenge for Read Write Poem, since the real day two was...well...days ago. I'm still kicking myself for missing the prompt, but it was too tempting to pass up.

Lines from this poem have been taken from Elizabeth Alexander's Ars Poetica #100: I Believe, Autum Passage, Peccant, End, At the Beach, Island Number Four, Neonatology, and Fugue. I like the way this poem turned out.

Vanished Skyscrapers

I.
It only happens once.
In the days before you smile at me
I’m on a train, thinking about my friends.
Recalling every misbegotten everything, lamenting, repenting.
Though I do not know what I took, I know I took something
In the details, the only way
To get from here to there.

II.
The city burns. We have to stay at home
where all I will see is the circus
as it dims, as it shrinks,
but nonetheless burns
as it turns to something else.
Emptying the proverbial pocketbook,
then everything dries and disappears

III.
You tell me knees are important, you kiss
the air that dries the mouth.
What looks to be perfect is not perfect.
I must remind you that the earth is round.
To be perfect is handmade, disturbed.
Even as it falls apart, the body
Is where we are ourselves

IV.
In my head I search for understanding,
screen for the virus, which I imagine
is not all love, love, love.
Its greens and purples
in the dirt in the corner
of the body that operates
on suffering, which is real

Better late than never right? Falling in love with Elizabeth and circling the universe with Aphrodite.

I'm a little late on this Read Write Poem Mini-Poetry Challenge. I don't know how I missed it! This poem is made up of lines taken from The Venus Hottentot by Elizabeth Alexander, a.k.a. my muse for the duration of this challenge. For five days I will emerse myself in her poetry and try to come up with writings that are somewhat worthy by comparison. I don't think somewhat is too much to ask for. LOL!

Observations and Aphrodite

Small things in this world are mine
A drop of water swirls

Blown beneath my glass
There are singing mice here

So the whole world could see
Everything is beautiful

In my silence I possess
National character

Woven through my hair and diamonds
Between my legs, poking, prodding

I have made other parts private
In this newspaper lithograph

There is unexpected sun today
And I am moving closer

All because of a broken chair.

An image prompt this week for Read Write Poem.

I bow down
Kneel before this hazard
Ahead of me

Standing tall isn’t an option
I’ve created this monster
An anomaly

Not beyond repair
Just slightly out of reach

Image by Sepulture (mood disorder)

I'm a thief! Blame it on Read Write Poem.

Here is my poem in response to Prompt #109 for Read Write Poem. The words "stolen" to make this poem possible are in bold.

Mythological

I took the brunt of the weight
Shouldered the burden
Throwing stones at the elite

Watching them shatter like promises
Drawing back simple
No question for authority

Hercules couldn’t have made
A better attempt

I, always the enthusiast
Treaded water and froth thigh-high
With a fertile mind

And half-expected you to notice
Sundered by tragedy
On a quest for the unknown

The End of Starting Over.

Poem #6 for the January RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge. This is the final poem in the Starting Over series. Another untitled poem, but I'm happy to have completed the challenge. Thanks to all who have come to read these poems over the past couple of days and who have offered their support. These poems have not been as structured and clear as I would like them to be, but they are a window to the issues I am dealing with right now.

My tears stain the pillow
The blanket, the bed

In the morning we can pretend
It never happened

A second chance
Another first attempt

With dry eyes I have the power
To see things different

Another Untitled Poem.

Poem #5 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge. I'm too sad for a more cheerful introduction.

Winter has been unusually cruel this year
And we’re only two weeks into it

Already I feel like throwing in the towel
Maybe I should have made a resolution
Perhaps the New Year thinks I’m taking her for granted

Perhaps I am
Seeing as she only brings me
More of the same

And I’m a litter bitter because of it

Same lovers
Same arguments
Same lessons learned

I haven’t really learned anything from the looks of it

Still tomorrow is another day
And with it come the promise
Of a new beginning

The only question is
Will I be bold enough to reach for it?

An Untitled Poem. An Unsure Future.

Poem #4 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge. This was a tough one. It's pretty generic at the moment, but I'm in too much pain to continue and too weak to follow through. Tomorrow promises more of the same. In my dreams I'll have the strength to do what I need to do. Untitled.

The promises
Have been broken
Shattered as you
Walk out the door

Picking them up
Is an unbearable task
At the moment

In the morning
When the world
Starts brand new
I will too

Starting Over, Just Barely

Poem #3 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge.

Barely

My lips part, unevenly
Unsure

I can barely feel the words rising
In my throat,
Touching my tongue,
And slipping through the spaces
Between my teeth

It’s not like I ever loved you
So why is this so hard?

We only existed in half-hearted gazes
And back-handed compliments

Holding hands because we needed
To feel the warmth of another human being

The thrill, once rooted firmly
Like a tree
Is now growing weak,
Fading swiftly

The words escape safely
Certain in their departure
Ready for a new beginning
But just barely

Insignificant

Poem #2 for the RWP Poetry Mini-Challenge.

Insignificant

I spent years carving the line
Trying to get it perfect
Only to spend years
Trying to erase it

Coconut butter
Miracle creams
Lotions

I tried to wish it away
I tried to pray it away

Nothing seemed to work
No one seemed to be listening

A line so small
Most people wouldn’t notice
Unless held under a microscope

I see it clearly every single day
My tiny little reminder
That starting over
Doesn’t always mean
Wiping the slate clean

What If I Loved You Like This?

It's time for the first Read Write Poem Mini-Poetry Challenge of the year! For five more days I will be stringing words together trying to form something worth reading. Who am I kidding? Just trying to form something! All of the poems will deal with Starting Over, per the rules of the prompt. Rules. Oh RWP you're so strict. And I like it. :)

What If I Loved You Like This?

What if I loved you like this:

In reverse, from this moment
Back to when we first met
In cryptic messages from the past
To greet you in the present
I guess technically the future

We could skip over the end
Work our way back to the beginning
When things were still new
And we hadn’t discovered our differences
Were too much to overcome

I would love you from the start
Instead of taking you for granted

A Moment of Truth for January

It started off with yelling.
Now there is only silence.
I don't like where this is headed.
We're coming close to the end.

Let's start the year off write!

Cheesy title I know, but considering I'm recovering from all the New Year's Eve festivities I think I'm allowed to be a little cheesy. It's my first blog posting of the year after all!

Starving for inspiration I turned to some of my favorite poetry and writing blogs for a little direction. The One-Minute Writer did not disappoint. The prompt is simple enough; describe 2009 in 20 words and hopes for 2010 in 10 words. I think I managed to sum it all up, though I didn't follow the prompt exactly. This is a new year and I plan to create my own rules. :)

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! Hope 2010 is good to you. XOXO

2009:
You brought me more joy, heartache, love, pain, failure, success than I ever could have imagined.

2010:
You’re a vision; a revelation just waiting to happen.