A Confession in Tanka

~ Exhilarating,That time, when I stabbed the sky,The world slept in peace,The horizon bled to dawn,And I killed, sleeplessly, the night. ~

From a mannequin

My hands: put them back,Where they always used to be,Bend me in my waist, rest myEyes over at thee. Wrap me in your merchandise,Put me by the door,Staring at the desolate,I beseech, entreat, implore. Lift chin with your hands bare,Keep my poise at rest,Move my body, tear me down,And leave me to protest. Detach me…

National Poetry Month Writing Challenge: The Final Segment

“The end of a melody is not its goal: but nonetheless, had the melody not reached its end it would not have reached its goal either. A parable.” I might have never believed that I would do it when I started writing a poem a day. However, I am here, with my last segment, wrapping…

National Poetry Month Writing Challenge: Week 3

I couldn’t agree more with C. Joybell’s quote, “I have realized; it is during the times I am far outside my element that I experience myself the most.” It’s been another week of the poetry challenge and it’s only getting better. This week was tough, like the previous week, but so much more whole. It…

Dead storms.

The storm is all dead, Instantaneously gone, Shattered by the winds: Broken glass in lucid hands, capturing sun rays alone. ~ for storms will come, and storms will go, but you will make the sun shine bright on yourself with the very things that your storms will break…