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…

Night break pt.I

The glorious pines stand,In their battle scarred gowns,Taller into the starry sky,Belligerent and brown. A mystical aura,Drifting through the air,Ambrosial and damp,Complementing the moon’s flair. Enchanting music plays,From the orchestras in the sky,Little flickering fireflies fly,as the old peaks sit by. Gurgling creeks of silver flow,Laden with fish and toads,As this verdant moss ever so…