Monthly Archives: February 2012

Poetry: Secret Woman


She is my indulgence,
The lion silently roaring,
The forbidden chest in my chest,
Bolted shut but overflowing,
With bitterness and loveliness,
The whole background story,
That’s ne’er foretold nor foretelling.

She is the annunciation,
Of all my inebriation,
Giving way to every emotion,
With excess and devotion.

She is a poem that need not rhyme,
But with the limitless of her sultry description,
She is bound to find,
Release in melody,
At least some of the time,

When people first meet me,
They often deem me strange,
All out there with something missing,
An open book with a missing page,

I fashioned my heart,
This pink, fleshy bitch,
In this manner, in this way
To hide,
My inner burning woman,
My inner burning pride.

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Poetry: The Umbrella Terms


Devastation is a broken umbrella
That won’t close on a sunny day.
A gift to me from a man last year,
Who thought it time to pass on its shade.

For some, this item is the accepted cost of inspiration,
Or the price of living for even a day.
For some, it’s a pain that moves in silence,
Hits like a bus, and goes on its way.

I peak through the windows of Hope,
I stand at the door,
Knocking not twice but three times,
Best to be sure.

Hope beckons me to come into its comfort,
And warm my hands by its fire,
But the boundaries of my canopy keep me
Limited… outside… bemired.