All posts filed under: Poetry

A Thank You Letter To A Few Good Men

“Thank you to all of the men who have impacted my life: my boyfriends, my best friends, my teachers and my mentors. Thank you to the fellas who broke my heart, which in so many ways made me stronger. Thank you for the life lessons, the tears, the smiles, the growth, and the encouragement…”

You, My Love

“Here it’s just us. You sitting on the sofa, I nestled in close beside your warm, tired body. Together we sit. There is no need for conversation in these moments, only the need to get just a little bit closer, to snuggle in a tiny bit more…”

Come on, Common

  Come on, Common. Your down time is up. It’s time to stand down. Give up, give in, give them everything, or stand up for your Homeland.   Buy time in the meantime while you figure out how to get on common ground or get mean. It wouldn’t be uncommon.   “Let us in!” They’re storming the fences. They’re holding their babies faces to the wire. Swollen with hunger and tears, this baby’s cries sound just like yours. They would delight each other if they met, but then again, they would fight like dogs over crayon or crown. It’s not uncommon for children to clash.   There’s a one-eyed woman near the back of the masses ranting revelations loudly. Everyone pushes past. After all, she’s holding two chickens, and her clothes are like rags, but she knows about barters. She gauged her own eye out for foresight; a devil’s deal. It’s not uncommon for old hags.   Time is ticking. “These people are tics!” “They’ll suck us dry!” “We will only take a few.” “Women …

The Union

The Union   You and I Are different See?   You are man You are the spirit that ponders The mountain You are the body that wanders There You are the train that boards and passes Collects their tickets And their tithes Who says with confidence and conviction, “You may not cross” This line. I do not bear that cross   I am woman I am the spirit that ponders The man I am the body that wanders Here I am the countryside that stays Only subtle changes Set in motion by the tracks Of trains Who questions before asking “May I come with you?” This time   Hoping perhaps You and I Are the same You see?   *   featured image:  “track” by Joshua Hoffmann via  

Also None

Also None I can be accused and not become. Feel guilt when had not done. Feel sadness and happiness that are not mine. Feel sadness and happiness that are mine but not me. Just passing through. I can drift and not swim. I can swim and not fight. I can fight and not die. I can die and not live. I can be wrong I know. But I’ve been right also. With what I knew at the time. But if there had been something I had not known at the time I was right perhaps I was wrong. Even then. Even now. I can be boy. I can be girl. I can be black. I can be white. I could go blue. I simply choose not to. Yet. I can be ready and not become. Feel proud when had not done. But as all of these which is me? All. And also None. * Photo by Lauren Lege