Poetry
Writing to, from, and about the parts within. Sharing to normalize the healing process.
Out Now: How To Write Evocative Poetry
Forever Cursed To Sing
Can’t you hear
My silent screams?
Can’t you see
The rope’s sway?
My head is too heavy
To cradle in your arms
I’m loathe
To drive you away
The bridges we
Walked hand in hand
You returned in secret
To burn
Thus my fate
Is bound to yours
Now the mirror’s eye
Has learnt to yearn
I was blinded
By the shine
Of your porcelain
Handshake
Fooled into believing
That nothing
Would ever
Cause us to break
The memory
Of our time apart
Like the returning
Of a playground swing
Pushing against
Fate itself
Forever cursed
To sing
Oh how
I’ve learnt
To hold onto
All those toxic tears
Created and then
Faced together
You and I
Embodying each other’s fears
The embers of
Last night’s fire
Lie discarded
In their pit
Smoldering
As we dance around
No chairs left
On which to sit
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Love Is
Love is a mortgage,
A debt promise of pain.
Paid with interest,
For those you outlive.
Love is making connections
Despite knowing they will be broken.
And it’s the letting go
Of the guilt for doing so.
Love is for the small sacrifices,
That contain the hidden joys.
And the memory that’s both
Blessing and curse.
Love is knowing when to push,
And when you must concede.
The realisation that you’re wrong,
And the leaving of transgressions unseen.
Love is the give and take,
The unspoken word.
The comforts freely given,
And those gratefully accepted.
Love is the discipline to say no,
Through begging, pleading and pain.
And the careful observation,
Of limits reached.
Love is tempered guidance,
A shot at eternity.
And the words of encouragement,
To try once more.
Love is a partnership,
A bonding of the muse.
A step into darkness,
Taken together in faith.