Category: poetry

Curious to know,

what happens now.

If it is writing, for writing’s sake,

Does it curl up under the couch and die?

carving out a moment to feel through words,

on a blissful, balmy evening, under a pergola with a beer.… Read the rest

So gentle that movement can wait,

These beautiful spring days,

when there is no deadline,

so I can exercise as long as I like.

no longer afraid of the sunshine,

moments sitting on my balcony soaking it up.

returning to a different life.… Read the rest

The parts that sparkle to me,

In all these years of words,

Are the ones that speak poetically,

Of some observation of the senses.

Sometimes emotional heartbreak

can be articulated in that way,

It doesn’t feel like my true purpose, though,

To talk about love.… Read the rest

Soul fires,

doused in flames.

what’s left –

a desire to use my words,

but,

maybe I am just trash,

if my thoughts are.

if my words are so worthless.

 … Read the rest

Holding on to the moments in my life between these psychoses.

Wanting those moments to last a little longer.

Because everything else is for the bin.

Standing in the light for a moment,

Knowing that it will come around again.

Nothing I can do to stop it.… Read the rest

I am experiencing one of the nicer consequences of dopamine withdrawal.

It is a languid kind of stretching of the afternoon.

Want to savour each moment, want to stay with it, and let it be still around me.

No need to rush, or push.… Read the rest

When my mind feels like a grind,

Perhaps some words will soak in,

And soothe or stretch this malady.

The grind inside is overstimulated perhaps.

What I want is to climb into bed with someone,

And wrap my body in theirs.… Read the rest

Climb into a hug today,

I need someone’s arms around me.

Put my head on your bare chest,

And feel the solid realness of our bodies.

The heartbreak sits in my stomach,

Like a knot of anxious pain.

Want to get out and explore,

But the pain asks me to be quiet and gentle today.… Read the rest

The gentle exhaustion of a memory of sadness,

Balances a little heavily on my soul.

Its weight tells me the story,

Of how this space can hurt.

And yet, I have a seemingly indefatigable urge,

To be vulnerable tonight.

And show something of my soul,

Or make something that I consider beautiful.… Read the rest