Trauma. Everyone has experienced it on some level. No one’s trauma is greater than someone else’s. No one can tell anyone else how their personal trauma should affect them. A month ago, trauma found its way to my home. And that is how I ended…

No Sweat   Sweat floods my forehead Heartbeat throbs betwixt my ears Pursuing my poetry Is much harder than I thought!   (A tanka is usually five lines with a 5/7/5/7/7 syllable count.)

Rolling Hills  and cedar trees. that’s our meeting place,  where we dance with abandon,  running towards each other frantically. Rolling down over rolling hills Dancing naked around bonfires you strum your guitar   and utter my name  and it sounds like a song. The sweetest lie…

Blissfull fireflies Dance in the rain Watching you go No longer in pain A moment in time Captured Like a butterfly Emerging from its cocoon Seasons change, and end Only to begin again Your soul forever near Appearing unexpectedly As a rainbow in the rain…

If I had hands I could touch Every inch of this place without moving at all I once had only to think of something new And I could push out a new room or a wall But everything that came attached to that thought Filled…

It tastes like grit against your teeth and ash upon your tongue. It feels a lot like broken bones  and torn muscles from a boxing fight. Humiliating, Pitiful endless agony, and a learning curve Feels like being stuck  with no way to make a way….

A Wine’s Life: Glass bottle contains me Putting me on display Waiting ever patiently For someone to whisk me away Alas, there is a hand Firmly grabbing hold A voice happily remarks This one is quite old Suddenly the pressure eases The air I can…

She was the scent that lingered heavy in the air after a thick and heavy summer rain. She was the sun that burst through the gray clouds, absorbing the moisture, she was the humidity that saturated your skin She was the smell of perfume that…

#warning   heights placed there by adoring sentiments made to seduce me into the dark embrace of conceit – removing myself from… forgetting to remember to honour the muses who fill me before my pen.   it’s a teaching in humility: this crumpled parcel of…

Everything is closing in. I live in a castle, with gargantuan rooms And regal tapestries But, I’m feeling more like Rapunzel- Trapped in a tower In this state, I have no power The more I perspire, the smaller things become. I am trapped Everything is…