You-
Lover of a thousand arms
lift me high above myself,
You-
strong enough to find the strength in a lowered gate;
eternally holds lock and key inside of me.
And it’s You-
keeper of mind;
teaching one to know better at no benefit of his own;
how decisively deceptive of you/
so open and juxtaposed in my sight
You, who calls my soul to love free;
You-
man of numbers;
placing them in the stars so they project on every clock;
together ticking eternity;
man who thinks more of others than he does himself;
carefully crafting out the finest versions of me/
though think our thoughts are on opposition -
You.
How dare you?
We have plotted forever without knowing it;
this whole entire universe and
You.
Can you query your deep decadence?
Healing my wounds from a far-
time nor space measures a soul so boundless
You...carrier of divine grace
It Is You-
an auspicious gift from the Gods-
how precious is the powers that Be..
Does it surprise You?
Millennia’s have past /
circling back around,
I have found-
who tastes like an eternal sweetness,
one who bears both dark and light
chooses only-
You;
give rise to the sun and nightfall to the moon
Keeper of dreams-
are apart of every. sole. reason/
to wake up
and love …
You.
~Breanna Womble
Sep 5, 2021
Sep 5, 2021 at 2:52 PM UTC
God Brought A Beach Towel
Written By: Breanna Womble
...
I’m starting to understand
The slight of hand
That it takes to see this world as an ocean
So vast and deep
With secrets to keep-
I spread love on like tanning lotion
(..) I forgot how the sun feels from this perspective
As my heart beats quick with/
as if it’s,
/To keep up with lost time.
I know now I hold the full Collective
all the while I stay and destroy the retina’s in my eyes.
This time around,
Loving me is the new objective-
gazing at new found patience with what follows sunrise
And left these sands of time-
One grain left to fall amongst the Hour,
All this chaos I hold inside of me-
In-spite of trees that Fear let tower
Ahead of me is too far gone
twin flames too, burned away...
Lake Eerie drowned our fire quickly/
a parted heart of two;
half-hearted sunsets shadowed days,
To the boy I thought I knew.
Do you suffocate with silence?
Do the sun-rays burn your eyes?
All this technicolor vision Love,
Colorblind through cobalt eyes’
(..) I know now of not tomorrow,
But sea, to my dismay;
Salt lake kisses from Oklahoma/
...Taste like soulmates in PA.
~Breanna Womble
Jun 10, 2021
Jun 10, 2021 at 10:57 PM UTC
Bones-Let’s let them be dry and ******
As if that be the way they were found
Let them crack and fracture and bruise, amongst the concrete ground
Let them have their space to break and wither away-
Let’s turn the other cheek-while behind us they quickly decay
And then let’s use their fossils for fuel, weapons or laddels in every size
As simply as to stir the *** and smug at their great demise
If not ashes to dust, then what'll be of our bones we fast to give away-
Sewn better than not, twist an arm for play-
But simple pleasures wither too, bones we toddle but dare not fix
Let them wonder how we toyed our hearts- like a feverish game of pick-up-sticks.
-Bre Womble
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 4:39 AM UTC
Don’t coddle me.
I don’t like to be coddled.
In fact, I don’t like to be held.
I don’t like to be touched.
In fact, don’t breathe my air.
I’m coming down with something, it must be from here or there.
And please don’t try to conversant about the news like its traverse
You cannot sit at the table without a place to put it first.
Don’t coddle me like a child.
We both know we lost our way
Don’t speak to me in such numbers
Where it seems I’m not okay
Don’t twist my words or quarry
About my younger days
As if I don’t quite ponder what will become of my wicked ways
Don’t coddle if I’m so intolerable
Don’t call if the time is not just right
Don’t feed me to the world
Just to hide me from viewers sight
And grace reflects my mere impeachment
Lets not forget about my lucky stars
Don’t count them in their glory,
Then question where they are
Don’t nurture me into success just to strip it all away
Don’t treat me like a doll
Then give me of which no house to play-
In fact, you shouldn’t coddle; when heavied from all of which I’ve weeped
What use is it to coddle- when the wicked get no sleep.
-Bre Womble
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 4:35 AM UTC
I'm sick of work-its passing of time
It seems of no weight of which to carry
Buried we'll be; sooner than later
No briefcase to which you'll marry.
And quite possibly ponder
the essence of life
And meticolous in each of its wonders
The typical does not seem like the life for me
So I sit and watch them all be
What a mere afterthought couldn't resist
We bare this drowning weight
for a dollar
and in turn, a dollar,
no time-
How miserable can one be?
Am not one for them to muzzle- to preach upon chaos and hustle-when the roses seem ought to be smelled and stopped by,
And glory be to those who chase a mere afterthought
And die without currency
Because rags are much better than riches
But
Glory, oh glory.
Rats are much finer,
Than the porcelain dish from which one seeks
And if we are but born to struggle, and die even subtle
I will share seats with poor old myths.
if one job can define me, who will stand beside me, when my soul bids its final wish?
Our job here isn't struggle, I know its not subtle- but roses are life's finer gifts.
So stop and smell them.
Sep 30, 2020
Sep 30, 2020 at 11:47 PM UTC
I can’t sleep at night
I’ve got elements I’m facing
And in my dreams I need it most to see this vision that I’m chasing
And if I wander deeper against this grain
Will I split this earth in two,
Maybe I was born in cycle, maybe I am recycled youth
Still
I can’t sleep at night
That’s when the lost come knocking
Sleep is what is needed most
A rest from a view that I am blocking
Resist the temptation to be tired
Because it comes and goes throughout the day -
Sleepless nights, up late wondering when I will stop standing in my own way
But still
Sleepless nights
I can’t sleep
Sleepless nights
Set me free
Sleepless nights
Lie a-wake
Sleepless nights
Stand in my-way
And tomorrow is here but for the moment so I get up to live the day
Another round of forgotten souls harvest the moon’s decay
And these sleepless night keep me from seeing a life from a brighter point of view-
I can’t sleep at night
So the next day is never new.
~Bre Womble
Sep 4, 2020
Sep 4, 2020 at 1:59 AM UTC
Sometimes I think I will sound crazy, and cause you to run away;
when I think of telling you how I happened to stumble upon you one day,
and expecting the worst I lowered my eyes as if to project a self-deflection
I forgot who I was-and got lost on locked eyes through spaces between time and affection.
And I never regret to inform you how such- your smile radiates a heatful and humble glow
and maybe its best to silent my thoughts because its aiding in armor I had to put back away
Never ending differences, we've both got too much to say
and I want you around with a joint account that we might never have to unsubscribe too,
Oh how you've taken my heart
And I grant you small fragments
With hope the other pieces won't get destroyed-
Because for the first time I found an equal, not a boy-who's soul fills a much larger void
Aug 10, 2020
Aug 10, 2020 at 6:20 AM UTC
To give in or give up,
That is the question.
And as I sit here and ponder my life’s reality
The lifestyle that’s led up to this point
I’ve realized there is no simple answer
There’s no reason as to why you find yourself struggling to find the meaning in your life
Or as to why you can’t fall asleep soundly to the silence of your own breath;
And it’s only when I’m awake and listening can I see the truth before me,
Your sound asleep with contentment in the arms of my sheets and I, well I, I am here dealing with the mess you have left me behind to deal with.
You’re hurting too,
Your kisses cannot coat the pain this time
Nor will mine
For my eyes are dry and my heart is numb
But I’m foreshadowing your next move
A dim light and a snow fall
A cold walk and a liquor coaxed dream
Only now you see me.
So when I tremble in dismay with your hand on my cheek; do not be weary,
For I have not but pondered this outcome
To give in or to give up?
That is the question.
And it is now that I realize there might be more than yet two answers
My eyes are open, my ears are sound, and my heart is still
This time 4 months hasn’t changed me;
But I still hope you will
~Bre Womble
Sunday March 31 2019
Jun 1, 2020
Jun 1, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
Wipe me down Inside out
Turn the music up to drown Me out
Liberated women but no words come out.
Make me shiny, better than before/
This is the better way
Even maple trees, those of pine
Aspen, cherry, and oak
My rawness was beautiful, but needed a different touch
Wipe me down Outside in, I can't remember who I was Before-
Render to silence or invasive compliance
Our mothers are seeds of time
Having branches they want to climb
Now that I'm older-
Polish
Me
Down
I am a woman before my time.
~Bre Womble
5/30/2020
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 11:59 PM UTC
Remembrance is the pitfalls of things we wish to not understand
When the towers come falling and all is lost in demand
The fragments and pieces of parts we wish to not see
I’m lying in a 6 ft ditch of denial and mistrust this can’t all be me.
There’s people looking down, people praying up and I’m silent in the words I failed to say
I’m frozen but thawed with the life I let wither away
We’ve got hours
We’ve got time
At least that’s what they say...
Tomorrow is not enough
Let’s live for today
...
~Breanna Womble
August 14th
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 9:44 PM UTC