I stoke the fire
It's cold outside, snow is falling
This old stove keeps us warm
I watch the flames ripple and churn
Devouring the wood with appetite
It's beautiful to watch it burn
The smoky scent wafts through the air
Wrapping around me like a lovers embrace
The flames dance in my eyes I can feel their heat
It warms my skin and fills my soul
I thank winter for this gift,
Of hearth and home
Its cold and snowy days
Make the warmth so much more
Than a hot and sunny day.

I was given my name
At the beginning of this charade
One for the dead
Another for a babe
The last is rarely said
But I'll answer to it all the same
Though it doesn't always make sense
It's my passage on this ship.

In forgotten light came birth
In cries and screams
It came to be
A mother torn of the child she bore
No father offering a home
Life was already worn
It happens this way
A child born but forgotten
Cries and fingers high ignored
The child grows hard and old
Before knowing why it feels alone
Looking for why
Finding no answers in the world's eye
Until the day the whispers came
Speaking of love in a distant place.
The child goes searching,
For a place calling its name
Of family who never gave it away.

I didn't cry that day or the next
I never do
I'm ashamed that way.
As I've grown I know I loved you dearly
And even today I wish you were here
So I could say all these thoughts of mine.
I think we probably shared these things
But back then I was only fifteen
And I didn't know how to speak my mind.
I've learned now you knew and felt these things
It may be the blood we share
So I write this for you grandfather
As I write so many things
Of the day I saw you go.

I don't know if you knew I was there
I saw your children cry and grandchildren too young to know
I know you knew, when we last spoke
That you had to say what was on your mind,
When you told me to never quit
That I was better and to remember this.
So I say this not in tears, but with some pride,
I never did and I remind myself sometimes,
Of a man I knew who was kind and burdened in ways I never knew.
I didn't have the words to say that day
But now I do, it's taken some learning and truth.
Illness took you too soon,
This broken family still needs someone like you,
I know why they say the good die young,
You were burdened but never stooped,
And I dearly hope you knew how much I cared for you.

A whirlwind that demands attention
Overwhelming all in its path
A gentle breeze is swept away
To a tornado of fierce solipsism.

Living a life overrun by storms
Emotions of a dangerous form
Never finding shelter
Always torn from the healthy norm.

Can't you see what you've done to me?
Grown but still bracing myself
From winds I can't outrun
I can't yield to them anymore.

These feelings are yours
I don't give a **** anymore
I've knelt too long to your storm
I love you still but this raging sea does not command me like the child before.

It was a difficult place to go,
Some old friends hadn't made it out.
Perhaps now they have. She thought as she set the flowers down and whispered their names.

A little boy came up next to her,
His face was smudged and his shirt was torn. She picked him up when she saw his tears. She asked if he came alone. He wiped his tears and nodded solemnly.
"Don't cry little one. This is only temporary." She said.

"Do you have any family here?" She asked. He shook his head as his lips quivered. She held him tight and hushed his cries.
"You'll stay with me until they come." She promised. He placed his little hand on the watery wall in front of them. Flowers and notes lined the vast wall as far as the eye could see.
"What if they don't come?" He asked
She smiled and looked at the roses she had just left. Yellow just like her mother loved.

"They always come. One guarantee about the living is they always die. We'll see them soon enough." She said as she held his hand and led him away.

I write things that feel right
But often the memories don't line up
I wonder why
In dreams my life speaks
Of horrors and pleasant things
Gripping a rifle at the bottom of a hole
Buttoning a child's coat when she's cold
A secret life that isn't mine
Yet is just as real as tonight
I wonder why
These memories are in my mind
I write of many lives
And I'm starting to think all are mine.

I came into this world as refuse,
Loved by a few.
They clothed me in white
And told me to be obedient and true,
If I was perhaps God would remember me when it's through.

There are some things you should never do,
Break a child is one, someday I'll tell number two.
I say this now as one who knows,
I'm no longer little or innocent
But I won't lie and say
My heart doesn't still shiver
When I'm reminded I'm refuse.
Thrown away and shredded in white
I no longer suffice
It's bitter and untrue
But all those years of guilt and Truth
Have burdened me,
So at twenty-six I feel ninety-two.

I can't shake this burden,
I'm too scared what will happen if I do
So I smile and nod,
Saying all is well and how are you?
My white clothing is in shreds
But don't think I've forgotten how it wears.
If one thing they taught me it's how to punish myself.
I was born into this world as refuse,
Loved by a few
Perhaps one day I will too.

I saw death today
It roamed the halls and walked away
I asked why it didn't stay
It said it isn't a hunter looking for prey
Or a scavenger seeking decay
I said I've seen it come on better days
It shook its head and smiled my way
"I only come when life is ugly or has gone away.
But not today.
I'll be swift on that day, I never care to cause delay."
It walked away and I counted the steps it took on its way
So I'd know when it comes that it's my day.

One went away,
In love and heart
He left a ****** trail along the way.
Another passed like a ship at night,
He wished he could stay
But the army called him away.
The third has yet to capture me
My heart is locked away
But it will return some day.

A voice echoed in the dark,
Even through the light of day
It was smooth and cut deep
Making my skin crawl and eyes weep,
It pries at my deepest thoughts and sweetest dreams
Of all that is and will never be,
When it comes I grimace and wait
For the five words it always says,
"Does it make you hate?"

Writing in the night
Marking this heart
With each layer
The marks are deeper
The screams are louder
And the darkness is thicker.
Sick or gifted?
Both speak of their brilliance.
Leaving a figure much different
Her face is calm and eyes cool
Her expression alludes to something cruel
She's grown up hard,
I worry she'll lose,
What's left of the child inside.
I pray none will cross her
For the darkness she exudes
Could crush even the strongest of virtues.

There was a dark place,
A little hole I called home,
Just for a night
It sheltered me when I was cold,
I dug deep just as I was told
Keep your head down I heard them say.
I watched as the stars above fell
And fire rained
From my little hole,
One by two,
My hole in the ground.

Turned myself inside out
Like a bag,
Looking for something lost inside
Handed out all the spare change,
Threw away the wrappers,
And bits of paper once important before.
Found a few IOU's,
Stacked away from many days
I should cash them in
Give myself the time.
Getting a little worn,
Time to have some fun.

Say something sweet
To take the pain away
You drink tonight to forget
Just a moment of this life
But my blood isn't sweet
My heart doesn't skip a beat
I'll look you in the eye
I won't flinch or deny
I gaze at life in a strange way

She walks through the streets
Her steps echo from the taps of heels on concrete
It's long gone dark and everyone's asleep
The moonlight glistens on her cheeks,
Her mascara has run clean.
She stops under a street light
Her shadow is facing the wrong way
A muffled cry escapes her mouth
And she begins to weep
She's already wept many times tonight
Her tears seem to find no end
"Come with me my dear." Said a figure in black as he wiped her tears.
She whimpered as her body released one last shivered cry
I watched as he led her away,
A beautiful woman
Even as a ghost she seemed alive.

Like a painter with a fresh canvas
Oils waiting and brushes ready
A writer uses words to convey,
The feeling of a spring day and the heartache of a lover gone away.
Stripping the feeling to write what is overflowing inside,
A writer writes.
On a later day if they chance upon their work they read what once was said
An emptier version of themselves now that the feelings are dead,
The words are hollow until they read the stains,
What wasn't said and left for imagination's sake.
To write and never know if you'll feel the same,
A hollow pursuit to tether a writer in place.
A reader becomes what the writer said and more importantly didn't say
They feel as the writer once did,
Passively undertaking words from another's heart.
A writer dies a little in each write but come the day when the body goes,
They come to life.

The hills are cold
Winter grows
Moon light touches snow
As another season goes

This land knows
Of every secret told
And life that's grown
Since it holds every bone

As I crouch down
I place my hand to the frozen ground
Knowing the plants will grow
From seeds sewn

I marvel at this place
A friend of old
Who's always home
Who takes me now and when I'm old

Basking in the sun
Every day it comes
Bathing in the moon
Whether quarter, half or full

I take a breath
And smile
Grateful
That for now I call this home.

I give it away
What once was said
In the dark of night
Under sleeping skies
As honest as the words may have been
You said it was your dearest truth
But I saw the flicker in your eyes
So I wondered but disregarded why
I shouldn't have
If my heart didn't trust you
Neither should I.

Why do they hurt?
A morning of overwhelming ache
Of the day ahead
Cleansed with a shower
But the voices never fade
Afternoons bright with light
I've always hated mid-day
The evening brings some peace
But the fear of night lurks
Relax enough as eyes grow dim
Sleep permits some fitful peace
Dreams and nightmares await
The best go far the worst further
3 am wakes with a sweaty start
A song or a voice of another brings relief
The next few hours are a coin flip of sanity
By dawn the battle has wore me weak
From restless sleep
The twilight mists disappear
And the cycle begins again
There must be sweet release.

The shelves are empty
The streets are filled with masked panic
Everyone is afraid of the unseen
But a bit more by the chaos it's causing
TP is the new gold
Rice and beans are the foods of kings
A chuckle at first followed by worried grin
A virus throwing us amuck
It didn't take much
We didn't have far to fall.
Enter one, enter all
To the throne room
A porcelain throne awaits
Absent a square of paper
Not a roll to be found
The first world falls.

A moment, a day, a month, a year
I don't have it in me to care
Perhaps I cared too much
That much is clear
Too little too late
I was always here
I'll keep living
In this glass globe of all I've ever feared.

Earthquakes came
Decent size they say
Broke the angel's cry
Dropped the trumpet from his golden hand
Probably a sign
It matches the mess of things
Even religions don't know what to say
Schools are closed and churches are empty
That's a sight
This town is full of both
They're on every street
Wierd to say
But I think we needed to breathe anyway.

I write because I've had enough,
Of days and nights above
Drowning me with no love
Asking for more when I gave enough,
For blood, sweat and years
Every knock at the door,
Asking for a little more
I choose not answer anymore
I've had enough, you hear
Push anymore and I'll surely swing
I don't live an angry life
But do not think me weak
I do not hold the fears you breed,
Threaten with death or poverty
I do not care,
I do not bow,
My enemy is mine,
There is a darkness in me
And I have made peace with it, you see
If you have come to take,
I will make you bleed.

I walked in the hills by my home,
I heard a whisper in the trees and stepped closer to see,
A vulture talking to me.
"Do you think they know?" He asked as I watched him pick flesh from bone,
A carcass decayed and old.
It was a sickening sight to behold.

"It shouldn't bother you so." He said.
"The grass and trees. Do you think they know?" He asked again.
I shook my head, confused.
"Where the soil and nutrients come from in which they grow?" He asked

I listened to this bird as he scavenged from death.
I thought him mad,
But as he spoke I saw the wisdom of his words,
"Dead things come to grow and life never goes."
I watched him eat his fill,
And it was no longer ugly but a beautiful thing.

I walked away wondering if they know,
If any know how we grow.
From soil on mountain peaks to the river that flows,
Death is only fear of change from what we think we know.

I like you, I really do
I don't love you yet
Maybe some day I'll say that too
For now take it slow
Because my rivers run deep and are full
I locked them away a while ago
It'll take some time and proof
For me to let them run through.
I'm learning how to love again
Please be patient.
This is the only time I'll say sorry,
For this person I have become.
Easy darling this path is treacherous
But the destination is worthy of you.

A fair green brooke
A gentle place
Steep in cliffs and mountain hooks
Nestled down in a valley of little space
Sits a town
Old and new
With a sky of grey and fields of brown
The air is wet from dew
What a place
It almost feels like home
But it only has one road
Once you go you never leave
So I gaze from the hill
Wishing I could travel down
Knowing once I did that would be it for me.

A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth
A timeless laughter playing on her lips
Like she knows the answers to the questions you didn't think to ask.

Her eyes dance with fire
The flames rising to a silent rhythm
Dancing amidst the falling rain
A storm of the sun.

Her face is a mask
Of freedom untamed,
Grace touches her skin like a warm day
While a reckoning haunts her gait.

The warmth of a mother
With wrath in mind
A contradiction some say
But her smile holds life and death like one of the same.

There is a head over there
Careful where you step
Oh yes, watch out for that ditch
Horrid place, lost a night or two in there.
Mind the flying imagery
They'll pick you up and take you for a wild ride.
Like that skeleton over there?
I'm working on its flesh.
Books are scattered everywhere
Feel free to pick one up and read
There are copies of comic books, history and poetry.
There are a couple of dead horses over there, beat them if you like.
Don't let the ghosts frighten you
They are characters who haven't quite found their heart beat.
Don't stray too far
There are a few wars here
****** things you aren't ready to see.
Sit down and have some tea
Let me tell you how you came to be.

He came near from blood and bones I fear
Stalking through the streets he called to me
I told him to leave but he didn't listen to me
So I gathered my things and left this place
I heard him call my name and ask me to wait
He promised sweet things but I told him not today
He thinks me mad for acting this way
But I saw in my dreams and heard from the dead
Never give in until he sits patiently and offers you nothing you haven't learned within
So I keep moving without hesitation
Waiting for the day when he sits and asks me how it went
I'll say fine or some other line
I'll stop moving and sit for a bit
Ask if he's heard from my kin
I'll admit it's been a long trek and yes I'm tired of this skin
There were days I wanted to sit but couldn't quit.
He'll ask why now I chose to sit
I'll say I've known for some time life is a shadow but till he saw this was my life to live I had to keep on
But I'm glad he's here to welcome me, my old friend.
Death follows and calls my name
But I keep moving till the day he stops calling me home.

I turned to see their distant faces,
My heart wanted to call out to them.
In my soul, family is all
But this is not home
And this blood is not mine to behold.
I long to hear them and belong with those supposed to be home
But they are not,
My soul reminds me every time.
My blood I know is home
But today, in this life
The ones of this flesh are not home,
Though I love them dearly
I know this red that flows
Only runs here.
Some day I'll go home
My blood will call to me,
And my aching soul will answer,
"At last I'm home."

I write in my dreams
Remembering only lines when I wake
Stay away, yells one voice
Another laments some pain
Some speak riddled words
Or passionate rants
The voices fill my mind
I think myself crazy sometimes
But they're all mine
I've given them names
Each a companion of mine
Some are terrifying,
I recommend to keep that in mind.
This morning I woke with one thought in mind
From my dreams in the night
Hellish though they were
I can sum them up in one line.
Watch the sun, it's coming up and about to shine on this field of poison vines.

If you could take it all away,
Would you?
Every regret and hurtful thing?

I look at them some days,
Finding them disgusting in every way,
But if I wash them away,
Scrub the pain till it's raw and fades,
I find myself staring at an empty space.
A bitter thing to find,
That your suffering was by design.
Leaving no choice but to make a place,
Build some sturdy shelves
And embrace the pain.

It makes you whole,
Defining you in little lines
Of how you love or hate,
If you can lose or find peace in simple things.
I'd keep them all,
Every hurtful thing.
Fill my shelves
So someday I can count how many times I fell to my knees,
A library of my deceit.
Written in books I'll feel complete,
That my life was a challenge and not once did I give up on the journey.

If you speak the same to prince or pauper every time,
               Honor will walk beside

If you walk with dignity even when life is disgraced and your burdens are too great,
             Strength will be your mate

If you give your all even when you think you'll fall,
               Greatness is your call

If you are humble enough to think you are small but never kneel to a mighty man's calls,
               Slavery's walls will fall

If you love with no fear and let yourself experience tears,
      Regret will never mark the mirror

If you can have and lose without becoming bitter,
          Freedom will be in your eyes

If you look up, see the stars and wonder who you are,
           Curiosity will take you far

If you've seen the slave and carried all he gave,
              You've seen a better way
          
If you walked away from power because it didn't set right in your bones,
        The time comes for you to lead

If money never held your eye because the value never matched inside,
             Wisdom will have its day

If you fight when you've been beat too many times,
              Your spirit never dies

If you do not bow when authority becomes tyranny,
             Revolution is set to rise

If you've slept in the dirt and brushed it away the next day with no shame,
          Nothing stands in your way

If these are things you crave and they are your way,
      Humanity will step from the fray

Unhappy with what I write
So I delete every line
And sit down and sigh
My mind is restless and tortures me
It's always been this way
Since I was a girl with too much imagination and odd things on my mind.
Writing is my release
It's the cure for my disease
But with every word I feed this thing
It consumes me with every heart beat.
My mind disturbs me at night
As I wander down this lonely path
Astray in a dark wood,
Seeing Dante's steps to my left.
I write,
For myself but I hope one day
These words will find you,
You seekers, dreamers and travelers from far away
My words are for you.
These stories must leave me some day
I bid you adieu and hope for a better day,
When my words will satisfy me and perhaps find their way to you.

He washed his hands many times
He was finicky like that
Served him well
He'd seen what dirt can do.
Many thought him odd
A grave digger so concerned with being clean
But who complains on a grave digger?
After a long day he scrubbed his hands and face
Cleaned the dirt from his nails
And scrubbed his knuckles clean
A fellow laughed and called him a name
He didn't care and went his way
Walking through the neat rows
Till he came to a modest place
He laid down to rest his weary body
Glancing up to make sure counted right
All the white stones looked the same
He checked the name and was content
He tucked his hands behind his head
Reveling that they were clean
He'd had enough of filth
Of mud and dirt caking his face
He remembered it choking his mouth and nose
What a way to die
In a war at that
No glorious demise
Just a muddy pit
But now he was clean
He looked once more at his grave
It had been decades
No one seemed to notice who dug the graves
They only saw his clean face
He smiled and closed his eyes
'Such a better a place.'

The poet's day is after we've gone away,
Our words left to read
By the hurt and strayed.
A little map of words
Guiding you through the darkest day.
Saying someone else once felt this way,
And no matter how much time passes
When someone turns to us with utter dismay,
We offer our hearts for all to see
And remind you of an old adage,
Nothing new under the sun.
As poets we write so when we go away
A little piece of us will stay,
To share your pain and express joy in all you do.

Turn halfway
You can't escape
An omen of yesterday
I've come today
To warn you it's past late
Turn around
Watch them struggle
An omen for today
I've come to say,
Death is coming clear the way.

Bottom of time
Working clocks a simple lie
Gravity descendent upon our lives
Answers raging in our minds
Never to the questions we desire
Breaking Fate's design
Hoping we'll outwit time
Our hearts and minds were not built
To die and pass without light
Folding space
Creasing our lives
Sandwiched in dimensions
Of reality's escapism
Gravity transcended time
So we reached back and saved our kind.