It started with a hint upon the air,
the telltale heaviness of anticipation.
A few brave drops fall,
testing their reception on this earth.
Then the drops fall in earnest,
surging down on she who is uncloaked,
embracing the coolness on her skin,
each drop a sweet lingering kiss.
The thunder roars, both terrifying and exhilarating.
The lighting flashes, the wind picks up,
tangling her hair with earnest.
Yet still she stands, embolden by the chaos,
finding peace and comfort in it all.
Your love is a summer storm,
earth-shattering,
deafening,
irresistibly beautiful.

I could write erotica
Words flushed with heat
And lust
A bare trace of plot
Sliding through the lines
like soft skin on silk sheets.

I could paint pictures
with sultry poses,
long limbs entwined in a battle of flesh,
pictures to bring a tingle,
a shiver dancing across your skin.

I could whisper salacious stories
with my lips just above your ear,
hot breath and a teasing lilt,
testing the boundaries of self-control.

I could pass along this poem,
lay forth my cards,
exposed provocatively on the table,
making my intentions known.

haughty and hateful or pitilessly played,
head freed from embroidered shoulders,
her heart beat, heavy, behind corseted layers.
Temptress or model maiden,
she fell just the same.
The jewel in a king’s crown,
cast away for the next shining stone.

You know what they say about bleeding hearts.
Should’ve walled it in,
stitched it up from the start.
Shouldn’t be such a basket case
carry worry and pain
in every line of your face.
Should’ve walked upright
line your eyes,
keep your smile light.
Lock your heart inside
and if it leaks,
be sure to pin a smile,
on your cheeks.

33 guns
thousands of bullets rain
58 fall
thousands of bullets fly
500 more wounded
thousands of bullets spent,
one man,
thousands of bullets.
Guns roll out,
family treasures, sport, food, keepsakes
Power and destruction,
life and death.
Thousands of guns out,
now people are out.
Hundreds have fallen:
schools, theaters, clubs, concerts,
malls, stadiums, streets– but don’t take away our rights…
Thousands of bullets, stinging farewell kisses

it’s a blatant lie,
deception in the smoothness of its texture,
empty of flavor,
a “substitute” for chocolate,
though it doesn’t come close.
It’s the cake of choice for romantics,
the red of passion
encased in sweetness.
red and white,
passion and purity,
a walking contradiction,
done up with sprinkles.

Kiss me with your iron lips,
cold, unyielding, rigid as your mind.
Your smoke curls down,
caresses my hips.
I smell of rain and trees
and fragrant flowers,
but when we join,
your scent is all that matters.
Harsh, coppery, it weighs on
my tongue,
harassing my senses,
and pushing me down.
We move together,
a torrid of steps,
I try to be flexible,
sway around your form.
You’re stubborn,
push me away,
make me bend to you.
I shed tears,
rivers deep enough for fish.
My cries are that of an eagle,
an owl, a hawk,
--take your pick.
Hands shaking,
broken trees never replaced.
My world is dying,
stuck under
your heavy boot,
one of rubber,
the dominance of men,
of industry and
selfish civilization
which grind away at me until
I am hurt,
beyond repair.
I am nature and you are man.

Some days I wake up from dreams
unsure,
if I am going to grow up to be
a warrior
or worrier.

Here's a poem to celebrate poetry month!

Challenge by Jean Nette

Life, I challenge you to try me,
Doom me to unending pain;
Stay my hand, becloud my vision,
Break my heart and then-- again.

Shatter every dream I've cherished,
Fill my heart with ruthless fear;
Follow every smile that cheers me
With a bitter, blinding tear.

Thus I dare you; you can try me,
Seek to make me cringe and moan,
Still my unbound soul defies you,
I'll withstand you--and, alone!

I thought I was drowning,
but now I realize I’ve been treading water,
sure the waves have crashed down on me, water
flooding my mouth, but my head stayed high as I bobbed.
Now I know I’m drowning,
the lights shimmer otherworldly, no longer harsh to my eyes
the water is feeling warmer, in my mouth, laying on my lungs,
the weight of anxiety and stress---and water, that I can’t expel
The sound is no longer deafening, a low hum is building in my ears and
        the black swirls around my eyes and I am…gone

tension lies beneath this smile,
a nervous energy fueled by too little sleep and anticipation of the future.
music helps… sometimes. writing is barely an escape.
these legs long to run, arms long to strike.
left hook, right uppercut, elbow to the face.
enemies only i can see.
a scream is withheld, scorching my throat with its intensity.
my lips are bruised, but not from your mouth.
troubled by my own fears, anxiety.
i itch to move, as if that will shake my troubles,
i could sprint for the exit, but they’d lash out,
coiling around my ankle, yanking me down

I write as if my heart still lies heavy within;
the words pour as the music flows and I fall
into the sense of calm it brings me. The fresh
way I see the world after; the beauty of each
moment, the murmuring of my fellow souls,
as our words rise up to the stars above,
safe in this world of anonymity.

I write as if my heart still lies heavy within;
but I have not held it for some time.
It’s been ripped and shared. Each little letter
a piece of my heart and soul.

I write as if my heart still lies heavy within;
it’s too scattered now for me to see,
But you,
    you hold the largest piece of all.

pull out the knife,
from where you slid it in my side.
Let the blood,
rich and rosy,
drench your hands,
a reminder, a memento
to the times we passed
untainted, warm in the sun.
Avert your eyes,
from my prostrate pain,
out of sight,
you can raise your head,
pretending the role you played
didn’t bring me down.

We’re twins, you and I.
Matching lines and hurting hearts,
the overwhelming waves that crash down on me,
thundering in my ears and making white noise.
My lines are black, just like my words
scribbled, forceful, and raw.
Yours are red,
vibrant and striking against your pale skin.
Your thoughts are just as red, just as intense,
vulnerable.
Our hearts are one piece, fitted together,
we are twins now,
You and I.

The setting sun reaches out to me,
earnestly stretching to cup my face.
I shrink back from its warmth, cold as I am.
The sun is beautiful, warm, comforting.
And yet, it is too far away; the comfort is an illusion.
The cold seeps in me, weighing on my bones and making me slow.
I long for that warmth, my face turns almost automatically to the sun,
wishing it closer, warmer, stronger, anything.
The cold is spreading through, settling in my heart,
claiming my body, my mind.
And here I am again, stuck, cold, tired.

My experience doesn’t matter,
it’s cookie cutter, the typical growing-up story.
Fending off boys and snapping bra straps,
Pushing off voices pressing in,
a pair of earmuffs I can’t peel away.
My eyes know to dart around,
To look behind that bush, find the most direct, most lit path
The casual-not-so-accidental grab at parties,
too strong arms reaching for a hug that I can’t break out of,
crushing me in, sweat and too much cologne muffling my breaths
and then, thankfully they come, my friends swoop in,
fierce warriors, my sworn protectors.
I find safety in their arms.
We are bonded by shared experience,
multiplying daily in number.
Stand up, brush off your jeans, and put your hands to work,
find your voice.
I am not unique in my experience.
Those strong arms dripping sweat and cologne will reach for someone else,
a lesson must be learned and we will teach them
Put our voices proud, project them to the sky,
let them fall as comets, spreading fire,
and bringing us warmth and light

I remember his voice, pitched-low,
a smooth glass of Scotch, but hard to swallow this time.
Tension unfurled in my stomach, foreboding locked my legs.
My hands quivered, I shoved them away,
eyes down, my firm voice, met with anger,
outraged at this personal slight.
We walked by, granting space for his rage,
his ego too big to share the street, to let us walk by unbothered.
Rejection hung in the air, weighed down by our fear.
The sounds of his steps, his speech coming faster more aggressive,
mimicking his steps.
My head spun, the air came too quick, panic pounded at the door
to my head, pressing its way in.
Our feet began to slap the ground, **** these sandals,
a call to him, an encouragement, us defenseless in the emptied street.
The elevator felt unsafe, plain and empty walls.
My window was securely fastened despite the heat,
door double bolted, shaking on the bed,
free from adrenaline and moved by fear.
The room was too empty, too vulnerable,
comfort only from my feeble connection to my home.
Sweaty, tired hands of mine clutched it to me,
falling asleep with the safety of his voice,
swirling around me, shoving off the unwanted
traces of chilling words and tear-stained makeup.

kiss me to draw out the poison
of those who came before.
Run your fingers on my skin
to erase greedy hands and stolen strokes.
Possess my body,
entrance me with your mouth,
with hungry lips and burning hands.
I’ll rise to meet you,
let my skin meld to yours,
until we’re bound together to meet
the ugliness of the world.

I want to cauterize my feelings,
walk on broken glass un-pained,
at least that would stop me from calling out
your name.

I’m feeling dangerous tonight
fire in my eyes, and you know you’ll
have to fight,
or fall down before me.

Kiss my insecurity,
erase the doubt beneath.
Hug me close, chase away the chill of fear.
Murmur words of comfort,
the rhythm of your voice will carry me away.

There should be a word,
for when you read poetry,
or when you write it,
and the feeling that follows,
or leads.
Sadness tinged with longing,
shot through with love,
trailing fatigue, and
overhung with a rawness of true
emotion,
I want a word for that.

I just want to go outside
The stretch between classes is just enough of a tease
wind blowing, leaves flying, the sun warming my face
And then walls.
Walls closing in, walls enclosing knowledge, some walls that are just walls
My seat can’t be by the windows, too many distractions.
Twitchy feet and a wandering mind
What am I to do?
Day after day, my routine is stuck
food, class, lift until I collapse, food again, and then turning,
Facing that monstrous pile of work breaking my desk
The sun shines, the leaves play
I can do work outside
lies and compromise
Chained to the desk as time ticks by
I just want to go outside

New perfume in the air, sweeter than I normally like
the sweetness cannot erase the memory of that night.
Beer music bodies drink music night bodies music drink you
I can’t wear those clothes anymore, not the perfume, not the makeup.
I want to forget it all, the slideshow that starts playing on repeat.
I want to feel something, I feel numb.

I want to cut, rid my skin of your memory and replace it with my own
I want to stop eating, until the starvation clears me out, makes me new
I want to eat everything, so I feel some semblance of full.
I want to do something to forget that time with you.

Eyes follow me in the street, they’re not yours, but my body doesn’t care
heart quickens, breath shakes, I am afraid.
Anger replaces fear, bottled up until I just want to scream
LEAVE ME ALONE
I walk to the school, to the market, and I don’t dress up for you

My homework sits out but I can’t do it today, maybe tomorrow,
I said that yesterday but the numbness won’t go away,
I feel detached, uncaring.
I need to cry, to break things, to heal and yet I’m stuck in this chair,
this one room.
I feel dead inside, remind myself to eat, to drink water, to sleep, to move.
Sweet perfumes lingers in the air, begging me to start over, to forget, to walk away.
But with it on, I still think of you.

My heart seems so shiny and new,
in tip top shape, I get it inspected every year, thank you very much.
Underneath the paint job is a rusted mess,
peeling off in huge strips and trailing behind.
It seems so sturdy and infallible,
unyielding and unflinching in the eyes of chaos.
But if you were to push, to drive too far inward,
it would collapse, crunching, to half the size.
Scars exposed, shoddy repairs unveiled,
at the mercy of the outside world,
cold and cruel, gripping the worn metal tight,
leaving frosted fingers in its wake,
a chill to shake me to the core.


My heart seems so shiny and new,
but underneath it’s fragile,
just like you.

Sing to me our song again,
promise and love in the refrain,
the melody speaks of memories,
laughing, tears, sunshine, rain.
Chords clamor to be heard,
the strong undertones to carry us through.
Sing to me from across the ocean,
sing until your lungs hurt, your throat burns,
sing until I hear,
your love.

wine, in perfect measure,
is a bridge from tortured mind
to blank page.
Too little and the words
get stuck in my fingers.
Flowing too freely,
and I am heavy,
lost to the power of thought.
wine, my translator divine,
I am set free
to speak my truth and fall back,
satisfied.

The resilience of yellow,
Yellow, which is so often brushed off
“eggy” they say or “oh god, not lemon”
it’s more than that.
The folds of the petal,
velvety, resilient to the world it faces.
Uprooted it may be,
but tall and proud it stands.
The arms are outstretched, perfume given away freely.
Beautiful, fragile, captivating.

There’s a heat in my bones,
a driving force within. My soul
is relentless, untethered by the music
Bodies clash and the lights flash,
disorienting.
The bitter bite of ***** scorches
my throat.
I see your face in the crowd, then
step left and you are gone,
an illusion of my heart and mind,
accelerated by the night.
Step right,
into regret and fatigue.
The heaviness in my legs,
my heart. The music rushes,
picks me up,
Spin once and I remember,
this is the time to be free.

“professional editing” sounds so pretentious, I know
I’ve heard the jokes before, you aren’t my latest comedian
few would call me pretentious,
weird maybe, goofy probably, energetic definitely
my major is a map to my life,
everything makes more sense to me when it’s written down
“English major” is too broad of a window,
I need the tight tunnel of editing to get me to the end,
to lead me to the light.

The familiar whirlwind of emotion rises up again,
a never-ending cycle of heavy, dark clothes,
a few light delicates throw in, barely visible  
and fading
     fast.
This weekly ritual, the pauses, the tone,
memorized down to the digit.
I grow weary, carrying out the motions and
Dreaming of the end, hanging it all out to dry
to be embraced by the ever-welcoming sun and its
loving, warm rays.

I sat down one day, thinking of writing you a haiku
I wondered aloud what words to write,
Words that could describe how I feel about you
Not common words, but words that have a bite.
An array of words to choose from, but what to pick?

My thoughts are all scrambled, in need of sorting
I wish to show you this wasn't all a trick,
That I didn't want to leave you hurting.
Our time together was always ticking
The i s are dotted and the t s crossed
I'd hate for you to think I'm quitting
But it's time to think of the cost.
We must go our separate ways now
Fresh and new beneath the sky
We've done our best and must take a bow
This is our last goodbye.

I want to write a love poem, but I just can’t find the words
Each day with you is new, a rip off daily calendar
some days I laugh until I cry, other days
I’m coughing up sobs and regret
and still more I just don’t get.
I want to write a love poem, but that’s not how this works.
I can’t write of love, though it fills my days with sunshine.
Love is not so easily described, only understood if you’re in the throes of it.
People understand pain, loss, but not love,
I could say how it feels today:
love is a wild mystery, a traipse through a jungle with no map in hand.
The rain pours down, cool on my skin, refreshing
The sun rays reach me through the impossibly green canopy
I feel the strength of the trees, the hope of the green shoots,
the wild freedom of the monkeys overhead.
The rhythm lies within me and the song of the birds echoes
the song of my heart.
My love is strong, wild, and largely unexplored;
I make the path as I go on my way,
curious tourist and determined adventurer
Today my love is warmth and sun
exhilarating times and smiles wrapped into one

Without the sun
the flower fails to bloom,
curled in with her sadness and gloom.
With no flowers out
the sun fails to rise,
to spread his rays across the sky
and bring his warmth and cheer,
Two beings on different times
leading to each of their demise,
stars lined up solemnly
as the moon bears witness
to this tragedy.

I put a smile on
till I faked it true.
In a world of weeds,
I’m a flower
with sun in my leaves,
rays of joy to give away,
I have abundance.
My stalk has grown thick
fed on the peace of rain,
warmth of sun,
and freedom of air.
I have grown strong.

the gauntlet is thrown down, eyes focused on the field
the weight of expectation hangs,
my mind begins to reel
Your hesitation is palpable
Muscles tensed, nerves singing, hands shaking
will you take the chance and fight,
rage against the dark above,
the one that lays on your mind,
extinguishing the light?
your decision, our future, all intertwined
and all I can do is sit and wait and slowly lose my mind

At the hands of men, I learned the lessons of life.

I first learned fear with your towering figure, explosive temper, shaking hands, and abrasive voice. The older I got, the more the words cut me, a double blow of volume and weight. The tremors of my body visible for all to see, they angered you, but I could see nothing through my blurred eyes. My head spun as my lungs forgot how to breathe and I lost myself in your anger.

Another taught me vulnerability. In the shadows of your room with your girlfriend next door, I was your puppet and you my master. You tarnished me, made me unclean. You stole from me my vulnerability, killed the me that breathed easy. At your hands, I lost myself.

And then I learned pain-at the hands of a different tutor, but at this point it’s all the same. I learned pain in the comfort of my room, cloaked in that fuzzy green blanket. I learned the kind of pain that tears through the heart and childishly demands attention at every given moment; an obnoxious nagging pain with its grating voice and quick jabs in the ribs. I learned the pain of regret, of indecision, of betrayal. Tears marked the torment of my mind, songs didn’t hit me the same. My heart was an open wound at the mercy of the elements around. I sought healing and peace, wound stitched closed, but such things leave scars. I still remember that lesson well, in your warmth and in your piercing blue eyes, I learned pain of the truest kind.

At the hands of men, I learned the lessons of life. But in my hands, that life blooms.

My heart feels blocked, my fingers unable to unlock its doors.
Perhaps time moves too fast
for it to be processed.
Or maybe this icy chill has crept in
through my thick curtains and made its home
in my chest.
My heart, my mind are numb.
Where are you emotions? Where are you poems?
The words don’t pour out anymore,
I’ve seemed to have lost my voice
or maybe I’ve gotten used to being silenced.

There are three freckles on my bottom lip,
cute spots of originality,
tiny, almost nonexistent.
I wanted you to notice them,
to look closely at me, see me uncloaked.
A scar rings my wrist,
a token of love from a too enthusiastic dog,
did your lips ever find it?
A ragged line splits my knee in two,
screaming a story, one of laughter and life,
your fingers never paused there, you don’t know that scar.
Tattoos yes, you’ve familiarized yourself,
Bold and black, splotches of scattered color,
you’ve seen them all.
My skin maps experience, moments of light and sorrow
the key lies in my mind, my eyes, my smile.
It’s not a puzzle fit for all,
but here I am, words on my lips and love in my mind

I’m that fiddle in the corner,
Broken down and cob-webbed up.
Passed over for the shiny violin,
sleek, pure sound and powerful notes,
I’m dull in comparison, squeaking out what I can,
strings worn by age and disuse.
I was beautiful once, cherished, put away free
of finger-prints and dust.
The lid closed for longer each time,
I mourned the lack of sun, lost my voice to time.
I am a fiddle still,
but I’ll soon sink into grime.

You steal from me,
laughter from my throat,
the smile in my eyes
you’ve stolen memories
I can’t escape the irony,
gentle rain falling,
replacing tears I could have wept
but you’ve stolen them all away
all shed for you until
I had nothing left,
my eyes dry and destitute
The silence is heavy, shrouding my ears,
settling on my shoulders
I have nothing left to give,
you’ve taken it all
over-hungry, overreaching
the scraps you yanked from the table and devoured
I have nothing left to give, no warmth or love
My heart is wrung dry, hung outside,
battered by the unwavering elements
You’d think the rain would replenish it, lend me strength
but instead I sit on the ledge
with only lingering thoughts of you to keep me warm.

with promises of forever,
I touched the love locks,
lit up by city sights and ocean views,
metal hearts hung, with faded names.
I touched the locks to bring some luck,
touched them with the promise of us.
That lock long since broken,
falls pathetic to the ground,
empty promises spill forth,
but no one is around
to see it fall.
I looked for love and found it lacking,
and you left, got to packing,
leaving broken metal on the ground,
the last mark of love,
of us,
underneath the bridge of locks,
forgotten tributes of love.

Take away my pain, peel back the layers
of aged, crumbling paint.
I’m not in the wrong here, but my heart cries
tears and shreds itself up,
a bomb I never thought active.
Take away my pain,
your love was my warmth, my haven of light,
but now the shadows creep in
and the rocks pull me down.
Take away my pain, that of my naïve heart,
the one that loved you unflinchingly
and is taught to love you still.
Take away my pain,
you made the choice, wavered in love,
take my pain and give it
to the ***** in your bed.

I’m tired, the kind of tired that makes you want to curl up and
forget the day.
My blankets, soft, warm, green,
will heat me up and soothe away my fears.
I’m tired of watching you beyond the glass,
it’s frosted with distance, indecision, and
loneliness.
I see your figure though the pane and want to call out,
bring you in, give you cocoa, and fall into a pile of ease, and
natural love.
Fall back in love with me.
Leave the cold and come back into my arms, I’ll keep you
from the world,
and we’ll hide away,
warmed by wood and fire.
You'll stay by my side,
my love, my life, my happiness,
solidified.

I grew up with trees,
The orchard filled with light and the soft breeze
which came by daily
My trees had strong roots, unfurled deep into the soil,
rooted in humanity and beautiful for it.
I loved my trees, strong as they were,
a guide to a girl lost in the night.
My trees.
Then they came for my trees, when I was away
Tore at their bark and lashed at their roots,
peeling away the moss.
My trees, the branches of hope given to me,
the support and shade, dependably there.
Hurt, but not broken,
my trees do grow tall,
healing as the seasons go.
The scars still remain, etched deep and cruel.
My trees fight
Push away with sharp branches and unforgiving bark,
resisting the rough whispers of the night,
the ugly grabbing hands, the yielded axes, biting words
unjustified, entranced by our bursts of bloom,
our heavenly perfume. Why must we fight them off?

How many times do I have to say that I’m not okay
before you start listening with your heart instead of your mouth?
Your heart, once warm to the touch, protected by briars
and a sphinx, though I thought them unreal.
I’ve tried to solve the riddle, to think it through, to answer right,
but your heart remains closed off to me and I sit through the night,
wondering how we got here, to this point of isolation.
Your mind is closed, heart unreachable, words sparse,
and yet I think to break down these walls, climb them,
push through them until I’ve found you in the
center of it all.

I won’t get your name tattooed on me,
just in case

I wasn’t looking for love
when I met you.
I was tall, lanky,
a loud girl you could say.
You were quiet, unassuming,
curls untamable.
Years passed without much there
between us.
I fell in love with you
beneath the stars-
in a crowded tent, fighting off sleep,
near the great big fire and its loving heat,
running through rain,
roaming around,
laughing.
I fell in love with you
when I was young,
too young to know the world,
to see its demons and feel its pain,
back when my heart was open, fresh,
and trusting.
And I’ve stayed in love with you,
through your darkest days and my twisted path,
my heart is bruised now,
stitched together, tattooed with your name,
but loving you all the same.

Pining is not a good look for me,
it clashes with my flowing shirts
and distracts from my lemon scarf.
Longing is just a few shades better,
occasionally matching my blue blouse.
Anger works okay, but it seems fake,
like my vibrant lips or 4-inch heels.
Love would work, it’d blend beautifully
with my color scheme,
make each plain top sparkle, but alas,
love is out of season, a terrible throwback
without being vintage,
what am I left with?

What is wrong with you?
Hold this little book close,
the best of friends
and you’ll know why I’ll reach
         the breaking point