My mother was a writer.
I remember her,
papers spread out upon a bed sheet in the sand,
stacked pebbles protecting her work from the wind
as I made drip-castles at the water's edge
and braided crowns from wild poppies.
I would run to her so she could
rub grape sunscreen into my sandy shoulders
and I asked her once,
“Mama,
is that poetry?”
and she said “No little one,
you are poetry,
this only tries to be.”
and I thanked her,
and ran back to the water
to search for flat stones to skip,
and thought no more of poetry.

Shake out your shining tresses, Love
Undress their dark contour as the pink stars rise
And drowse around the smoke-ringed moon,
Like roses in a whiskey glass.
Take time to dream a dream, my Love,
Tresses fallen across the curve of your face --
Sleep away the late summer moon,
Spooning the stars asleep in pink lace.

Lay down your weary bones, my dear,
Stretch out on vanilla feather-winged dreams 
My whisky rose petal kisses blown into the night
Finding you on glittered opalescent moonbeams
Grab hold of pink-starred sweet slumber
As  silken tendrils puddle upon your chest
Tangled up in each other's lithe limbs
Our blissful hearts beat together in tender rest

you may not know me
face to face,
but you and I have connected
heart to heart through words.

Our lives are woven together by
the tapestry of words,
and into a living breathing poetry.

you and I are no longer strangers,
but fellow poets and sojourners
on this journey of creation.

Tossing and turning as I lie on my bed
But all these voices are screaming in my head
Stop! Please stop! I want to sleep.
Slowly, subtly, all these thoughts linger and creep.

Voices of the past saying,
'You can't make it.'
Voices of failure saying,
'Not outstanding. Go back and sit.'

Lies of the enemy are clouding my brain
Without God, by now, I'd be insane.
I'm remembering my mistakes and all
Unpleasant memories, they make me feel small.

My mind is a battlefield
But my victory has been sealed
I know I'll get through this
Because He is faithful. I am His.

I take out my old pen
And begin to write to you
Scribbling, pausing, wavering
Of us, and life, and time, and us.

I dip my pen in fairy dust
And write to you
A message
Of two seas meeting, and two breaths mingling,

I dip my pen in time
And write to you
A song
Of slow minutes, long hours, quick heartbeats

I dip my pen in tar
And write to you
An elegy
Of raging pasts and lingering remorse

I dip my pen in water
And write to you
A scroll full
Of doubts and worries;  headless snakes

I dip my pen in blood
And write to you
A promise
Of forever and always

I put my pen away
And sit back, sigh deep, rocking gently
I sign my words in kisses
And cross my heart to you.

Fear running through me
Memories flowing through my mind
Like the tears are flowing down my face
You're yelling and throwing things out of anger again
Just like you did years ago when you lived with me
You're angry again
Upset for no reason
While I sit here scarred by your anger
Im affected by my past
While my past is caused by you
Dad please calm down
Please just breathe
Please relax
Please stop taking your anger out on me
Please stop reminding me about how broken my life is
I dont have a home
No matter where I go
There will be yelling
There will be hatred
There will be tears
There will be no love
Im alone
Surrounded by anger
But spilling tears instead of screaming words