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May 2021 · 302
Shannon May 2021
I keep pain in my pocket
in a white ribbon packet
Burning while I kneel in faith
that I should dance
In God's good grace-
that I should love a cleaner way
So I may not scare the light away
with my tendency to
enticingly to-
lead with all my shattered pieces
lonely creases
sing their own enticing  song.
It can't be long
before it's heard and
once more there is fodder
another fool into deep water
And like a totem that I bear-
Hope remains, beyond repair.
Oct 2020 · 2.4k
Shannon Oct 2020
The ice I wear is silence.
As for diamonds, I don't own them.
I save ruby for my lips.
I save swagger for my hips.
I save crystal for my gin.
And the only thing I age is grace.
As for me I grow divinity-
The sin in me,
is confidently rising as I walk into the room.
If I make you feel I'm naked
when your burden down with fur-
"What does he see in her?"
If I make you feel uneasy,
and hold him just so tighter
because my steps are lighter
although my thighs are trunks
like mighty oaks they hold me high
so I can match my Tiffany eyes
to the Tiffany sky.
Wear your silver, wear your gold.
And I'll wear nothing loud and bold.
How dare I not adorn.
Not care about your scorn?
I am the bracelet that wraps the wrist,
I am the earrings lazy laying.
Designers drape me in goddess garb
while your childish glitter is fraying.
I wear years like men wear watches-
Proud and vainly count the notches.
Watch me slither, watch me wander.
Helpless but to become fonder.
This is a statement about aging and social media and the eternal dialogue of women and value.
Aug 2018 · 310
The Young, The Dying
Shannon Aug 2018
The only time in an ordinary life that dying seems beautiful is when you are a teenager. That beautiful time where your skin is tightly wrapped around you like Saran Wrap and your mind believes every tear you push out of your eyes matters, counts towards something. You cry because your heart got broken? That matters, put it in your portfolio of beautiful broken pieces. You cry because you did not make the team/the grade/the cut/the audition/the clique/the bus … all of these things matter when your book is full of hauntingly empty pages. What nobody tells you is that once you fill your book with these small slights, you have less and less pages left for the big stuff that’s coming. The big stuff that should really fill your book. By the time you have something to write in your big book of beautiful broken pieces, you’ve filled it with so much crap and nonsense that there is nothing left to say.
I have nothing for you then.
Stop readingStop mother ******* reading.
I have nothing.
I am ******* empty.
I have nothing.
This was the beginning of a short story I am writing. I came back to it a bit later and think it would make a great essay.
Aug 2018 · 419
The Thing About Love
Shannon Aug 2018
Ginger beer
In the hemisphere
celestial haze
Quasar waves.
Shooting stars
and loud guitars
and cosmic dust.

Sahn 07/17
Aug 2018 · 279
Love and Marriage
Shannon Aug 2018
Blanket of blackest wool above
Bleeding yellow in the out-there
And on the  wooden chairs painted white
we sit to watch.
63 moons glide gracefully
and say the things
that move from tongues to fingertips
Because touch
Lands sooner than the bitter words
It was under the nebulae
Where you gave me a ring
which you slung round a planet
with a ladder and rope
and you gave me a promise that is hung round the sun
so I jump up ride it when it if it orbits me slowly
In a moment of tiny, of small and sooner.
in a moment that's billions
of miles away
so before we we've been born
and before we've been lovers-
a star somewhere tucked our whole story away.
I will find us a night cloud
thick with our longings
and send it out shining to sell to the night.
Yes, I'll pack it up warmly
and hold it quite tightly then send it out sailing on
night after night.

SAHN 07/18
Aug 2018 · 224
Shannon Aug 2018
Shards of the glass pierce my atmosphere-
Rocket Ships to the floor .
And as the red wine swells to pools beneath
I am swaying to the music of momentum-
Just enough so one might see,
That beautiful whole that once was me.

Sahn 7/26/17
Oct 2017 · 567
Ship Wrecked
Shannon Oct 2017
The water that is crushing me
is keeping me afloat.
I cannot feel the ground beneath,
and I'm not sure I can stand.
The pressure that is bearing me
is holding all my insides in
No longer see a shoreline
and I can't know I won't drown.
As I navigate myself,
and twist to find my East and West
I realize I've made quite a mess-
Left my compass with a gull.
The bird you see,
liked shiny things
and as I thought I had no use
for which direction
I might take
I felt it
quite an easy trade-
the weight of choices off my hands
And the bird with flightpath clear.
The sodden feel of water now
has permeated all my pores
and left me to shed salty tears
My feet ache for the ground.
I will tumble like the seaglass
with each wave my edges blur
perhaps the the sea will make me clean
Stripped of sin
and stripped of ache.
Perhaps this long night will end soon
If I can just
just keep
treading water...
just a while more.

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. Comments and critiques welcome. I'd love you to add me so I can see and read your work as well.
Oct 2017 · 543
The Rig
Shannon Oct 2017
I got loadbearing feet.
-18 wheeler legs.
drag my demons and devils
in the tanker behind
I stand tall,
Oh this weight.
"She's a good one,"
they'll say,
not understanding
How fast I can leave.
"If you catch her-
there's  cement foundation
under the moss that
grows over her faith."
Hurricane glass in my ocean gray eyes
I've got steel framed thoracic spine
that holds my haul steady.
I tied down my baggage
with bungee and coil.
I've got road ready feet
as there's asphalt that's burning.
I've got weight bearing soul-
and spare beneath the hood,
I've got to keep it moving though
As I'm just passing through.

I am grateful for those who share in the my passion. Please say hello, please feel free to suggest.
Jul 2017 · 479
Looking Glass
Shannon Jul 2017
Broken piece pierce the atmosphere.
Rocket ships  to the floor beneath.
Shards of shimmering fragments form
Sharp edges rocking
Swaying to the music of momentum.
Just enough so one might see,
That beautiful whole that once was me.

Sahn 7.17
Apr 2017 · 476
Shannon Apr 2017
The stones I choose were
smooth and grey
to build a cairn
that marked the end.
So cold were they
I thought them wet
Laden with my dark regret.
As for all I could not keep,
I placed them gently, buried deep .
Frigid I
I could not thaw-
The fault was mine,
in the after all.

Aug 2016 · 664
How To Tend The Fire
Shannon Aug 2016
There is a funeral pyre
I built as I walk.
A parade of orange flames
down the street,
blue centers lapping like puppies
trying to get my attention.
And I let that ache burn
with the ashy residue
that lies thick on
all my clothes
and the tongue where
I kissed you.
I left the love, I left the lover
but, Oh! the embers wear me round my neck like a like an sailor's orange sky
Struck a match to patch the hole.
And everywhere I go I am the mourner and the deceased.
Outliving the everlasting,
wearing thin evermore.
Apr 2016 · 3.3k
Our Affair
Shannon Apr 2016
As i throw it, watch it shatter
Pick discretion-make them matter
As i fumble for the clock
And **** upon his lovely ****
Because my tongue is sharp and wicked
You taste of lemons when i lick it.
Remember when I'm going down
This queen wears a jaded crown.
And when your grip has found my hair
Pull it till the devil's there.

Sahn 4/16
Apr 2016 · 1.1k
Bite The Giver
Shannon Apr 2016
Here's this marble heart to give you
Sculpted by the schoolyard scrapes
And kitchens grapes
Fed one by one
Cool and sweet beneath my tongue.
A wooden heart that's held inside
These metal ribs to catch my sighs-
And when I feel the need to flee
I'll kick start this rusted knee.
Inside this ancient Chinese vase
Is my very lovely face.
Valuable to only me-
Filled with cracks that you can't see.
My fingers long, the wedding band
For I married sugar sand
My hair is heaps of fireflies
Who whisper sweet their bedroom lies
And you will take me by the thread
That pulls me back into the bed?
And you will take your time to paint
Straight lines that divide the saint?
And you will watch my crippled frame
See Monet inside my pain?
I'll open up the garden skies
To meet him where the trestles rise.
For I have met a man today
This time, I may not run away.
In my outstretched redwood palm
Fate has left me coins and calm.
Bite, my lover, as they quiver-
The lips that kiss you,
Bite the giver.

Sahn 4/13/16
Thank you for spending some time here.
Apr 2016 · 437
Shannon Apr 2016
When I am not stone,
When I'm not stiff with tears.
When I'm not cold to touch,
Love me my dears.

Sahn 4/13/16
Feb 2016 · 565
In the time of Famine
Shannon Feb 2016
I'm waiting on that bench of ours,

where we kissed among the stars

and made a lullaby to sing

for a babe we didn’t bring.

I’m counting as the cars ride by

all the trips we didn’t try

and all the kisses in the rain

to make us feel in love again.

I’m climbing down the basement stairs

to bury secrets,  no one cares.

In the time of famine, dearest

We  devour what is nearest.

Considering your starving heart

you’ll  digest me part by part.
Shannon Jan 2016
i walked into a lions den
and tapped the beast upon his brow.
He turned to me with deep surprise
and let out a tremendous growl.
I said to him, I must confess.
I've come to be your meal tonight.
The lion looked me up and down
at all the tender parts to bite.
The lion let the kettle boil
But couldn't stop himself to ask
just why the sweetest tasting thing
would commit to such a gruesome task.
I looked that lion in the eye and
and spoke with an alarming calm.
"Lion, find my heart to be
Full of those that meant me harm.
take them, may they give you strength
when they could give me only sorrow.
Have them, may they feed your fire
i'll start finding love tomorrow. "

shannon april alice 1/19/16
it's all about how we recover, it's all about the ability to continue to believe. I do.
Shannon Oct 2015
i want 75 holidays with you,
75 times you make me blush.
i want 75 languages to say the things that get caught in my throat
75 prayers and
ways to say 'i'm sorry'
i want days that end too quickly
and legs that drape in sleepy closeness.
I want 75 leap years left with you
mountains and rocks to heave with you.
75 holidays that end with dreamy
fireplaces and walks that take in
cold brisk air
and 75 sly smiles as
i hide salt in the sugar
and you laugh out the oatmeal
and chase me through morning-
i want 75 kisses,
were you lean in too close
and i feel with my palms
the brick of the wall.
and i close my eyes tightly
and get lost in the ship of
your face and your lips and
your 75 ways of breathing softly into me.
I want 75 tears to wash away.
75 times you broke my heart
and gave me doubts and fears
and wrapped them in the
ordinary days.
And 75 ways to forgive me,
and then more to forgive myself-
75 bones that creak with age
wrinkles under chins, and
merry in the corners of our eyes-
75 ways you're my best friend
and the paste of me, the guts of me.
75 % the best of me-
I want 75 more healthy days with you.
days when we remember
why we started this together.
and when the sun is setting,
oh lord just give me this-
i want 75 small kisses on your check
before i join you...
and then i want just 74 more lifetimes
to find you over again
and count this all over again.
i do not have this great love but i have had great enough heartbreaks to know that this is what it should be, when if ever, it is. thanks for sharing.
Aug 2015 · 680
Shannon Aug 2015
i worry in tenses.
past, present and future
to stave off the huntsman whose after my head.
dire regrets are no more of a reaper
than the incubus lying still under my bed.
it's not the long shadow that
quickens my heartbeat
it's who he belongs to frightens me so.
not what i acknowledge
that gives me cold blood chills
it's all of the lovers i'll have to forego.
Cerberus came once to settle my debtor
handing him payment, i'm awful contrite.
for now one can love me
and no one can mourn as i'm
burdened to love him in black hematite.

Sahn 08/10/15
Jul 2015 · 499
Shannon Jul 2015
i took it back, today.
in that ***** office with the years of waste covering all the surfaces.
i slapped out of a box that held dulled wit and
and i stood so tall
that all my inches did their sun salute
and i took my space.
i took my broken, back
from the faded formica
wearing down from days and hours and shifts
and bodies
and when it said, 'i always wished i was marble'
i understood.
i always wished i had  marble too.
so i took the battered files
containing nowhere words
about the sick and dying
and i throw them
at the yellowed ceiling tiles
so they could shower down a jumble
of breaking through the wound barrier
and my heart beats until i moved around
like the quickening of this rebirth
and i leave
with my dignity
crumpled up with a tissue in my pocket.
And i leave with a humming in my ear
and all that i came with,
ill have it back now.
tied to a string, i attached to my belt loop
thrown in  bag that i hold by heart-
i take it back.
god-**** this succubus
but i will take this tattered woman back-
i will take this twisted spine
i will take this faded sense of righteousness
beautiful woman,

sahn  7/29/15
Jun 2015 · 863
hummingbird heart
Shannon Jun 2015
gonna paint my face in fighter's colors.
Gonna put on my tightest clothes
so all the more,  I can keep things close to the chest.
Gonna tie up my laces-
all the way up.
Up around my thigh,
up around my belly
and high around my heart.
You thought my heart beat like a scared bird?
It beats out a tribal rhythm to remind me
just who in the Hell I think I am!
It beats with my hummingbird heart-
and fast to leave
ferocity comes in flashes
and I'll kick away your insecurity you leave me at my feet
and  the shovel for your digs.
I'll plant deep  your innuendos
like some back bone growing ****.
I won't bother ducking bullets-
my metal cage of resilience
and keep it locked and ready to spring..
Your failure to thrive leaves me bored.
Motivated?  Oh, yes I am
- the upper hand that  holds the sun
will never die from burning.
Bring me your withering plant of a soul,
I'll still water it
because it's she who holds the hose, that holds the power.
please feel free to contact me with opinions
May 2015 · 487
In the Stone, In the Salt
Shannon May 2015
I am not willing to
I am not wanting to-
I am not reckless anymore.
For you, I put my foot to earth
and make the indent deep in stone.
I am not able
to wake one second more
as myself without yourself
shadow me and watch
for I will touch the tree-
and there I will leave most of me.
I cannot breathe a single breath
and not hold on deep inside
that cloud of smoke
that I breathe in,
you are the air, the air.
I am water,
madly carving our initials
into the very earth-
for you to keep.
In the salt, in the sea-
I am full of sense
aware I am, of you.
I do not care for wars
I cannot carry causes.
My hands are full of us and we
my arms are heavy-
loaded down,
with all the minutes I have lived
without you.
I found them
and will rage and storm
with all the loneliness I didn't know I had
until you.
I'll lay in wheat fields yellow thick
and melt into the spiny swords and look
to see the sky has puffed it's cheeks with
playful, jeering joy
for you.
Beautiful you.
And I will touch my hand to all I see
The Stone, the sand
and every yawn from every child.
I will touch the fireplace
and dance for you a wistful
sinewy waltz.
I will hide in all the rain
and ride on gust of wind to blow your hat.
In earth and stone
you'll find me.
I'll keep you safe with silver coins
and all the places I can hide.
And all this I give  to you
because I whisper sorrow deep-
I can only be in one way now-
I  can only be for you.

Sahn 5/14/15
sometimes you write the word and hope the world will read, other times you just write the world.
May 2015 · 563
We Find Good
Shannon May 2015
And every day I look for the magic,
and every day he'd look for good.
Same, I said through a whirlpool of tongue
"Same" and it circled and crashed and pushed out the lie.
One will find sinners
the other  find fools.
and either way both of us
find why we came.
Kiss me then, hot
in the corner with your hands
above my shoulder on the wall.
Kiss me and keep me from looking
keep me from finding sad and hopeless.
I said, bind me then.
So that I may not reach out
and I'll find just the good.
And he came at me with magic tricks
and belly dances.
He came with divinity and bound my feet tiny.
Take smaller steps to reach heaven now,
And I fell to my knees kissing a dirt road
lined with stained glass fragments.
I crawled until the blood from my legs
matched nothing at all on earth
for I have taken all the
red from the sea, taken all the
red from the burn.
Taken all the red from child's crayon.
Taken all the red from the sun.
And he takes me and makes magic to me under this nothingness sky
and we find good,
in the chaos we find good.

sahn 3/12/2015
Thank you for sharing in my work, that's kinda awesome of you !
May 2015 · 496
When I Am Stone
Shannon May 2015
I will love you with a fierceness,
coal burning stove hotness.
I will fire with the pistons
of the seven deadly sins.
I will love with  great sorrow
for all the widowed and the ghosts
of what is yet and
what has wandered
woeful, wistful warm and wry.
I will love you with a wetness
thick like oceans foam
and I will hide it-
All my anger
at the bottom of a wave.
So you can dance on the shore of it,
so you can wade in the salt of it
so you can watch it recede-
So you will know it must leave you.
I will love you like a clover.
In a thousand clovers hovered
in a field of the wheat and grasses,
long and itching.
tall and reaching
trap your ankles as you walk.
And in that glory green
I will be in the shadow patient
with your wishes, clover me.
I will love you like dark loves you.
With no motive, with no hue.
with your fears and self-flagellations.
with your faults and accusations-
I will love you as dark finds you,
in the shadows, in the grief.
I will love you.
And when I love you
you will know no other self.
When I am stone,
when I am marble
I will love you ever so.
When I am stone
and I don't grieve so-
I will love you evermore.

Thank you. I write because I have to you read because you want to- and for that I am grateful.
May 2015 · 626
63 Moons
Shannon May 2015
Under a blanket of 
blackest wool
tiny darting stab wounds bleed 
yellow splinters through a night sky that borrowed it's blue from the bottom of the sea.
-In the up there.
       -In the out there.
And on our wooden chairs painted crisp bay white
chipped over the years,
so the layers of paint becomes a calendar -
we sit to watch
63 moons glide gracefully,
circle daintily-
We strain our necks and whisper tightly
say the things
that move from tongues to fingertips.
Wild gestures meant to
land sooner than the bitter words.
Under the nebulae where you once
gave me a ring
which you slung round a planet
with a ladder and rope.
And you gave me a promise that's still hung round the sun
so I jump up ride it when it orbits me close.
and I'll hide in its caves when the fear-dollies chase me-
and I'll dip in the tides of bubbling foam.
In a moment of tiny,
                              of small
                                            and of sooner....
                             in a moment that's billions of miles away
so before we've been born
and before we've been lovers-
a star somewhere tucked our whole story away.
I'll find us a night cloud
thick with our longings
I'll puff up it's feathers and send it to sea.
I'll send out a hope seed
to sell to the watchmen,
only to free it when they've gone to sleep.
Yes, I'll pack it up safely and keep it's core glowing
(for hope is a thing that you never keep kept.  )
As we sit in our garden,
and we touch close our fingers
As our babies are children and those children now men.
The night scented orchid blooms urgent around us,
like small fragrant fairies that scattered below.
The 64th moon has given you passage,
she's waiting impatient, I fear you must go.
Don't look for me, darling, for I will be waiting
on the bench in the garden
where the night flowers bloom.

Sahn 5/2/15  
Thanks as always.
This was written over a period of years, and edits. It evolved into a story of a marriage where one spouse dies, the 64 "moons" being years of marriage.
Apr 2015 · 387
The Morning Man
Shannon Apr 2015
i watch his magic trick
in the morning by the sink
with the crunch of the blade
he goes from monster to man...
with the sleek silver rake
he goes from mine only
to the all the worlds.
and i am jealous of the world
my eyes watch him
as he clears the charming stubble
and tames the wild curls.
and i peek at his belly,
soft and pale
with sprouts of hair
like a man jungle.
and i watch him
with the cottoniest of cottons
ironed and pressed
shirt like a gift wrapped tight-
edges and clean lines.
i close my eyes and inhale
because next i will smell his smell.
and keep them closed
for him to lean over
and kiss me goodbye.
i don't want to hear the door close
but it does.
and i watch the hands as they
and i watch that **** door that let
him go
become the door that brings him back home.

Thank you as always for being such a wonderfully supportive group of amazingly talented artists that take the time to share in my work.
Apr 2015 · 582
Finding Why
Shannon Apr 2015
You want to kiss her.
Lip color makes a sunrise blush-
You have to know
If she'll be soft inside.
You want to taste her,
To figure out,
if she'll dart or will she wallow.
You want to kiss her
but you can't say why.
You want to touch her.
Watch her skin across the room.
You know the hollows-
want to trace them with your thumb.
You'd be so gentle, you'd move yourself
with your deft hand,
you want to touch her-
but you can't see why.
You want to smell her.
Scrub that cheap scent from off her clothes.
Get close and know her
with every sensory she brings.
You want to smell her-
like on the pillow when she leaves.
You need to smell her
but you won't know why.
She makes you achy.
You know the tiny things about her.
You gather pieces,
watching out from under lashes.
You'd wait for timing.
You'd wait for fate to give you courage.
She makes you achy
And you don't fathom why.
She makes you need her and
you can not find

thank you for sharing in my work.
Apr 2015 · 2.0k
She, Astronaut
Shannon Apr 2015
It all spins
gravitational pull
and I-
astronaut distance
orbit it sadly.
My only regret-
out in the black nothing
is not feeling my back
against brick
one more time.
Push me against
the cold and cutting
and kiss me with your
hands by my head.
Ever so cleverly
holding the wall-
holding the world.
Holding out on me.
As I tumble,
astronaut girl
and look at the blue beneath my toes
my only regret is
not learning how fly that kite.
Learning how to ride currents
with colorful
So very stuck, was I,
on all of the moons
That I never took
to dragons with tails
or red and black scales
and days taken hostage
and grass that can lasso
and pull me in earthbound.
Now I am anchored to nothing and watch
as the blessed and foolish dance at weddings
and funerals
and I watch from above.
Astronaut, I am
my only regret is that
all of this time
I've spent farming the stars
I never did learn
to correctly love you.

Sahn 4.13.15
thank you for sharing in my work. i explore isolation and loneliness in this piece
Apr 2015 · 512
The Many Lifetimes
Shannon Apr 2015
You will learn my rhythm
and lean in when I talk-
The smell of me like petrichor perfume
will linger on your shirt.
Feel of my lips like
satin ties
of the ballerinas shoes
will wind
around your mind
and tie across the gooseflesh
on your arms.
You will know I have come
before my hand
lifts to knock,
and your heart will quicken-
echo percussion against the chambers.
You will remember
the last wet place
we walked with one umbrella.
And when it rains
you will fill buckets with longing
to fit our slick bodies
underneath its black shelter
You will knot your tie
and straighten your collar
and your body will stiffen
because it remembers.
You will have a track mark
like the silver needle bullet
chasing through your veins-
that recalls us.
Like tongue recalls salt,
like  wound
recalls harm-
like child recalls
before being born-
like the prayer remembers
before being sung.
like the rock will recall that the ocean was there
and the cell will recall being painlessly split
and you will remember
with such vivid lust
and you will love in a timeless loop.
And I will love you over and under.
We will love till we're small again,
Love as time resets again
And then do it all once more,

Sahn 4.10.15
I think of this as the story of lovers being reincarnated again and again and getting to fall in love all over each life. Thank you for sharing in my work.
Apr 2015 · 602
I Never Thought You'd Ask
Shannon Apr 2015
What day was it, exactly
when you asked?
I'd never thought
not that far out:
I want to sit by the mountainside.
Hear the brook every morning-
gather up river stones
build up a path.
Drive an old chevy truck.
With radio made for blasting.
I want a moonroof and plenty
of stars in the sky.
I want to see faraway places.
Hear funny voices say funnier words.
I want to visit-then
I want to come home.

To you.

I want to cook like they do in NY
And garden
and pick pretty flowers.
To grow older
and watch
as my babies grow old.
I want to visit  pyramids.
Buy trinkets at Parisian stores.
I want to see Venice-
make my way  
thru watery streets.
But then
I want to come home.

To you.

To that mountain.
by that creekside.
Feed the squirrels and watch red robins.
Write under a tree.
I might want to go west-
Drive down highways fast
stay up in Vegas,
Wear sparkly dresses.
Drink pricey champagne
close to the bay. Any bay
will do.
I want to find light in the India bustle
and color in Ireland's green
and then,
I want to come home.
I want four corners and
I'd love seven wonders,
But still-
I'd want to come home.

To you.

thank you.
Shannon Apr 2015
I'm difficult and broken
-and not at all difficult and broken in that oh-im-so-difficult-and-broken-beautiful way that some women can be.
I'm just difficult and broken in all the ugly ways it manifests.

sahn 4/10/15
Thank you
Apr 2015 · 1.2k
Just One Sentence
Shannon Apr 2015
I can lose you in the crowd-
I can lose you in a train of thought.
I can lose you to the errant sock
the wallet left on a table,
that last marble down the vent.
I can send you down the wrong path
send you packing-
send for your belongings.
Send you away.
I can deliver you safely.
Deliver you to the doorstep
Sign off on your delivery.
I can get carried away by you.
Carry your grudge.
Carry the weight of the relationship.
I can blow off to the westerly wind
Blow up, Low blow.
Blown away.
I can mark the days
The mark of the beast
market day and slip away.
But I can't remember how to not love you.
Can't remember how to stop hope.
How to turn off faith.
I can't remember how not to look for you
in the crowd-
how to not listen for your laugh or your key in the lock.
I could lose you-
but I could not ever resist you.
and that's really the thing about it, isn't it?
Only one of these sentences matters.
Just one.
sweet, simple.
Apr 2015 · 380
Red Sheets on Lazy Sunday
Shannon Apr 2015
He lies next to me in the big red bed,
hair in patches
and smooth in circles.
An elbow propped that holds up his head
as he gazes and traces
the letters of the alphabet on my
places of the universe.
And he sighs deeply
as he throws down his head
as if to say,
Giving up. I'm giving up on this
and I think,
On us? Or just giving in-
but I don't say
because the conversation is the
most beautiful I ever heard.
-And the man wiggles and flops
like a child
with energy coursing out of his fingertips.
He loves me.
Such a simple act.
Love is such a simple act.
Hate he says, takes 'energy he don't have'-
and like is just warmed up soup.
'Love is easy, mother girl
love is easy... be easy back.'
In the big red bed, I trace the veins in his arms
to see where they'll lead me.
They never led me where I expected them to go.
it's Sunday, in this big old bed.
'The sun's up, gonna go to church
and pray for sins of the moon.
We'll just stay in these hot red sheets and pray right there.
might make more-'
And he says with a snakes slow rhythm,
'It's Sunday,
everybody knows Sundays were made for redeeming.'
and there is quiet throughout the house.
and the world left us for just these few.
See that beautiful color?
Umm hmm.
We are up to the good things,
the touching things- the things we need to be forgiving for.
We are up to things that shut off the world
And we swim in these sheets
and we become red.

sahn 3/29/15
thank you for sharing in my work.
Mar 2015 · 296
Shannon Mar 2015
While I waited to be happy so much joy escaped.
the eternal truth of life.
Mar 2015 · 1.0k
The Insatiable Raven
Shannon Mar 2015
Destroy me.
Take what you can from the middle.
Take that golden yellow moon-
that sherbert sunset in the center of how I exist,
**** it, take it!
And Stubbornly I'll be.
When all that is left is bones for the jackal to
satiate on
when all that is heard is bubbles popping
and the jaw creaking
the overuse of what was inside me-
When that dark and silken predator
lies lazy on it's back
with my contents fuming in its distention...
destroy me, do.
***** my remains
with huge heaving gusts of your gluttony.
Because you will.
Because I am too heavy to carry, I am too light to settle.
Oh, yes I'll be your posion,
and into every cell I will invade
marching with my army, marching with my anger
I will wiggle in your ear and chew through the pictures in your mind,
eating at the corners of everyone you covet most.
I'll call you in a singsong voice that does not end.
In every room you'll look to hear-
in every corner your try to hide from it.
I will flood your soul with my wrongdoings so you
carry mine as well as yours.
Yes, destroy me-
And you will perish from my digestion
and you will carry my heavy sins.
Oh, what is left? What is left?
Just the eternal weight of light
and you cannot eat that,
On light you can feast
but not thrive.
It will not still the noise
of the rotting wood
that sits solid and solitary
in the place
where someone stole
your exclusive rights
to feel

Sahn 3/26/2015
I suppose it's very healthy to explore all of what makes us humans. In any case, thank you for taking time to share in my work.
Mar 2015 · 729
Shannon Mar 2015
I am angry in the way that
bubbles in champagne
rocket towards air.
I am pretty-
in that beige and golden way.
That heat paints my face,
Scolds my cheeks-
like an iron to the crispest collar
of a well-dressed man.
And I am virile in the hot.
Lovely reds and pinks and
eyes that catch-
LaCross nets that
will not meet your gaze
lest you see the squall
I work so hard to hide.
I am breathless with my rage,
and oh, so beautiful! Finally.
In my pain,
I am dry and fragile
brittle leaves crunching underfoot,
the salt left careless by the sea.
Nothing grows in me-
nothing grows in me.
I am dead sea
and beauty floats boastful where
love cannot swim.
For I carry this grief
in the way a river stone
bears the weight of the rushing water.
The lovely
and the ruthless.
The heinous
and the clean....
the very worst of me
is the prettiest to see...
Naked before the judges table
I have no shame.
"Such a pity", they'll say.
"Such a beautiful girl,
all that anger in such a beautiful girl."

anger is hard to explore in oneself. it's hard to objective. i believe pure anger can create it's own light which has a certain loveliness. thank you for sharing my work.
Mar 2015 · 808
All of the Times
Shannon Mar 2015
I wait for the crashing fight.
for the tire screech,
the door slam-
for the lava words
that roll magnificent red from my tongue
and slowly drip ashen black onto the wooden floor between us.
I wait for the broken flute,
tiny bubbles, tiny dreams-
all absorbed by Berber Carpet
and mailbox stuffed
with molehills of mountains.
I wait for the heaving pressures
that blow things upwards,
that blow things inwards.
That makes canyons
and mushrooms
I wait for the fury that turns my eyes
cast with doubt, cast with coal dust.
my lungs puffed with indignation-
so little room to breathe
that I am high from venom.
I wait for the disgust to
wrap around me like a Sunday School wrap-skirt
colorful and gay,
and dropped to the floor without
I wait for the hate to be early.
with hope already so foolishly spent on each other,
with faith so carelessly blown away
riding in invisible
paper airplanes-
such are the kisses sent across busy roads.
Waste, waste all these desires of the mundane
when lust drives
outside forces divide,
heat and sinner unite us
and I wait,
I do.

I wait for it to pass.
So as to get to the stuff a day beyond the splintered wood
past the love,
past the lush.
past the lace on my forehead.
I wait for it all to past so as to get myself wholly to you.
For it is not the very last of days
I wait to spend with you,
It is the very all of days I wait to spend with you.

Sahn 3/16/15
you shared your time with me, and i am as always, ever grateful.
Shannon Mar 2015
I'll have you know the movies love me,
they love my lovely face in silhouette
and they say, 'oh you are the reason we do what we do.'
I think you should know the sidewalk loves me,
they heave my great weight effortlessly
and say, 'oh, it's such an honor to hold your burdens up.'
You should probably be aware
that waters love me.
they ****** me in the most intimate places
and say, 'oh how can I not tickle you so?'
and luck, she burrows in the meager coins in my pocket
while she seduces a golden deity
to give me baby prosperities.
Blessings, those scamps, they just adore me!
Ringing and ringing their bright silver bells
so that only I can hear them...
throwing  butterflies down with the rain so the drops
Time, he seduces me.
He takes me into the strongest hold and tells me stories!
Oh, the stories Time will weave just so I don't leave his lap and-
I'll warn you, the stars are mesmerized by tracing the shadows in my face.
They love to play hide in seek,
they hide in my eyes for days and I can't find them.
And Laugh!
Laugh thinks I am her playmate
and she shares whispers with no other.
With no other that is not
I am loved the universe wide,
I am loved
Far reaches of the sky,
I am loved.
Beneath the sticking blades of grass-
yes, loved there as well.
I am loved,
Now hold my hand and
Love me too.

always, ever, gratefully, so.
Mar 2015 · 486
Speak, Less
Shannon Mar 2015
No more to write another word
of my merry making
Or place you in the crescent moon
and tell the maids you're taken.
Take the ink from in my mind
and stopped my fingers writhing?
I'll think the biggest thoughts of God
then place you in the tithing.
If all the paper turned to beads
and all the threads unraveled-
I'd weave a poet's deepest fear-
in the darkest places traveled.
We are not the whispered tale.
Ours did not skip fleeting
It leaked its way
through pulse and vein-
to drum the story beating.
I have you in the scar on knees-
that leaves a child sorrow.
You have me in the set alarm
that gives one more tomorrow....
If I stopped a thief from stealing
if I stop a ship from sail,
If I stop a bride from blushing
take a train from off the rail:
If you take my words and wrap
them in the perfect silken bow
this lovers tongue, you will still hear-
this soul, you will still know.

I could not be any more delighted to make your acquaintance, dearest ones.
Mar 2015 · 589
don't, won't & willing
Shannon Mar 2015
I don't see you from the side of my body.
Yet these **** toes like small children tugging on my hem,
"Come on, come on!"
They want to run to you
(and I do, too)
but I will not budge.
as I am quite intently giving you no mind.
Contented to just watch you from the blindspot as
I keep you carefully wondering
why if there is so much beauty in the world to admire...
Then why-
you would-
your whole body could
and against your own will
not see me too.

sahn 3/5/2015
thank you so much for sharing my work. a little playful, feisty piece. i am ever grateful to have readers that are so very fabulous.
Mar 2015 · 1.2k
Man Against the Wall
Shannon Mar 2015
I saw you over there, lustful man.
I braided **** ribbons in my hair
so they could make you think
of wrists
and feet
and places of interest.
Ribbons of heat
curling from
the effort of
not watching me.
The devil leaves a sinful man
who fights within himself-
The devil leaves the sinful man to battle
The devil knows what you do not-
you'll never leave as victor.
I pass my glaze of a glance of sigh of a slight turn-
you de-watched me too.
That is to say
you watched me so tightly
you had to un-think me with purpose.
You had to descend on those
deviant rungs
step ginger down,
rung by rung by rung
and you stopped half way
between me up here
and me down there.
and oh! what a glorious place you stopped.
The holy place of me- where I am still a Mary
and a Magdelene?
I've yet to be.

Thank you for taking the time to read and share my work.  I am always grateful.
Feb 2015 · 1.1k
Shannon Feb 2015
I stretch, and stretch
up towards a place where my head is far
further above so
that I cannot hear the jet engine of your words.
I hear my bones creak
with the effort to get
away from the pollution
of your coal train ramming me.
I hear only my body
cracking like spring ice
as I rise, rise -
rise above your noise toxins
that settle like limp and sodden cardboard crowns
worn about your tortured head.
High above your hollow community
above your entitlement park,  
above your tiny-
tinny voice.
I hear it. Your hateful sounds like poultry jibber
so far down in
I laugh to hear your wordless squawl!
I stretch but  now to bend
and see you
beneath my squishy toes.
Bend at the waist
to see who's nipping at my ankles
and I cry a tear of mirth.
A white rapid that
whisks your bitter apple groove
far away.
I stretch you gone.
I stretch you indifferent.
I grow myself pardoned, I grow my self free.

thank you for exploring this topic with me. I love comments, suggestions or messages of any type.
Feb 2015 · 640
Shannon Feb 2015
Stringing my words together like
garland on the aluminum tree
whose lights flicker on and off haphazardly
bouncing from silver tin leaf
to silver tin leaf.
I stammer and push them
out with my tongue.
until I become my mama's face
from the effort.
Those words, they push to come out
a labor-
out into the world, newborn babes.
As i sputter and kick them
(no graceful exit
from me).
Yet the lush ones wont leave me,
my throat swallows them whole
with the smooth roundest effortless bite
that they are not.
And my tongue recoils, curls between letters-
hides in the punctuation
rears from the bitter.
So I stumble and
and quite a fool myself, make.
Gulp until I am knotted  inside
and I leave this foolish talk alone
at the bottom of the sea of bile.
I leave this talk to stronger folk,
or younger folk
or kinder souls than me.
I shut my face door.
Shut it, slam it
and leave this talk to better dreamers than me.

thank you for sharing in my work
Feb 2015 · 1.3k
revival tent
Shannon Feb 2015
Rotted soul of good intention,
mine is an apple core
on an old black road
in a holy heat.
Sinner, slow down!
Sinner stop your dancing
and start praying
for your people
that they start praying
for you
'Cause it's gonna take a churchyard full
of bake sales,
and it's gonna take a winter full of galoshes by the church door
it's gonna take a village to save you, child.
Heathen, pull your skirt down!
stop them hips swaying left, slooow,
swaying right, sloooow
as you walk down that dirt road kicking up dust
like you was a young colt running.
Oh it's gonna take a lot saving,
Yessum, it's gonna take a lake a dunking...
Oh but Lord! It's gonna take a lot of praying,
Hallelujah, gonna need a lot of rosaries
to save your eternal life, girl
I am as rotten as a pit of peach,
dried and without yield. no value, no good.
Child, it's gonna take a revival to save this soul.
Mama, start that revival and save your babies soul.


this piece started out slow, but has gained momentum and as always, it's a piece i love so thanks and as i once again find myself: i am always honored and grateful when people support my work by indicating if they liked it and comment with any suggestions or to say hi.
Jan 2015 · 1.0k
Tiny Pulses
Shannon Jan 2015
In that,
the tiny pushpins
that invade my clumsy pulse.
In that
I find you
in that-
the electric scarf
I wear around my neck
Insomuch I find
you choke me
so I am not wordless,
I am not without screaming-
dripping and falling from my lips
wrapped like gifts of mortar
more out than in
no I am not wordless.
I see you and tiny electric pulses
dance on me
dice through me
I feel you
touch so perfect
like a violin string
strung taught
tight against my mouth
tight against you leaving.
I am sensory.
I am sound that bounces angry
I am sound that chisels
the prayers of the prayer wheels
upon the bumps of my spine.
listen, listen
for your footfalls
and you will touch me,
perfect touch
of space and air
and fingertips that have no bones
no skin
just a note on a
cello-of a touch
and a kiss from behind my neck
a strangle,
such the kiss is tight.
tiny electric pulses through me,
oh, love,
for the tiny electric pulses
that bounce through,
move me.
prayers on the prayer wheel
sahn 01/22/15
thank you for taking the time to share in my work, any suggestions or discussions is always welcome.
Shannon Jan 2015
i lay down my
at the altar.
i pour out my
pride like water
from the Krishna-
sodden ribbon of faith
runs around and over and
through your hands
and i lay down my
face on your lap
and i lay down my face
on your map of the world
and the oceans whisper under my ear
and the future
is a boxer inside of your chest
throwing fist-
bom, bom
after fist-
bom bom
at the shadows on the wall.
and i lay my faces down
all five of them-
six of them.
and i lay them down to
be eaten by the dogs.
while they chew merry on my
presentations, my false introductions.
i look to the night sky of your face
and it looks like it may rain.
sorrow rain. snowflake fractals falling on my
great rivers of regret and sorrow
and restraint.
i look up
Rigel Kentaurus
is shining from somewhere deep inside.
and i find you, and i find my way
around the black hole
inside you and i move swift around the comet that is me.
fire, fire, pieces of planets and fire
fiercely forcing it's way through the universes until
i finally hit
a force stronger than i.
i shed my clothes.
as naked is the eyes that see me, true.
i shed my pride.
as forgiving is the soul that nurtures.
i wear your adoration like cherry blossoms blooming
i wear your eyes, i take them from you
to see me,
to see me
and i do not disappoint. i am naked and beautiful and modest
just as you said i would be.
beautiful vessel
the Gods choose well,
so i lay my silks and finery at your feet.
blossoms in the sacrificial bowl.
let me lay, just a little longer,
on your lap that is the world
let me lay here
while your hand of the softest gossimer fingertips
rides the bumps in my spine.
let me find myself in your lush silence
and in this divine be forgiven-
oh! That I find myself forgiven.

thank you always for sharing my work. im always ready for any helpful suggestions.
Jan 2015 · 1.1k
Morning Glory Road
Shannon Jan 2015
I want each step to land my foot
tangled heather
ash and soot.
And lead to where the wicked go...
where the darling schoolgirls know
when to turn with redden hue
gasping their  intact virtue.
Yet I long my footfall down-
mossy sinfully buoyant ground.
Run to meet him by the stone
kiss him on it's granite bones.
And he'll swing me wide with wonder
pirate, he'll be, ravage. plunder.
I go where all the good girls shant.
all my christian vows recant.
Yes I will meet him by the river

and onward I keep
through the creeping myrtle, creep-
and the sinners sandbox
and painted ladies swings
(where I rest my chastity case)
that's covered in leather and ******* with lace.
as I watch good girls gasp-
as I swing wide hips, wide.
Thier ****** ******* clasps.
And that night will give birth
to a wretched new way
I am wanton
and crafty
unwelcome at tables-where ladies
and insist on "no more!"
need polite conversations
to endless relations.
I'll roar down that path
like a thundering herd,
like an air stream that carries the weariest bird.
I'm curved, I'm pillowed.
I'm chest out.
I'm willowed...
I'll have holes in my souls
all four of them dotted.
Or six of them spotted?
Like a cat's lives they'll feed
so that reaper, recedes.
It's this path, though, you see them?
The Glories
Twined up the tree trunk
and my heart is arrested.
I'm put in the mind of those
sinewy women
and sin
comes in scent
where that glory blooms nightly
and clasp hold of
these moments
of recklessness tightly.

Sahn 1/12/2015
this one is still forming but thanks for sharing my work. check out my blog if you like my work.
Jan 2015 · 1.0k
Temper, Lover of Mine
Shannon Jan 2015
now, now, there. He is
man of raging waters-
ease flees  his body
Like birds spooked by passing train.
Time and truths drag down his shoulders as
He walks his well-worn path to
Earn his well-worn dollar.
His arms limp to pick the tempest bottle
That fill his flaccid faith with the warmth of a hundred singing choirs.
Temper, now - hallelujah, hallelujah
He fills his cup - king of kings-
and pours it down the funnel of his spine,
And like the clown that blows up balloon animals
He blows up a lion
blows up a fighting ****-
He blows himself up into hope-into happy.
Temper man, mine,
I am branches of his trees
Snapping in the sudden gale
The storm that brews beneath his feet.
I am what he preserves -
what he destroys
Makes me like one of his castles
drip -drop
rise in the sand
I rise, towers blossom fragile
Queen of Drip-drop Land
- temper man watches it all wash away
I am sullen and silent and stirring
His madness alive
as he tangos with electrified demons on the beach where I puddle.
Oh how tiring it all is,
And he'll wake to drag his medal with him
As he walks the dusty road to clutch his dusty dollar
So he may do it all again.

Shan 01/05/15
Thank you for sharing any thoughts or suggestions.
Jan 2015 · 479
Shannon Jan 2015
Over a steaming cup of soup
over a frosty mug of ale.
Over and over
I've seen those eyes
peer and
and absorb and dart
and deceive.
Over the black and white tattler.
over the child's cartoons.
I've seen those eyes twinkle
and the sides of them
crinkle and the lines
that have grown little by little
like a map of small creeks.
Over a mountain of colorful bills,
over the worn Ulysses
to read
for years.
I've seen your eyes wander and water,
close gently like leaves falling -
zigzag to the ground.
Bang shut fierce, like an old Italian closing the shutters.
Over certificates
and instructions
and declarations.
Over pots of soup
or stews or rice.
I've seen those eyes.
More my eyes than they are yours
as I have loved them a million times
and I have searched for them through seas of faces-
and always light a lighthouse, find them
and through those eyes
a young woman glows.
Not the tired and weary woman I am.
Behind a latte's steam
he sits
and startled he looks up at me.
"You're deep in thought",
he says.

Sahn 12/29/14
thank you for sharing in my work.  i am always honored and accept all suggestions gratefully.
Dec 2014 · 455
and still he waits
Shannon Dec 2014
she is gone
like the waves are to the sand
she was there and
then she's not.
she is gone.
like a hand is to the shake
like the Eve is to the snake
like the sun is to the morn
she is gone.
She has gone.
like the path is to the lost.
like the trees are to the roots.
like the skin is to the snake
she is gone.
she is gone.
like the kiss is to the cheek.
like the strength is to the weak.
she is gone.
and still, and still he waits
like the river rock he shakes
but no movement will he make
she is gone.
he will bide his time like lakes
she will roll like tides
and take
what is hers and what he left
she is gone.
and still he waits
and still he waits.
and time will edge and clip
and she will
dodge and she will duck
she will shine and she will grab
still he waits.
still he waits.

thank you as always, could not be more thrilled you share in my work.
Shannon Dec 2014
it's so perfect.
so divine.
inside she finds
that safe place and
a marble is blue
like a gesture
is small
like yeast must rise-
like the cat's eye,
paw at you.
as the cat waits
with the sunbeam she plays.
the tea
and the teacup-
exquisitely she waits.
she waits.
empty she will.
instinctively she waits.
on her own bone china
pretty little fragile
on her own
she waits,
exquisitely she waits.

i am always grateful, say hello.
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