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Rachel Moore Oct 6
I am coming into my own
not in a flood
not in a storm
but in a drizzle

as a faint shower
on the cusp of autumn
nothing tempestuous
nothing tumultuous
a mist

I am coming out of my shell
not in a burst
not in a flash
but in a whisper

as a warm glow
in the cool of evening
nothing bright
nothing blazing
a flicker

I am learning how to be lost
not in a panic
not in a terror
but in a wandering

as a courageous vagabond
in her youthful travels
nothing known
nothing certain
just as
she is
There is the ancient story of a shepherd boy
whose king outfitted him with armor
to ready him for the challenges of the day
and the boy could not walk
so he threw off the armor
picked up his sling
and tended his father’s flock
with peace and joy freely erupting in song.

My armor is not wealth or wit
I cannot make myself fit
into the current conventions and hype
trying to conform to the normal type
stops up the energies that yearn to flow
freely and gleefully and urge me to go
to the dawn, darkness, clouds and sun
to wrap myself in words that run
like sparkling streams
and windswept dreams.

Poetry is my armor for each day
where worries and problem allay
where I search my feelings and mind
for the word elixir loosening knots that bind.
This armor does not weigh me down
but frees me to my triggering town
where I find and create the poet me
and the landscape of my soul’s poetry.
My favorite book about writing poetry is one by Richard Hugo, Triggering Town where he says, “Your triggering subjects are those that ignite your need for words. When you are honest to your feel¬ings, that triggering town chooses you. Your words used your way will generate your meanings. Your obsessions lead you to your vocabulary. Your way of writing locates, even creates, your inner life. The relation of you to your language gains power. The relation of you to the triggering subject weakens.”
Owen Cafe Sep 29
When I was young, I could fly.
From thought to wish to dream to the sky.
When I was becoming, I could think.
I thought I'd thought that they were thinking,
that I was simply thoughtless.
When I was discovering, I could feel.
I could feel the feelings of earth of mind of soul,
those feelings connected though fingertips and goosebumps.
When I fell, I couldn't see.
I could not see that they could see that I was blind,
the view is up when you are down.
When I was climbing, I grew strong.
Could see the bumps in the road, the connections,
the grips, the traps, the full scale of the map.

Then I saw it. Not far now.
Just another corner, my branches are full of colour and life.
I can see the flowers ready to bloom.

Spring is coming, and I am too.
Reflective appreciation of realizing the future.
Rachel Sep 8
Imagine a canyon
Let’s say the Grand Canyon
Awe-inspiring and radiant
Valleys, peaks, and wide open spaces
A baby bird’s chirp echoes for miles.

Down below a cliff’s edge rests a small tree
On one branch lies a nest
Baby bird waits patiently
Nestled amongst woven twigs
Remnants of blue shells near
Baby homes to sister birds who have flown away.

Baby bird who remains has lost her mother
Nourishment and comfort ceases
Empty chirps reverberate through dead air
Bouncing off surrounding hard, hollow rock
The valley of despair.

A sense of abandonment is my tired shadow
Foreboding fear and gloom
Some days are filled with silliness and laughter, but most are not.
I’m an alcoholic, addict, thief, and liar.

Shame with guilt omnipresent
I am guilty, but sometimes good
A good person with guilt
Shame is the icing on the cake of guilt in my life.

There is a voice inside me
Different from the voice I express
Inner-self hibernating under outward presence of vivacious charisma.

Raw with envy for everyone around me
Friends, their families, people I pass on the street
They all seem to have it all.
I understand now it isn’t them
It’s me.

It’s not that I wanted to be someone else my whole life
I just never wanted to be me
Crawling in skin not meant to be worn by the woman who lives within.

Today I sit in this idyllic, enchanting courtyard
Whispering wind chime
Wandering waterfall
A plethora of yellow flowers popping pleasantly
My skin soaks in the sun, ray by ray.
Today I think I’m wearing my skin well
Even that sounds awkward
Something dumb I’d probably regret saying with a rush of self-consciousness
Almost three weeks in recovery and I still have no clue who I am.

I do, however, know exactly who I am not.

I’m taking the past and putting it in a box
Tied tight with a little blue bow
The box will be put to the side
Not thrown out, but kept nearby.

I have lived the life I’ve lived thus far
But this need not define me
I’m done rewinding the tape of my life
Wondering where I went wrong.

All I know is that here
In this courtyard
Inside the walls of treatment
May just be where I got it right.
Andra Sep 11
he was always a mystery to me.
no matter how much i thought i could observe him from afar.

i know
his style
his gestures
the way he lights up a cigarette
how he argues
how he jokes around
i know the dimple in the corner of his mouth that appears when
he smiles.

i never had the courage to even hope of being next to him.
it's strange to work with someone you admire in a way
you don't even understand.
cause it was not a "fell in love" type of feeling, but more like a weird chemical reaction that was happening
within me.

and last night
i thought i was discovering him.
that i will get to discover him.
but he only left me with more mystery.
with every thing he showed me
everything he revealed to me:
the affection
the caress
the kisses
even that birthmark,
the more mysterious he would get.

today i discovered
how much he wants to be a father
how much he wants someone
how sensitive he is.

and i know i should not be sad thinking now, alone, about what happened
but i should be happy that the moment existed.
that for a few instants,
in the intimacy that we built together
he was mine only,
he gave himself to me entirely
and let a few masks fall.

"Coffee, yes?"

and now i ask you, stay!

but i'll pour another glass of waiting. this bar is never closing.
Zane Smith Sep 10
I put all my eggs in one basket
and hurt myself over and over,
I push people away and don't know why
I get frustrated and usually cry.
I tend to hold my breathe
not being able to put my mind to rest,
what's the reasoning behind
my feelings of mistrust and worry?
why do I get so attached
not know how to hold on?
for me I know when it's solid
I can feel it eventually being a safe space
I can feel it getting old and fading out.
every time someone incredible is uncovered
a way is found for them to leave me.
whether it's my own doing
their life leading them else where.
Bruce Demos Sep 3
One two one two melatonin pieces will do
In my warm cocoon
A bumbling butterfly
Stumbling through the night
In search of warm dreams
Can't find them anywhere
No matter how hard I try to fall fast asleep
aquanerine Aug 31
I wish I could follow
without it leading to dissatisfaction

my excessive traits
leave me feeling left out

and when they're the same
my sum is just not enough

my concerns become toxic
until I can't think any longer

I wish for a balance
while understanding both sides

all in this world of many
whilst I am just one
The Lightning Bolt

A spark,
The first beat of a new formed heart,
The Start -
A new journey begins.

And although the destination is always home,
Exactly where it started,
She understands that what is really important
Is what the journey has imparted.

So, She packs up the old car with just enough,
What She really needs lies just off the road ahead:
In each warm meal she's fed,
Each new path she treads,

Each warm bed,
With pleasant company.
She lets Her mind adjust to thinking free,
Opens it to a thousand new born possibilities,

Conceived somewhere between the highest mountain
To where the land is caressed by sea,
Where She
Is ready to jump in.

She stops, first, at a highland lake,
Sits at the waters edge watching purpling clouds
Gathering in the reflection of the water,
Hugging Her knees tight.

The hair on Her arms begins to stand up,
Her grip on Herself crescendos,
Adrenaline forces Her to feel Her heart,
Just as the storm is about to start.

The electric light,
Blue, Purple and Hot White,
The water bouncing Light,
So bright,
It stole Her breath.

Then it rippled it toward Her in a rumble;
It grew, now roaring,
She tucked Her face into Her knees
And felt Her breath tugging at the trees.

She caught it there, with Her frantic heart,
And forced Her eyes to take a glance,
To behold this violent beauty, this was Her chance,
So, abandoning all Her fear,
She began to dance.

The rain fell hard
And each of Her senses became flooded:

The taste of fresh rain & sweat,
The clothes now clinging to Her skin.
It evaporated all regret
As She listened to the world sing.

She lost Herself at that lonesome lake,
Taken off with the storm and lightning
But the thought only made Her smile,
It wasn't frighting.

Whatever moved Her muscles now
Carried Her to the car, dripping, sodden.
She turned the key in the ignition
And on the radio came something She'd forgotten.

The melody clung to Her like Her clothes,
It drew memories that washed over Her,
Like the rain moments before,
She quickly turned off the ignition
But the key couldn't close that door,
Swung open by the vibrations -

She came back to Herself like a hard-felt revelation.

She smiled then and collapsed on the steering wheel,
In awe of the indulgent moment,
Knowing what it was, in one way,
To be taken apart, all those components,

Scattered in the storm,
Only to be reborn.

As the clouds passed that day,
Summer arrived,
Blooming flowers in the meadows
And along the roadside.

She tried to push on,
But Summer was insistent,
It told Her, take it easy,
It's seductive tone not easily resisted.

And Thus Her journey changed it's course,
Bending, as things do, to even the gentlest force
Like a leaf in a summer's breeze;
She could feel life begin to tickle and tease

And on, And please...
Written for a friend, a beautiful soul and a dreamer..
Atoosa Aug 24
Where my softness meets your hard body
Curve and angle merge to one uneven line of truth
Your arms entwine and protect me -even from myself
Melodies pulse in the open window... echoes of our reawakened youth
Savor the thrill of your heartbeat thrumming against my breast
Passion flows and overwhelms me but I come tumbling as you fall
"I'm yours only" you breathe, your eyes blazing with candle flame
Earnest gifts of respect and loyalty in every whisper of my name
How can a heart be unmoved by such open offerings?
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