Creative Writing, Moi, Poetry, The Fine Line

When the Change Comes

I reach up and out into the darkness, the nothingness and I pull it toward me.

I am laid out on my back and then it’s 9’oclock in the morning.

The nothingness, I grip tight in the palm of my fists,

I kiss it, my fists; I make a wish. A wish I will share with the rest of the world

Because I pull it onto my face and it becomes my glow. 

I will not try to hide it, not try to subdue. 

Nothingness it may be, but it is newfound life to me. 

And although they may say it’s another craze, another episode,

I will take my nothingness, my newfound life, my glow 

And to all of the world I will let it showshowshow.

Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

The Haunting

He haunts my bed each night
When I lie in a state of sleep.
He’s not there really
But I see him though;
His silhouette I see.
His breathing body in the dark
Besides a body that belongs to me.
He’s left his mark in my body and on my bed,
In the pillows, duvet and sheets.

Creative Writing

The Unmarried Wife

I hear a click and a clang of keys as the door unlocks downstairs

Perhaps it’s the unmarried man that shares my bed at night

I turn over and think about him, while he does his bit down there

Again. I focus hard but I’ve forgotten what he looks like.

I wait for him, I stay awake in the hope of some intimacy

I fix my hair and lick my teeth and wait a little longer

I become petite on one side of the bed and slightly straighten the sheets

What takes so long for him to come up here from downstairs, I wonder.

He wallows there or so it sounds; lethargy lifts me from reality.

When I wake he’s by my side, or at least the half of him I see.

It’s my turn to rise up now, ready for the work ahead of me

I’m a stay-at-home, who cooks and cleans and wifes about the house

When I’m done I catch my breath and watch my husband leave

He walks away, no words exchanged – except my prayer for my spouse.

For recently it’s been quite good, I haven’t heard his voice in months

It’s ending soon, I know the signs. It happens this way with all my loves

I’m ready though, I think, to let go and consistently take my medicine

My doctor says I’m to tell noone or they’d lock me again in the asylum.

So please, for me, as I speak keep all I say a secret

The 32 loves I’ve had, hereditary, life long and recent.

Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

In The Pages

Read it from the pages, my love, and be assured,
That in the prose where noone knows yet what’s next to come,
The mystery, behind those words, behold all the cures,
Slowly. Slowly. Like a rose it all unfolds at once.

But if you pause or look away you might just miss the bunce.
I love you, said in writing can never withhold le cœur.
Perhaps not grand, direct or clear but certainly’s the sum,
So read on in the pages, my love, and be allured.

Creative Writing, Poetry

Love is?

Love is patient
Love is kind
Love is blatant
Love is blind

Love is dated
It’s in the air
Love is sacred
Love is fair

Love is yours
Love is mine
Love is giving
Of your time

Love is telling
Love is divine
Love is of spirit
Love is a lie

Love is for the broken
Love is for the blessed
Love will triumph
Every single test

Love comes at first sight
It is all of last night
Love is for the moment
Love is for life

Love is costly
Love is free
Love is exclusive
It isn’t for me

Love is elusive
A mystery
It’s undefined

Love is maternal
Love is obliged

Love is eternal
It is The Sacrifice.

Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

Minds and Hearts

We wrote a list of our woes
The content of our minds and hearts
We infused our self with nature
Embracing the natural
We set the paper on fire
Watched the flames
And inevitably inhaled the fumes.

It was choking to the body
It was also freeing to the soul
It was expanding to the mind and heart
It was unacceptable to the society
But it was funny to them and to us.

We sat and swelled with frustrations
We sat and we said things
We sat and sailed into ourselves
The content of our minds and hearts.


Creative Writing, Poetry, The Fine Line

My Vices

My vices get the better of me,

I am disobedient,
They tell me – be obedient,
But then I find that once again
I am disobedient

I hate my enemies,
They tell me – love your enemies,
And then, I find that, once again
I hate my enemies

I am drunk,
They tell me – do not succumb to drunkenness,
And then, once again, I find that
I am drunk

I lie, to hide the truth I lie,
They tell me – be honest,
And then I, once again find that
I lie

I take, take, take,
They tell me instead – to give,
And then I find, once again, that
I take

I am afraid,
They tell me – do not be afraid,
And then I find that, once again
I am afraid