Every opinion is a feast For a ready made Come and go audience Applause available No matter the wisdom And we’ve given our kids Hungry pockets They carry the world inside Connection… Feels less connected They confuse being seen For being known Being followed For being loved Being heard For being understood Being kind Kills…
There is a beautiful language That doesn’t need words It is written with heartbeats In our calm breaths In the laughter that echoes In the bone deep warmth Of a love that stays In a world that keeps turning Where clocks tick off the seconds Where people come and go But in the space between…
I have known heat that left marks The kind I reached for because For a moment the pain of fire Was louder than that of heartache But there is a different kind of heat The kind that heals us From the inside out An invisible blaze That doesn’t scorch the skin But warms the parts…
Years of healing has led to valuable insight about growth. Things I’ve been through I wish I could help other people through. Liquid streams of blurry salt Are coating every single syllable Salt shakers emptying on tables After everyone has long left Where ants make hills that glisten From leftover vowel’s discarded They are the…
A little over a decade ago my nervous system overloaded. It was powering a whole city and maxed itself out. Today though it is back online and more stable than it’s ever been. And I’ve found peace. It cost me though. Dreams died. People left. Hope stepped aside while healing became a full time effort…
A poem about long distance relationships
I’m bossy because I’ve been told that I am. I’m a narcissist because I’ve been told that I am. I am ugly, unkind, impatient, selfish, weak, overly emotional, irrational, and an ignorant liar. And those people are right. I have worn every one of those hats at some point in my life. I know how…
The words on the door said Only rule: Don’t sit with sinners And it was a room without chairs Just a room full of people Thousands pointing at each other Arms tired Fingers bloodied and raw Stitching scarlet letters Onto wrinkled, worried foreheads Everyone wore one None could read their own They called it justice…
Somewhere in the middle it stops making sense. The painting turns muddy. The story forgets where it was going. The project looks nothing like the vision that kept me tossing and turning at night. I think this is where I most feel like quitting. Not because I can’t do it but because it no longer…
POET BIO: Sophia has a daring heart. Anxious, full of dreams, and endlessly persistent. She watches as her fears circle the drain and then instead of following them she renews her hope and chasing the small opportunities in each day. She may look soft but she has a fierce determination to get out of her…
HASTYWORDS 