I’m sorry.That’s the thing we sayLike automatons mis-remembering the meaning It used to be I Love You.Even when we’d say other wordsSimple wordsThey’d mean I Love You, same as if we said itSaid it every time our lips were apart from each otherEvery time they parted To have a time – A long time –…

What if she knew she was livingNot dyingLike she believed she wasWhat if she knewThat she was exactly what she neededShe could finally as herselfWhat if Featured Download: If you would like a resource to help you write poetry like this, CLICK HERE.

He likes primary colorsbut he knows when Mommy is dressed up pretty. He smiles badly for picturesunless he actually thinks something is funnyor is tickled and he’s in the mood for that. He’s tough, and doesn’t mind bleeding a little bitto do something he feels is important,like practicing with his new skateboardon the street, which…

I caught you standing at my back gate. You were staring at the daffodils with a mist across your face. A kind of blanknessthat was crisp and unforgiving.You staggered toward me, laden with gloom,and I caught you, limply, in my arms. We were sitting on the back porch only ten steps later, the grey sky…

The morning dawnsA touch of goldA hint of ochreHer devotion ever growingReaching farFor all to seeLike arms of a motherInviting and warmJust for a momentThere is only she and I Featured Download: If you would like a resource to help you write poetry like this, CLICK HERE.

Mother is that you I feel? Exuding lessons unknow Internally unknown whom? Featured Download: If you would like a resource to help you write poetry like this, CLICK HERE.

We did that thingLet all the pieces get bentForgot to see the birds beneath the cloud cover We smudged the paper and the inkLet wide, swelling resentments into the cracks We made a personal warCastigated with half-truthsAnd struck with full, swollen fists We waited when we should’ve actedStayed quiet when we should’ve spokenTurned away when…

I will wander As low as I mustI will wanderFor my dreams are unlimitedWhether out of reachOr right in handI will climbAs high as I mustI will climbFor my lows know no bounds Featured Download: If you would like a resource to help you write poetry like this, CLICK HERE.

An image one could call pedestrian might still convey significance profound. For instance, water dripping in a pan demonstrates fluid motion, waves of sound, time’s passage marked with every passing plink, properties of aqueous suspension, how ratios of geometries link, capillary action, surface tension, volume’s effects upon viscosity,  prismatic colors, current convections, refraction and trans-luminosity,…

The cockroach of the interstate,he scurries on the walls of streetswith feathered feet that whisper secretsof the night to sleeping asphalt. Perched above the road, he trainshis eye to trace the shoulder’s curve,guiding his discus brush to swirlthe line like ballerinas spinning on stage. Inside, the world is still.With wrinkled hands he plays the screensand…

Tell me about your mother. And I am, just like that, reminded I put myself here. Here I lieacross black leather red-eyed.He, red-tongued lip-licker, prepares himselffor his favorite part. Tell meabout your mother. And I’m awareof my breath because of his tools. Like teeth his bone saw clicks. Temples drip like juiceuntil dribbling and I…

my father says women are emotionalbecause i cry when he yellsand he yells when i ask him to treat melike he treats my brothers. my father says women are emotionalwhen my mum refuses to speakbecause she knows if she talkshe will scream and make threats. my father says women are emotionalbecause i’m afraid to talk…