Poetry
-
Warm, woody and hearty; Like the old dinner table, Taking center stage in an ancestral home. Strong, full, and nurturing; Like a wise woman’s words. Ancient knowledge, preserved through time. Sweet, layered, and addictive Like a lover’s first kiss. It taste’s unparalleled, but beware the dose.
-
I collect hobbies like trading cards. Relishing the thrill of the hunt for for a new pass time to expand my collection. I cycle through my passions like photos. Flipping through an album, never resting on one page longer than a beat. I hoard potential like a child hoards shells. Putting them on display or…
-
The winter sky is white As the milky waters of Lethe. The stark clouds blend into a horizon: No beginning and no end, Like oblivion. The impervious sky, The impersonal snow, Blur the lines of heaven and earth. A void without warmth. A void without memory. A void without emotion. Only the bliss of nothingness.
-
The cold moon rises in a lifeless sky. Silver as the winter, Bright as a midnight sun, Shattering the darkness. Snow illuminates the landscape. A reflection of a reflection, A false dawn? Or heaven’s mercy on an endless night?
-
Silence. Muffled, echoing voices singing yuletide songs. Silence. Smothered, trodding footsteps in the light crunch of snow. Silence. Dimmed, crackling flickers of a soft grated flame. Silence. Measured, rhythmic turning of a well worn page. Silence. Hushed, intimate whispers of a loved one’s voice. Silence. Stilled, passing time in the winter frozen world.
-
There’s so many thoughts I cannot put into words. Sometimes the struggle is in finding an original way to express thoughts already spoken: the happiness of a bright sunflower in the summer, the melancholy of toy in the rain, the butterflies in the stomach and heart in your throat for nerves. We know what to…
-
In a quiet little town-close enough to the coast to look for seaglass in summer. Is a cozy little house-close enough to the woods to watch the leaves change in fall. With a few good neighbors-close enough to share baked goods and gossip in winter. Who sit around a fire-close enough to imagine the warmth…
-
My mind is a bowl of alphabet soup. A mess of mental health diagnoses- reach in and pull out a spoonful. Arrange the letters to guess the imbalance that keeps me in vertigo a single cooling blow and I dive into the bowl.
-
I am a woman- not just a womb. I can create with my love, but also create with my hands. I can build, and grow, and shape, and make; I am prolific as the Earth. I am a woman- not just a potential mother. I have a heart full of love. And I do love…
-
The storm covered much of the country- a last cry of clinging winter. Snow lighted on half-bloomed buds and winds shook the branches of the cherry tree until soft petals and snowflakes danced together toward the ground.
Bringing Mae Flowers 