a little poetry after supper

So I’ve tried to be a blogger and a poet all over the internet for years and years. I fear that if I ever become famous those little pieces of me that I can’t recall the passwords to edit will be found and exposed to all. So it isn’t really a good idea for me to open up yet another venue and showcase more poetry here.

But I’m gonna anyway.

Here are the handful of poems I’ve developed with the help and support of a fabulous group of women.

candles

I see candles without their flames
and I feel badly for them.
They’re not sexy.
They’re not even alive.
Just wax pillars of missed opportunities,
but I’m drawn to them
like a magnet.

Does that make us the same?

I spiral.
I need to light them. Us.
But nothing burns forever,
and so we both wait for the
Right time…

 

E.G.

it’s shaped like a bone
not the real thing
not the stuff of life and being
a re-imagination. whimsy.
memory.

it’s thin and small
lacks structure and substance
but there’s none of that
in a memory.


Xanax

Generic for feeling
Take one for every failure


Not Nikki

They were Nicole
Both Nicole M.
Nicole M. who liked music
and art and outer space
Long hair
Big hearts and imaginations
Coincidental twins
Loved for being the same
Until she had to be different

They were Nikki and Coley
One good at English,
the other at math
One shy and one daring
Secretly competing
Learning how to be the only
Nicole M.
And then she moved away,
and they were
Too late and too soon

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