Did it come to me in ember dreams
Or by the winds that swept worries
Out to shores of distant isles
To linger long and turn to smiles

Or did it come, at last, by sea
And by ship bring me memory
Of someone that I once had been
And that I so long to be again

However it thus came my way
I hope it might be here to stay
For if it can bear my company
What can I bear, but anything?

Slamming Doors

It’s better than it was before:
Laughter drifts through open doors;
So why does my chest tighten,
And my heart so quickly frighten,
At every hint of sounds like slamming doors?

Is it my unpainted fears
On the wall, downstairs?
Or the memory of a child,
Imagination running wild,
Listening to the yelling coming from upstairs?

Is it a weakness that is beautiful?
Or a strength to shield my weary soul?
Or a laughter in my mind,
That says to treat in kind,
And insists that in the end, no one’s really saveable?

Or maybe it’s the path I choose
At the crossroads of lose-lose;
And maybe if I try enough
At the game of never giving up,
I’ll find that there’s a prize that even on that road, I cannot lose.


Not every question is a riddle;
Not every answer is a guess.
Not every letter is a cipher;
Not every duty is a quest.

Not each beginning is an ending;
Not every ending is a death.
Not every staircase is descending;
Not all that’s missing is from theft.

Not every sorrow is forever;
Not every rain is just for you.
Not every defeat is surrender;
Not every mistake is a clue.

Liebster Award: or, the Lack Thereof

Should I give every detail?
Should I give none?
Or should I follow my heart
And just cut and run?

It’s almost absurd:
Polish my works?
How do I even tell
What’s right and what’s worse?

My internal mess: A dam mistake
Builds pressure untilĀ it breaks,
Leaving me to pick up the pieces
Of what my fear makes.


I have been nominated for the Liebster award four times in the last week or two, and I have yet to make a post in response to any of them. I likely won’t. This is not because I don’t want to — I do. But I am no demon killer, not by a long shot, and my demons possess the most inconspicuous things. The publish button they make a thing of horror. My internal voice becomes nails on chalkboard. Suffice to say: pressure builds, the dam breaks, and I’m left wondering where to run to.

I have gotten a Liebster award before, and gone through with it. But with the Christmas season, I’ve been distracted and things have gotten backed up. I would like very much to respond in kind to the generosity of my fellow bloggers — but things are not always what we’d like. I still have a very long way to go before I’ll be comfortable writing anything but poetry, and I’m just not brave enough to amble out of my comfort zone… Yet. Here’s to new courage in 2018.


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I have lists, in my mind —
They drive me off my top.
I have to do this, this and this
Before that o’clock.

Of course, I never do it —
It overloads my brain:
Oh so many little things
Driving me insane.

People think I’m lazy.
They never say it, but I know.
Truth be told, I may be —
But it’s my greatest woe.

I would give much
Just to know what to do
And how, and why,
And when and where too.

But all my questions haunt me;
And my answers vex me so.
They elude me and they taunt me;
But I’d give much to know.