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Monday, September 30, 2013


I got lost

On country back-roads

And found

The true beauty

In the simplest of things


I got lost

In the music

And found

A gentle rhythm

All my own


I got lost

In the words of a book

And found

A voice all my own


I got lost

In his pretty blue eyes

And found

A sense of home

I had never known


I’ve found myself

By getting lost

Sunday, September 29, 2013

I Should Have Screamed

I awaken to find

His lips and tongue

On places he had

No permission to touch,

No permission to see.


In shame I do not scream

Or fight, kicking and scratching,

I simply freeze.


Praying it’s not true,

Just a nightmare

That soon will end.

I look away,

My stomach heaves

At the sight of his lips on my skin.

Please God just make it stop!


Forever after I feel the fear,

And disgust,

And violation,

And I burn with hate

For that man and his actions.

And forever after

 In self contempt I think

“I should have screamed.”

Posted at Poetry Pantry

Shabby Little Door

A shabby little door

Sits on the weathered, run-down house,

Aged and scarred,

Chipped paint,

With a doorknob that’s

Loose and rattles.


Who would believe

That shabby little door

Hides behind it paradise?

That it opens to

Joy and love and laughter

And the comfort of home?


Every scrape and scar

Is a story

Engraved upon my heart,

The story of us,

Of this family

We have created,

Of this love we have built,

Of this life so much

Bigger than we imagined.


I wouldn’t trade that shabby little door

On that weathered, run-down house

For all the queen’s gold.

For true beauty lies

In that shabby little door.
Posted at Theme Thursday

Keep Coming Back

Keep coming back

To this broke down love,

Thinking somehow

This time it’ll be fixed,

This time it’ll work,

Like it should’ve,

Every time before.


Keep coming back

Hoping this time you’ll change,

Or I’ll change,

So I won’t feel empty

When you hold my hand,

Won’t see a stranger

When I look in your eyes.


Maybe someday

I’ll let go,

Move on,

Wise up,
But until then

I keep coming back.
Posted on ABC Wednesday.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Through This Wicked Valley

Crude, earthy murmurs

Slip through the shadows,

Grotesque shapes that

Dance like wildfire

On the edges.


Trying to hide

The acrid fear

Ripping through,

I paste on a nonchalant fa├žade.

Chin up, face smooth,

Praying it fools

The pack of wolves

Chomping at the bit

To taste my weakness.


Give me safe passage

Through this wicked valley

To the paradise beyond.

Posted at Three Word Wednesday