Random Liners

We avoid pain,
we avoid loss,
but we avoid living,
if we don’t pay the cost.

Your words are like embers,
ready to burn.
Bite down on your words,
and feel the hurt.



Sometimes I feel like I’m falling,

And there’s no saving me now.

Sometimes I feel like I’m crawling,

Trying to feel my way out.

Sometimes I feel like I’m standing still,

While everyone’s moving so fast.

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,

And the waves are about to crash.


NaPoWriMo – Day 12 (Haibun)

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt: We’d like to challenge you to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. 

I am entirely outside my comfort zone with this NaPoWriMo challenge, but this prompt in particular had me sweating! I had to Google “haibun” and then “haiku” to even understand this prompt. However, I wanted to at least try it so here we go!

Where wild meets west, the vast sky turns into a real-life painting of mountains burning purples, blues, yellows, reds, and oranges twice a day; a prosaic production. Stars sprinkle the same sky at night, until you crick your neck trying to count them all. On the hottest days, it smells like melting asphalt. But on others, it smells like dusty earth giving rise to life—Javelinas chortling while grazing prickly pear. Rattlesnakes coiling and hissing. Rabbits hopscotching across rocks speckled brown. Lizards darting between low-lying, crackly bushes. Cacti standing guard, arms outstretched, as if offering you a hug.

Here, in the valley, there is space to stretch out. There is fresh air to breathe and time to breathe it. The days are warm and long; the kind of days you want to cozy up to until you fall into a sweet slumber with:

Dreamcatchers hanging
above, snaring bad dreams to
dissolve in the sun.


NaPoWriMo – Day 1 (Shame)

For the first time ever, I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)! I will be responding to the writing prompts posted on the NaPoWriMo site each day during the month of April. The goal is to write 30 poems in 30 days.  Today’s prompt is: Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is based on a secret shame, or a secret pleasure. It could be eating too many cookies, or bad movies, or the time you told your sister she could totally brush her teeth with soap. It’s up to you. Happy writing!

When I was nine years old,
My mother went to the hospital,
unable to remember,
her own name,
or that I was her daughter.

There she battled for her life while
I went on with my life,
never missing a day of school,
where people would smile,
and teachers would ask if I was okay.
Of course I was okay, I thought.
And the house, already big, only seemed bigger,
without the person who made it home.

The waiting, like a quiet room filled with tension.

Finally I got to see her, lying as pale as the sheets that covered her hospital bed,
with her arms outstretched,
I was happy she knew who I was,
but I didn’t hug her,
because I was afraid her brain disease was contagious,
and I didn’t know any better.
My mom returned home weeks later,
but she wasn’t who she was before.
She was using new words,
and forgetting the words,
she used to know so well.
She was different,
and yet no one questioned it.
We just smiled at her, loving her,
not for who she used to be,
or who she would become,
but for the whole process that she was.

And years later, I found myself wishing I had
hugged my mom.


Scraps of Stuff

Scraps of different stuff I found written on post-its, intending to turn into something more. Rewriting the notes here.

I’m livin’ in the shadows,
of your love.
It’s not enough.


Boys like you break hearts like mine.
I’ve given up my life, to lies by boys, who don’t know people aren’t toys.


Maybe there is a limit on love, maybe I’ve used mine up.


I don’t know how to say goodbye,
it always turns into hello when I try.
And you don’t see what I really mean.
I can’t keep hurting like I do, when I see her with you.
It’s like taking bullets to the chest, when I can just be put to rest.
Hope is a stubborn thing, that makes me want to scream.


We’ve poured so much love into this,
and now we’re ruining it with bitterness.


It was so easy to fall in love,
it only got hard when love wasn’t enough.


I don’t want to feel the sun shine. I don’t want to hear the birds sing. I don’t want to see the leaves turn green. All they do, is show the world exists without you.


Words, words, words.
You know how to use them,
and make them hurt.


The sun licks your lips,
shining, glistening,
until they are all I see.

6890935137_20d6cce8f3_o-1400x867Photo: Jonathan Kos-Read   

Anger (Song Lyrics) (In Progress)

Anger rules our home tonight,
both of us tired and dreary-eyed.
Bitter words hanging in the air,
that neither of us deserved to hear.
You’re gearing up for another round,
but I’m not sure I can take it now.

I want to scream leave,
but instead, I beg please,
don’t walk out that door,
because it may surprise you to know,
I still love you,
so please don’t go.

We”ll cry out for peace,
make promises we can’t keep,
waiting for dawn to break,
before our hearts do the same.

I want to scream leave,
but instead, I beg please,
don’t walk out that door,
because it may surprise you to know,
I still love you,
so please don’t go.

26145429985_1cbb5d9440_o (1)

Love is a Plastic Grocery Bag

Sometimes I feel like love is a plastic grocery bag that you overload with expectation and it begins to stretch and stretch from the weight until you are holding two thinly stretched pieces of plastic that you hope will stay intact until you can get home and set the load down.

But instead the bag breaks and spills out all the contents of your heart for everyone to see.

Snow in the hair