Phenomenal Woman



I finished this book the night before the passing of Dr Maya Angelou. I went to bed the night I finished this book with such inspiration in my heart, as if a fire had been set inside of me. The next morning I heard of her passing and was so grateful for this “phenomenal woman” and the life she chose to share with all of us.

Love heals. Heals and liberates. I use the word love, not meaning sentimentally, but a condition so strong that it may be that which holds the stars in their heavenly positions and that which causes the blood to flow orderly in our veins.

-Maya Angelou, Mom & Me & Mom


Real Life Poetry. It Hurts.



Our Last Supper


I know he is leaving, though he sits here

across from me, in my dimly lit kitchen.

Which, once was ours. He leans

over the cracked pine table top

to sip from the last glass of red wine,

shared. He cannot stay, we know. Then

will he go to a dark, desolate bar?

To wait for someone else, anyone else

to take him home. A black dress, I suppose.

He eats-

the chicken pasta I have prepared,

breaking bread in silence.

My heart eats, dying moments

of our love. Blood shot eyes,

focus on the food. Only thin black hair

stares at me from across the table. The table

that seems to grow larger,

as our plates become bare.

He is leaving,

but we eat.

WHat a NigHtMaRe



Night Sweats


I meet him in a meadow. Once,

often twice a year. He is familiar

now, like a teddy bear from childhood,

forgotten until you see its withered fur again.


Darkness. Only a shadow, his face

never been seen. Tall, waist-length grass

surrounds us. Staring at the silhouette

of one another. He lifts the mechanical


blade. The motor starts, smoke clouds. I run,

run from the high pitch scream of the chainsaw.

Meadow turns to forest. Trunks to hide

but roots to trip over. The roar


is deafening. Exhaust fills my nose,

I choke, gag. Hot breath rests

on the back of my neck. I turn

and I wake.

InspireMe. Poetry. Love.


What was the one experience that completely changed your life? What happened? How did it change your life?



Body mounded in rough white blankets. Your neck

and face taped with tubes of yellow drip, mouth wide.


For hours, I watched you, a goldfish in a glass

bowl, waited for you to swim. No words.


Beep, Beep, Beep


you were still alive, mechanically. Your voice –



bleeding my ears and your brain, artery rupture,

another chance to swim, slim. Normal life, they said never.


I said goodbye to your hands, perfectly manicured

bright red. Bright red like the lock of hair


peek-a-booed from the slit in the gauze. I waited,

watched for the slightest movement, none.


Swim goldfish, from this glass bowl.  Until white

is all that is left, from tubes and tape. Freedom.



Baby Holders



They stroke her blonde hair

until peacefully asleep. My fingers

sticky with laundry soap, spill

stupid small plastic cup.

Wash. Bleach fills the air.

They fold fuzzy pink blankets and tiny

clothes. At a glance I remember my fingers,


Long and lean with acrylic nails- pink

white tips curled around a can

of Miller Lite. They swayed to the sweet

sound of the juke box, the laughter

of friends. A cigarette clenched between.

My fingers hailed cabs and locked

with the fingers of a stranger.

What is Your Must Read Poem??


I am starting a list of Poems that I absolutely NEED to read! Here is my list so far, please add to the list 😉

“If” Rudyard Kipling
“Still I Rise” Maya Angelou
“I Remember” Anne Sexton
“Annabel Lee” Edgar Allan Poe
“MCMXIV” Phillip Larkin
“Lady Lazarus” Sylvia Plath