Look Alike

The tree would only speak when the sun was at just the right angle to see the face woven into its gnarled bark. Mira waited until she saw into its eyes clearly to ask, “Why can I ask questions only now?”

“It’s when the light makes you look most like a tree,” the oak said.

This poem was created as part of the Flash 55 for Verse Escape.

Precious Gem

She spread them out in front of him so he could see. One by one, she explained each’s story.

“This last,” she said, holding a stone so red it was almost black, “appeared when I made a home for the darkness.” She blinked, looking away from him.

“Beautiful,” he responded, placing his hand over hers.

This bit of flash fiction was created for Verse Escape's Friday 55

It Takes Two

“It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.”
― E.B. WhiteCharlotte's Web

When Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads announced they'd be bringing back their In Tandem series (collaborations between the poets swimming in the pond) I was delighted to get a chance to work with amazing fellow poet, and (after a few years of visits and crazy phone calls) good friend, Magaly Guerrero.  We kicked around the idea of doing something Quite Serious, but realized, for various reasons, it was better for our health and happiness to go a little more lighthearted with this.

We are not terribly serious people anyway.

So I am pleased to present the product of our combined efforts, Anima and Animus, from Dream to Flesh. Click on the link to hop on over :)


I remember being not out of earshot too
and hearing words reminding me
I’m no one’s ideal of beauty.

I loved you then,
for our shared sin
of not adorning the world.

I revisited you, year after year.
One day, after a pilgrimage to a crossroad
that long had intrigued me
I found what I reverence, what I delight in –

you fell a little in my eyes.
I’d have never ran
from love to conform to a dogma
that did its best to shame me.

Then I grew a little more, realizing
you defined your own dogma
to align with the dictates of your spirit,

just as I’ve done. Though I’d go left
where you’d go right, conventionalities don’t bind us.
My spirit recognizes yours
and I’ll always love that.

This poem was created as response to the prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: My Dearest Book, I Wrote You a Poem. I chose one of my all time favorites, Jane Eyre. I love the book so much, I have an infinity scarf with the text from the scene where Jane and Mr. Rochester confess their love to each other. This is also linked to Poet's United Poetry Pantry #370

The meek...

suppress joy for fear
their light might make someone uncomfortable.

They are told
to devalue their drive so not to appear immodest.

I don’t want
someone to judge my worth on how quiet I can be.

When I am dead I will be quiet enough.

I’m alive,
and not the slightest bit meek.

Song Choice: My Shot from Hamilton

I created this piece to play along with the Friday 55 challenge offered by Verse Escape. There some terrific pieces there, including the one created by the hostess, to satisfy your poetic cravings.

My Love. Crazy.

I prefer your kind of crazy
to the sanity the world tries to sell.
I prefer the sound of your tongue
whispering blessings in my sacred grove
instead of droned heartless hymns.

I have no fear of the world
through the looking-glass
as long as you are on the side
I enter into. You

have filled my head with wonders
since the day you stole
into my tower built of doubts.
You told me my hair was magic
and I believed. You

enchant and enflame me,
until I have no choice but to submit
to the mysteries you have initiated me into.
I lay as novice, but rise as priestess,
adept at the skills you have taught me. I

cannot live without your madness -
my armor against the madder reality
I must inhabit.  I must play at sterile sanity
while the eyes of the world are on me,

but when they turn away,
and the stars are the only witnesses
then I will let you kiss me, madly.
And I will kiss back.  

This poem was inspired by a prompt given over at Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads: Play It Again Toads where we got to pick an older prompt to work with. I chose the Sunday Mini Challenge based on the poetry of Carilda Olivar Labra, specifically her poem, I go crazy, my love, I go crazy. I've also linked this poem up to Poet's United: Poetry Pantry #369.