Tag: Poetry

Shadows

Good and bad things happen in the shadows

I have learned that light not only reveals but bends

Is it wise to be so open and spill truths

To be taken and uses for others gains

I am the good that is hidden with pointed teeth

Docile and meek

are for those who fear shadows

(When I am ready to reveal what is happening. You will be the first to know)

Sorry?? (poem)

What does the word even mean

An apology that is supposed to be given when felt

The word does not erase the feelings

That absolute absurdity of it

As a child you were made to say your sorry

Looking in that same child’s eyes 

There is not an ounce of remorse

Confusion

Anger

Adolescents are no better

Sorry rolls off the tongue to remove you from sight

Why say the word when they have done no wrong

Too sensitive

Delusional

Adults are a quagmire of word play

Rather the meaning of the word sorry

Sorry that you were caught…

Sorry that you heard it that way….

Sorry that you are having difficulty…

When are we going to realize

Sorry is only believed when the soul feels it

Within we have a natural detector to know when it is true

And when it is false

I have lived a life accepting and giving, sorries

And in this life time

Short as it is

I felt the truth

And given my truth

I feel such sorrow

For all of humanity

Because sorry cannot erase the damage/the carnage

Still, sorry falls from lips with no remorse, just avoidance

Hey You Guy’s

I have great news. I will have a table at Book Con 2026′. I am freaking out about it.

I will be representing Hypo Frost Magazine and Bookstore, and Stars Rite. A writing community. My table will represent both. Those writers who are published will be on the table.

I will post some pictures so you can see and tell all of you about the experience. That is it for now.

Fia.

My Love (Poem)

My love does not lay in a bed of roses

nor does my love like to follow a trail of dying petals.

My love does not have poise’s woven into her hair,

My love is not conventional.

It is potent

Dash away the repetitive symbols,

For my love do not require these objects.

For my love will always cherish the moments.

The memory of the first hand holding,

The first held breath,

The first gentle and  truth in a kiss.

My love is not in the past,

but ever present in the now.

Fia Naturie

Chocolate?

The person who created this concoction, I am convinced, was just trying to lull some unsuspecting woman into a state of euphoric bliss before pouncing on them.

What a way to start this right. Kill me off. Death by chocolate. Any way I will continue as I laugh at myself.

I notice that my poems get a lot of love, and my stories, as long as they are short, are being read. When I see the likes its like having chocolate for me.

I just devour it and then smile. This is just me musing over my thoughts today since it is valentines day.

I wish you all a happy one.

What’s on my mind

There are days I feel like I spread myself too thin, like butter on dried toast. You know how the heat from the toast just melts it in the crevasse. Then there are days I feel like I am the tube of butter a one slice of toast couldn’t melt me in its wildest dreams. lol

What an opening, just to say I have a lot on my plate. I have finished the third edition of my Hypo Frost magazine, and I have created an online bookstore where I import books myself. On top of that, I am running a poetry and writing site.

What is wrong with me? lol

I am a writer. I love creating worlds in my mind or doing twisted things to people in this world. My poetry is free-flowing thoughts and emotions. In one year, I wrote over 500 poems. some long, some short, but all mine. Well a few I did with a partner.

I guess I can be convincing if I want to collaborate on poetry and stories. Why am I writing this? I just need to write. I wanted to give you all an update and at the same time just write my thoughts as it tumbles out.

As
words
trickle
down
from
a
mind
consumed
with
thought,

One wonders with the flow stop, and will the pool stay still stagnant?

I will keep going till the water stops flowing. I hope you do too. fire starters.

Poetic Voyeur

Why am I drawn to your writing?

I’m not sure myself.

 Is it because I can see the damage and every word

Or is it that I can see you 

See, you get so engulfed in every word 

To make your point come across?

It’s my own form of voyeurism. 

You’re so open in a different way.

Do you pull your hair and get aggravated 

When you can’t get the right words

Or when you’re writing something salacious, 

do you put the phone down? So no one can see? 

Maybe you could close the book. When you feel, 

your ears are turning red from what your mind created 

To see the human body and all its splendor on the outside.

 Is deliciousI 

I will not deny that

But to see what’s inside the mind is so damn sexy.

I like to watch as you toil around thoughts

.And then present it to me

Do you give secret notes away?

I’m a greedy bitch

Is it wrong for my beast to stir when you do

As I read the pulse in my neck begins to beat fast

Breathing air is difficult

When did air become thick

I feel my heart start to stutter

Not realizing I stop breathing altogether

It’s a drug, the words

Sweet then dangerous

A tender kiss to open one up

Then the moment a moan escapes

The world slips away

It’s just the words

The ache

The  need

Half-hooded eyes

Blown pupils

Inner heat

Created by the poet

When it all comes to an end

I’m left with the tremors

I’ll wait until the next

Poetic piece

The question is…

When can I …

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