No, really.
I woke up on Christmas Eve to the news that Clarendon Publishing will be publishing my poem, October Maple, in their upcoming poetry anthology called Poetica 2. I am but one of many, many poets included in this anthology. So maybe you want to check it out to see some other amazing writers!
Also, this blog is up to 50 followers! Thanks so much to everyone who’s been following me on this crazy little journey. 🙂 ❤
We interrupted your regularly scheduled
program, to wish you – if you celebrate it –
a Merry Christmas.
If you don’t,
then I’ll wish you
Happy Holidays.
xoxo
I could feel your presence -
passionate, intense like the eye
of a hurricane - just outside the
door.
My fingers hesitated on the
lock for just a moment - a
heartbeat - before letting you
in.
You slipped in, as silent
and light footed as a shadow,
simultaneously locking the door
and,
pushing me against the wall
with your slim body. I folded
beneath the slight pressure of
your
mouth, both urgent and exquisitely,
painfully slow. My breath caught in
my chest, head spinning with
vertigo.
And before I knew it,
you sank to your knees and
began removing my pants with your
teeth.
I think about you late at night,
when I’m trying to fall asleep
which is counterproductive to
relaxation.
.
I think about me stripped
bare beneath you, legs spread
wide in eager welcome and you
inside.
.
There is a feeling of awe
each time you slide into me
and I look down the long length
of you
(to watch).
.
Yet, even though these images
make the vein in my neck throb
I still fall into a deep, peaceful
sleep.
Shit poetry is a lot like Twitter,
expect that with Twitter
you only have 140 characters
to say
nothing at all.
Had I known it was going to be the last time that we would kiss, I would've given it everything I had and.... Bit your fucking lip off.
I approached,
cigarette in hand,
offering to share
but,
You squirmed
away from me
with a boyish
grin.
I raised
my eyebrow, arched,
a silent question
mark.
“Every time
you come near
my blood pressure
rises.”
Good morning everyone!
Since it’s been posted on Facebook I feel it’s ok to announce this here.
As you know, Newington Blue did Volume 1 & 2 of Buk 100 (second volume to be complete before Christmas, if all goes well) but, they’ve announced that they will be publishing two single author chapbooks next year (one prose and one poetry). The wonderful Michael D. Meloan has been chosen for the first chapbook (prose) – of which I’m thrilled to get my hands on – and yours truly has been picked for the second!
I’m blown away by the love and support Newington Blue is showing me. The chapbook will be 40+ poems, accompanied by illustrations. 40+ poems is a lot for any writer – but especially for me who is basically unknown and unpublished. I’m just… overwhelmed with gratitude.
So what does this mean for you?
I have daily poems scheduled until the middle of January. After that, I will be scaling my poems back significantly – probably one per week. I want to take the next two months to focus on writing fresh material for the book (which will be exclusive to it). It’s likely that I will not return to posting daily, and stick to a poem a week.
I am playing with diversifying my content as well – I do have some short stories (kinda) that I am thinking about sharing. So we’ll see.
Thank you all so much for your likes, follows, and beautiful comments. I am so greatful for them all!
I’ll keep you guys informed of what’s going on along the way with the book. 🙂
xoxox
Your filthy minded poet 🙂
Nothing warms the broken heart quite like the fires of hatred.
You held my hand as we drove through the desert, the parched night air like a ribbon that tangled in our hair. We stopped for a drink in what could've been a ghost town, had it not been for the neon lights wound around and strung between the lampposts. I got something to share with you, a drink, delighted at the thought of our lips sharing the same edge; it was almost as if we were kissing. When I returned to the car you were standing with three other girls - one who was barefoot, her toes blackened by the asphalt. I joined you, but hesitated because I understood that we were in that no man's land between something and absolutely nothing at all. But you somehow sensed my trepidation and slid a reassuring arm around my waist, pulling me close to you and kissing my lips with tenderness. It was in that moment I loved you because I knew I was safe.
Poems that Suck 