Tag: Poem

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Heads Up! | Life Updates

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accompanied by illustrations. 40+ poems is a lot for any writer – but especially for me who is basically unknown and unpublished.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 🙂

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Fertile Valleys | Poems that Suck

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.
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Beloved: A Poem for Palestine | Poems that Suck

This is the poem that won the Anita McAndrews Poetry Award

There’s a funny story behind this poem:


It was written in January of 2017 – 1 month after I returned from Palestine the first time. It is the product of a class assignment: I had to write a Psalm using non-traditional language and non-traditional versing. I was PISSED that I had to write this (if any of you know me, there’s two parts of the Bible I cannot stand – Psalms and anything Paul wrote). I put it off for a week, grumbling and bitching about having to do it. I was, additionally, experiencing a major depressive episode at the time and just didn’t have the energy to do it. So the night before it was due, I sat down and wrote this.


Funny how life works out, huh?

You can read it here or below:

Beloved:

You called me to the ends of the Earth,
the place where your breath sighs,
so that I might suffer to find
brotherhood.

I met you at every step, the ochre
Judean sands gritting between my
toes as I tried to match you;
heel to toe.

Your spirit whipping my hair, as
I traced the desolate crescendos
of the South Hebron Hills in the dying
winter light.

I have known the fragile weight of you,
destroyed, in my open arms as despair
swallowed me on the rocky shores of
the Kinneret.

Heard your voice transform from singing
in a sumptuous Arabi to the shrill scream
of terror as I stood, useless, on the rooftops:
Al-Khalil.

I have seen your face in its forms of hurt
and healing; bruised purple, smeared with
blood, swollen; the gift of a crazed soldier
or settler.

Smelled the acrid stench of burning wire,
choking me, stinging my eyes as I trudged
knee deep in filth to bring your children
to kindergarten.

Beloved:

You have called to where my heart throbs
thrice: Fal-a-steen -and I can’t ever hope
to rid myself of the land, the people, or
the life.

You invite me, now, to receive you in
the fruit of the vine, to fill myself
with your sacrifice so that I might match you
heel to toe.

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Waiting | Poems that Suck

"There's showers here,"
 I didn't think much of this information
  until I watched you walk toward the building -
   each step lingering - hope in every footprint. 

You stopped one last time, 
 at the doors of your destination
  and I could feel the glee of your 
   mischievous grin from across the field. 

I found you there, stripped
 bare and radiant in your beauty,
                        waiting for me...
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Judas | Poems that Suck

I'm tired --
tired of being tired,
of feeling like my body
is held down by anchors sunk
to unfathomable depths, leaving me
struggling for air, for energy.

I'm tired --
of waking up to feel
like going back to sleep,
where my body is whole and 
full of life.

I'm tired --
of running interference
with exhaustion, and mitigating
it with so much coffee that my 
piss stinks of it.

I'm fucking tired --
the spirit is willing, is 
full of fire and passion, 
but this Judas of a body is weak.