Fallow Field

I have not been writing.
I feel as though all of my words will say one thing
that they will continue to gaze back longingly
at days that have already happened.
All of my life I have focused on
instead of seeking
And so I have not been writing.
I will not give myself permission to look back.
Instead I pass my days as they come
living in them
each as a treasured piece of who I am
and of who I have become.

getting through a dry spell

it appears that writing every day for a month wore me out. i am dry as a desert. wordless.

that’s not entirely true, of course. but it’s been hard for me lately, with my rapidly fluctuating work schedule and other things going on in my personal life to sit down and shut everything else out and just write. for a month and a half, while it’s felt odd to me that i haven’t written, i haven’t felt it important enough to shut out the world and do it. this is coupled by a problem with my laptop’s keyboard … that problem being that my left shift, tab, and caps lock keys don’t work. it’s the shift key that gets me, because it’s how i capitalize. if you’ll notice, nothing in this post is capitalized, because it’s too outside my typing method to properly capitalize things using the right shift key.

with all this said, i miss writing. i’ve recently begun using 750-words again, and am using it to work on a story i started some time back. i’m reworking it, because it’s hard for me to get back into that moment once it’s passed, and i don’t feel i made the right choices for the story anyway. i need to write from a place that i know and understand for now, not something well outside my realm.

with things sort-of settled down here – work is behaving a bit better, and nerd wars well on its way and i don’t need to babysit it quite so much, though i do need to spend some time knitting and spinning – i will have more time for the other things that occupy my mind. those things are writing, and my obod studies, and i hope to be back in the habit of both by july. perhaps not as prolific as i was in april, but i want to write. i need to write. i will write.


to the quiet
the silence speak
as nothing moves
the darkness

in a space before time
in a moment of anti-matter
lives the everything
alive and dying
dead and reborn

there exists all of creation
all of life blooms from one place
from one impossibly small moment

OneWord Poetry: Plague

memories linger
swaddling me like a cocoon
binding me in place
a plague of self doubt

from this I will free myself
I will rise from the ashes
reborn into myself

Written for OneWord Poetry, but as it’s exactly 33 words and uses an idiom ‘rise from the ashes’, I’m adding it to this week’s Trifextra as well.

“In Which She Steps Forward”

a happy coincidence found us together
built a budding friendship
then blooming love
and fiery passion

but intensity cannot feed upon itself
it must devour to live
it takes (our) strength
and (hinders) concentration

we are lucky to have had these times
fortunate to know one another
to have shared
to have learned
to have experienced moments of wonder
and passion
and pure delight.

the future is yet to be written
what it holds cannot
(though I would wish it otherwise)
be known

it is terrifying to step forward
feeling as though I am without succor
without relief
from the unknown

yet I set one foot ahead of the other
a hesitant heart
an anxious soul
a willing participant in my own revival

Part of my healing process, and written for this week’s Trifecta challenge, which gives us the word ‘lucky’ with the meaning ‘producing or resulting in good by chance : favorable’

“Somewhere Along the Way”

Somewhere along the way
I lost the power to make myself happy.

I don’t know how it came to be
or how long it’s been that way.
I only know that it has left me sinking
flailing wildly
reaching for a hand to hold.

Somewhere along the way
I stopped taking control of my own destiny.

Now I’m afraid I don’t know how
to continue living.
I only know how to exist
how to reflect the glow of someone else
not how to shine with my own brilliant light.

“A Year Ago”

a year ago
it was not in my mind
to make such drastic change

a year ago
it was not my intention
to turn my back on sixteen years

a year ago
I tried to be happy
to make do with what existed

a year ago
the road was clear
even if it was boring and sad

a year ago
I was not the woman
sitting and writing these words

a year ago
I would never imagine
that I would be where I am now

a year from now
will I be saying the same
about the year that’s yet to come?

Written for two prompts today; for Trifecta‘s Monday challenge, and for Poetry Jam. Go check them out, if you don’t already play along!

“Conversations With Death: Evening”

Another visit from Death
came just after sunset.
A crescent moon hung low in the sky.
His approach brought with it
a brisk wind to stir up
the autumn debris.
He paused as he approached,
watching me.
I ignored his coming
and instead turned my face to the sky,
to the waxing moon
just beginning to illuminate the night.
He cleared his throat.
You can’t avoid me forever,
he said, his voice trying to be sinister
but only managing to be scratchy
like the leaves on the ground.
I smiled.
I know, I replied, and turned to face him.
But you can’t have me yet.
Death stared at me
eyes hollow
hands shaking from his own chill.
You’re beautiful, he said.
I stared at him
taken aback by that flattery.
He pulled his hoodie tighter around his face
not letting me see him
except for his eyes.
A breath or two later
he turned away, leaving me behind.
Once more I looked to the moon,
closed my eyes,
and truly felt alive.

Part three of this series, once more inspired by the prompt at Trifecta. This week’s word: sinister.


When life attacks
sometimes it’s difficult to focus
to search your soul
to hear your heart
to know the words to express yourself.
In times like this
sometimes it’s best to take a moment
to take a breath and close your eyes
and just be.
Exist and absorb everything
let yourself process
allow the moments, the hours
the days to lengthen
until you can breathe again
until you can see again.

Life’s a bit crazy right now, so I’m probably not going to be writing as much. As things settle down I’m starting to find the hunger again, but it’s been a bit hard to focus. I’m still reading every chance I get, and I’ll be back soon, I hope.

“Breeding Contempt”

We sit in our familiar places,
speaking of our usual things,
leading ordinary lives.
Moments of extraordinary passion
are rare and far between.
Love assured yet uninspired
follows a predictable path.
There is no time for
‘happily ever after’ here
There will be no fairy tale ending.

This week Poets United Vice-Versa prompt was follow/lead & usual/rare.