Here to pen, polish and provoke thoughts.
Petunias and promises Grow in the garden of my mouth Some spill on crepe paper Others wither before they bloom Some smell of sweet defiance
By Diana C.about a year ago in Poets
I want to be the poetess That leaves marks On your black silk heart And velvet words Tattooed on your mind But you keep
In a world full of pastel colors I will not apologize for my wine red personality Or for the daring thoughts I water Or for how long it takes to bloom into a flower;
I avert my gaze from the crowd Make them think I’m crying When in reality, I grin. They all claim to be Saints Singing hymns at heaven’s gate
Iron fist in a velvet glove Wrapped as cuddly coercion Wishing to pluck myself out Of my humanness Too sickish from soaking up
You should know that Truth surfaces like oil on water And you won’t achieve much With a greasy heart Slippery hands
Have you ever watched Candle wax Slowly melting away? It’s more obvious Than the destruction Of ozone molecules for instance
I thought I knew how to tie my shoes until I discovered macrame, but it turns out I just have a hidden talent for creating tangled masterpieces.
By Diana C.about a year ago in Art
I don’t write poetry anymore Because once the ink dries The words I scribble stare back at me With frowned dots And an ironic paper smile
All their lives People want to buy A one-way ticket Back to paradise Pre-time and pre-boundaries Uroboric wholeness
I look everywhere for them and can’t find them. Has someone torn them out, or were they never there? Some pages from the mother-daughter guidebook are missing, along with some of the deeper conversations every daughter wants to have.
By Diana C.about a year ago in Families
