Dear Me – Epistolary Poem

Dear Me,

What have you become? You’ve crashed, due to a faulty system. Maybe your wiring’s bad. Or your connection has faded. It’s like you lost all you had, and the cost left you jaded. You’ve plugged yourself into too many sources and now you’re stuck running their courses. Jumping their hurdles, running their races. Passing by so quickly, it’s nothing but a blur of faces. Make it stop, or at least slow down. I’m tired of seeing your face stained with a frown. You’re fighting a battle, I know you are. But don’t waste your life on the front lines of war. Calm down, breathe, and let go. It will be hard, but take it slow. You’re stretching too far and wearing yourself thin, give yourself time to let it all in. Don’t become this figment of who you were, live for today and be all that you are.




The blood pumping
through my veins
or the thoughts
that can’t escape my brain.
-What is it
that makes me believe
that the world around me
isn’t all that it seems?

I look beyond
what’s plain to see
and open my eyes
to what could be.

So many others
hold their eyes closed
and to what I know,
they’ll never be exposed.

Keeping their vision
planted too firmly in reality
restrains their growth
and erases their morality.

For all they see
is all the cruelty,
what’s real, set in concrete-
instead of all the possibilities.

Image credit:

The Pen


I was just a girl
observing the world
when a passion inside
began to unfurl.

My heart kept
at my mind.

But it wouldn’t take the time
to listen
or think
about what ravaged through me.

My soul felt numb.
In need-
In need of something.
Something to light the fuse.
Something to light the fire.
Something to warm the coals
of my soul which had grown cold.

As this plight caught my throat,
I choked on the thought.
If I spoke the words
I wished to say,
I surely would.

So as I gasped for air
behind this notion of thought,
I grasped for the pen
and sat down to write.

Photo credit:

The Wrecked


Those who truly care
are locked out of sight.
The rest are emotionless, bare-
Only faking polite.

Their manners have diminished,
their compassion is frayed.
We are all unfinished,
our colors all fade.

But those who act
like what they are not-
their hearts are cracked,
their throats, tied in knots.

The rest who provide
humanity and respect
should feel pride
for not becoming wrecked.

New Interactive Poetry!

Several months ago, I began doing something I call interactive poetry, which is where I ask my followers to provide me with words for new poems. I would like to start this back up, but add to it.
The purpose of this blog was, partly, to grow as a writer and I think one of the best ways for me to do that is to challenge myself. Err… have you challenge me!
Words are great and I still appreciate them if you offer, but I am also opening this to photo prompts.
If you would like to give me words or a photo for me to write a poem on, comment on this post, email me, tweet me, tag me on instagram, or post it to my Facebook wall and I will accept your challenge!

*If you participate and I don’t respond to your request within a day, remind me! It’s easy for my response to not go through or for me to forget to respond. I don’t want to accidentally ignore your prompt!*

The Fog of Yesterday


The wind
from each passing day
breezes by
with nothing left to say.
leaving the world to chance.
ignoring all I had planned.

Why do the days
pass by without notice?
I never moved
but days passed fall from focus.

The world around me
is suddenly changing.
Every day-
nothing’s the same.

How am I surrounded
by things I’m so unsure of,
but so lost
in this expanding fog?

This fog of yesterday
clouding my soul
clenching on
to all I’ve ever known.

But yesterday is gone
it’s in the past.
No matter how bad you may need it-
It never lasts.



What is bravery?
Can any of us truly define
this word-
so vague,
so diverse,
so different in everyone’s mind.

Whether it’s fighting a battle
that’s so often lost
or finally being yourself
no matter the cost.

To each-
their own
we may live together
but we’re ourselves alone.

No one is to say
what is brave to another.
Because for you it may be easy,
but for them, the road is much rougher.

Bravery is doing something-
anything at all
that causes you to rise up
after you fall.

A Waste

What happens
When you run out of words?

When the spark
That once lit your fire
Fades away
And leaves your mind
Sitting in the dark.

You stare at the paper
With pen in hand
But all that comes out
Are scribbles and
Little words
That amount to nothing-
That don’t make sense
Or mean a thing.

Their worthless,
A waste of ink and paper.
A waste of time.
And the waste of my mind.