people tend to see
what they want to believe
so if they only see the light
they’ll think everything’s
o.k.
writers
“Beloved”
to be loved
is overrated
to be love
is sometimes difficult
to have love
is to have God
to experience love
is to be one with Him
“Creating Love”
this picture decribes my marriage
the light you see is hope
I blindly fell in love with him from a distance
through God’s heart
so when I came to live with him face to face
my eyes were opened to see
we had nothing in common
nothing to talk about
he had no goals for the kids
and treated me unkind
so love wasn’t an issue
it just wasn’t there
yet I’m married
so I’m here
and the more I get to know him
how it hurts to be married
nothing in common
nothing to talk about
but I’m here
marriage counseling
effort
and faith
are what I’m using
to create a love
that might last through the dark
“Anonymys”
I’ve finally gotten
to the place
I never wanted
to be
where there’re no words
no expression of thought
to reach out to others
from inside
a place where I’m not
my own
a place hidden away
behind a curtain
and it breaks my heart
one thing different
about me
has been my
transparency
well
when two become one
I guess I’m not one
anymore
but two
and my other half
would like to leave
his book closed
this is so very sad to me
I can’t explain how it
hurts
and maybe – now –
I can’t
was this part of God’s plan
I can’t imagine it would be
we’ll see how it goes
maybe writing in code
if he knew what was on ‘here’
it’d break him
he only sees faKebook
and that hurts him
if I could turn back time
I’d never get married
I’d never split up my kids
I’d never be in Texas
but here I am
a writer without a pen
a poet without an outlet
a wife without a smile
a woman trapped
on the inside
“Moving Boxes”
if I had time to write
I’d cry
if I had time to cry
I’d write
Write Away
All throughout childhood, permission was needed to do just about anything: at home, in school, at a friend’s house, etc. It was always polite to ask, necessary to wait, expected to raise your hand in class. I wonder when I grew out of that, or did I? Continue reading
“Just Another Wonder”
there’s a part of me I don’t understand
there’s a part of me I do
when I think of all the writers in the world
I think ‘who am I’ Continue reading
Question
Do all writers spend a lot of time alone?
“Impossible Silence”
it’s hard for a poet to hide
hard for a writer to remain unseen Continue reading
Worship Flags and Infinity Scarfs 