Anger Boiling

Anger bursting from the seams,
Barely contained,
Ridiculed and deemed,

Yet it wasn’t I who chose this path,
Offered no understanding,
No empathy, wrath

Contain I must the slow fire inside,
For ‘the greater good’
I sacrifice pride

Continue reading


It’s a different world for a poet

Poets see the world differently.

Almost with a greater sense of observation do they expose the world to the rest of us.

They see with different eyes. Hear with different ears.

Like shared memories. You both feel the wind, but one notices the music it makes and the other notes she now has to redo her hair.

I wouldn’t say that it’s a greater sensitivity, because we all have the capability. It’s more like a choice and a shift in perspective. Say you were to flip yourself upside down. The sofa is on the ceiling, and the light is on the floor. It might change the way you feel about the floor, or you just think, “What the hell am I doing? This is ridiculous.”

It’s about allowing your imagination to do the thinking for you, and letting go of conventional wisdom.

It’s also important to realize that poets take many forms. Some are songwriters – some are artists making poetry with their brushes (Monet and Degas are favorites that I feel show this) – some are scientists.

That last one is a little harder to believe, to see. However, I believe that they fit the criteria rather well. They can look at the world differently; seeing atoms and processes and chemistry where the rest of us see a cupcake. Or seeing how the world curves when the rest of us believe we’ll fall off if we go too far – for surely the world is flat.

Poetry is everywhere, and poets are the ones who see truth and can communicate that to the rest of us.

China Doll With the Broken Face

Little china doll,
Once so gentle and peaceful
Now broken and shattered
To little sharp piece fell

But it wasn’t my fault
Don’t you see? don’t you see?!
You were in the wrong place
It must not be me

Little China doll
You now cut those who are close
For those pieces, now shattered
Gentle, peace can not boast

I have gone through abusive relationships, and one in particular keeps revisiting me. This was written to help me cope.

Sometimes you write to share knowledge, and other times you write to share burdens.

I encourage all. Don’t hide your burdens. There is nothing so lonely. Share, so none have to feel the pain of feeling like you are going crazy for doing the “right thing.”

Sun and shade will make the day, but the moon itself will rule

The sunlight smells of heat and dust,

The shade of cool and gray,

The wind it blows a merry tune to liven up the day,


The grass reflects its master true,

It cannot tell a lie,

The butterfly – it rides the wind

As it flits and floats on by,


A puppy rubs, and romps, and jumps

A single care is known,

Whether or not the two-foot feeds

The dog when they are home


The heat is but a moment longer,

Then taken over soon,

By cooler winds and autumn smells

Ruled by a longer moon

“Temper temper..” Another way to look at anger (Poem)


My little girl is full of fire,

A righteous thirst,

A just desire,

With healthy lungs she owns her cause

And marks punctuation with each of her falls,

There is no way to quell her flame,

As feral beast cannot be tamed,

And so direct it to a lane,

To celebrate that fire.


It was brought to my attention that children have the exact same traits as adults, and yet we judge them (and their parents) harsher than any adult that we’ve met.

That’s not to say that we see adults falling and the floor and kicking the walls (yes, that happens on a daily for both me and her), but adults do the equivalent in a lot of passive-aggressive ways because society has deemed it acceptable.

Yet we don’t say, “Hm. Well if he wasn’t allowed to do that he wouldn’t.” Uh.. Yes, he would.

We are given flaws. 

I want that to sink in. We are given, gifted even, flaws. These are teaching tools. These are lessons. An epiphany that hit me is that we, as parents, are here to help guide our children in how to leverage their flaws into strengths.

Children are raw humans. The traits they exhibit now (unless it’s developmental “just a phase”) will stay with them the rest of their life. If we deny that, we are denying a crucial part of who they are – and when they finally have the courage and self-possession to face it(which some may never), will have to do it alone and without seeing our unconditional love in their daily lives. 

What a scary thought!!

So I urge you, celebrate that fire!! Find ways of channeling, and directing, any flaw into a strength that they can use. Neurotic? What a great planner! I bet they will be some of the most organized people you’ll ever meet.  I have my wee one paint, and craft, to try and express her anger. Channeling something destructive into something constructive.

What a difference a day makes.

The Underrated Life of Poetry

What do you think of when I say “Poetry?”

Do you see dark, coffee shops? Black, brooding clothing? Maybe you think of the “drama queen” from high school..

To some extent I used to agree. However, I found this book… ten poems to set you free by Roger Housden. It’s curated content at its best. He has well-known poems that resonated with him, then an explanation essay following, citing the emotions that were evoked within him, as well as quotes from similar poems that he has identified.

What I really like about this is that it’s clear that he’s smarter than I am. 

Did that sound funny? Let me say it again.

He’s smarter than I am.

At least in Poetry. The depth of his knowledge far surpasses my own, and I agree with the quotes of other poems that he brings forth. His insight is clear and the explanation a new way of looking at the words written.

In this way he’s shown me another way to look at poetry, and the poet.

Poetry is vulnerability. 

It’s why we like songs. The really good ones are poetry set to music.

It’s as if the artist/poet has torn open themselves and have said, “I know that by doing this I shall be ridiculed, because it is not done. I know that by doing this I shall be hurt, for who else is as vulnerable as I?

Yet, I would willingly give myself over to the passion of living to feel, excruciatingly, every detail, than to go about as if I had never lived at all.”

This, is the heart of creativity. (As I see it.) A very real, raw, and vulnerable state in which we might connect with others through our chosen medium of expression.

Do you feel as if you are living? What would you do differently if you could? 

Shhhh… Listen.

Shhhh…. Listen..

The thunder is rolling. A low, deep sound with the edges cracking with unspent lightening.

Shhhh.. Listen..

The rain is coating, the world with water and a numbing sound. Creatures seek shelter from its cooling offer.

Shhhh… CRACK.

The lightening is here! Watch as it flashes its entrance. Dangerous, as it is fascinating.

Shhh.. Listen…

The wind is pushing back. The trees wave their leaves in surrender. The wind throwing all objects not attached in its anger.

Shhh.. Listen..

My spirit resonates with the storm. Calm in its unity, fierce in its force.