Write a poem about her
painting between the lines and ink stains,
a collection of colors that personify
her giggles and eye rolls –
a myriad of brush strokes
in shades of blues, reds, and blacks.
With only three lightning strikes
to call it a thunderstorm,
she blew open the doors,
whipping heart ache and debris
leaving the wreckage all for me.
Seventeen darkened months,
being told I wasn’t worth a damn,
of being beaten and broken
on the edges of the woods –
lighting fires after fires,
spitting flames among the fallen.
I was the peacekeeper;
calling for water to get to ashes,
not to hold me still as I drown.
Still, Phoenix, is my name.
So I counted the stars
past September –
remembering the good,
before the goodbye.
Lingering twice on the lion,
tracing his outline in the sky.
Fourteen years ago…
I first fell in love with poetry – the ability to create something so beautiful with only my words and imagination. Over the years my hero’s changed from Shel Silverstein to Allen Ginsberg, Kerouac to Shakespeare – but one thing has remained true, and that is the unconditional love I had for the written word. From blue ink smeared on paper to my first typewriter, I have dabbled with rhymes and free-writes, abstract and undefinable prose to expressive and insightful poetry. I have had my heart broken through words, only to fall again.
It has taken years of insecurities, developing patience and honing my procrastination to get to this point – but at twenty-five I am ready. I have words to share and friends to find. Welcome to my own Storylines in Verse.
-asm
Storylines in Verse 