On Poetry #3

Poetry is the loveliest art, it has a wretched way of revealing our own character when we think we are judging the poet's. © Nicole Lyons 2016

The Trouble With Hearts

This evening I woke to the sound of Spring banging her fists, full of blossoms, against my front door, and I wondered how long it has been since you smelled anything other than deep earth and the absence of rotting love. I still wake up, strung out and smelling you on my skin, thinking the … Continue reading The Trouble With Hearts

The Keeper of Time

I swear to God, I am not proud of it, this wishing and unwishing, and the wishing and unwishing of more, as if that could make these things be something or nothing, or take them all away, or even add a maybe to them all. This wishing and unwishing are killing me. If I could … Continue reading The Keeper of Time

Under Your Bed

I have loved as I have never been loved, and in loving as I have never been, I have held the hands of gods and laid weeping before the closed fists of disappointment dripping with my own blood and barely skimming forgiveness. Perhaps it will come to me, this love, a love, beneath your bed, … Continue reading Under Your Bed

Among The Stars

In Memory of Gord Downie

Mind Fuck

Perhaps it wasn’t only my hair he had knotted in his fist; for upon my release I found my mind had been pulled as if it had knees on which I would beg as I crawled toward him, neck deep in a pool of silver and my name; reaching to cling to the tip of … Continue reading Mind Fuck

The echo of our intent

Our voices are powerful. Our words hold energy, and when we release them, we cast our energy out in to the world to breach seawalls and break borders. Make no mistake; it will be our words that leave the echo of our intent. © Nicole Lyons 2017