Even now at the end of my summers I look for one. Skin just so and weathered from the sun, swinging defiantly from the branches overlooked. I pluck it, and the weight is good in my palm My thumb makes quick work of swirling down the valley to warm the flesh before burying my face … Continue reading Between Breakfast and Bedsheets
Few writers have the ability to make me feel their words in such a physical way, Rana is one of them and this piece is one of those poems.
come on to me,
slow slow slow,
wild-eyed and rolling, ready to bolt.
shattered, heaving sides.
shiver, shiver, shake
down your spine.
frozen, still ready to shake loose and hurt me
just in case.
because you know.
run my hand down quaking flanks,
speckled sweat, kiss your face, stroke your lips
storms and lightning in your eyes.
you know the sting and slash of whip-
boot heel, knee, fist.
whatever he had round at the time.
i feel it too, i felt it too.
sweet sweet girl.
with deep and shuttered eyes.
it’s the tight line of your spine when i reach for you,
and you lean and slide, reel and wheel, away.
gather up your strength little girl.
gather up your wind, show it to me.
silent now, lower your face to me.
lower your face to me.
breathe deep, don’t let him see you…
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About a month ago I was asked by a follower of my FB page to write a poem for what would have been her son's sixth birthday. William Dallas was born premature on January 27th, 2011 and passed away in his mother's arms on February 11, just fifteen days after he was born. I struggled … Continue reading On a Kiss
It’s been awhile since I’ve walked this dusty road, but I remember it well. That spot there, where the sun never quite reaches, is where I found myself on my knees praying to a God I didn’t believe in. Bodies upon bottles upon razor blades gleaming with self-harm and a cocaine glow fill the ditches … Continue reading The Long Road Home
Writing Word Prompt: Yearn Blossom and Bone I am blossom and bone with a soul on fire, and I yearn to touch the steel of flesh and icy minds with hearts willing to burn. © Nicole lyons 2017
Upon your arrival, peace departed; cut the brake lines and got the hell out of Dodge, with my sanity riding shotgun. © Nicole Lyons 2017
I have no words other than, “wow” and I must pick my face up off the ground to read it again.
fourteen years and a half has passed
yet somewhere your beat
for i remain not much
but a collection of stories
bound in a novel of erased memories.
i remember neither the sound of your laughter,
nor the way you whispered my name.
or how ever our air bent to collect your voice
and deliver, the cherished baritone
of your lips,
unscathed and treasured
within my years
for i like a fool, failed to revere words,
whose absence today
we remain truly torn
yet i find myself tangled in these strings,
bearing the throb of your veins
like a drum, rolling upon my skin,
and i shiver for those million whips
osculate the blood within,
and they rise
to match your tempo.
an autumn wind
beats against barren branches
whence no leaves dance to,
and I am engulfed…
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