Tag Archive: poem

Deep breath.


But the thunder still comes, fast and loud, as the storm builds.


Straighten your posture.

Uncross your arms.

Breathe again.

More thunder. Heat rising in waves, keeping time like a metronome, setting the pace of my indignation.

I try to get a word in edgewise, to no avail.

I rearrange my expression.

Confusion. Anger. Hurt. Dismay.

Go with confusion.

When the words stop the thunder doesn’t. Though I’ve swallowed the heat of my anger it’s not gone.

Her words stick to me like acid rain eating and burning away at my resolve. Was it me?

We’ll never be friends. Fact. Statement. Promise.

I’m engulfed in fire I don’t care to extinguish, and just as fire tempers steal I can sense a hardening in parts of me.

Blink. Lest the smolder in my eyes flares up.

Breathe. So the thunder can continue its rhythm.

Peace. It’s not mine to fix.


​I am Science. Define me.

I am no regal lady like Justice or Liberty.

I cannot be swayed like Luck or personified as “She”.

I stand without gender, color, or creed

For all questions and every need.

I am the breaker of barriers, the truth teller, the seed;

Fruit from the knowledge tree.

Yet so few can actually see

What is instilled in me.

I am patient not self seeking.

Jealous of your time without envy,

But at my core I am constant and freeing.

So do not allow yourself to be blinded politically 

Or silenced by ambition and folly.

Instead strive forward deliberately.

To challenge all who would dare to bar entry

Those whom ardently wish to stand sentry 

Over facts and figures approaching infinity.

Put your labels aside, throw away the lock and key.

Welcome criticism, evolution, and diversity.

For I am Science, defined by what I can be.

I am not a product of abuse…

no cuts or bruises mar my visage.

I am a survivor of indifference….

proud of the scars upon my psyche and the mended fractures to my resolve.

And so I live with the uneasy truce

between who I see in the mirror and the worn out images

held up in reference

so that I might try, tirelessly, to compete with a stereotype which has never evolved.

My success?


My dreams?


My identity?


So still I come home to clean, cook, and amuse

as if there had been no woman’s suffrage,

and I smile and nod in deference

as those around me try to force me to devolve.

But I know my strength and my views

and I feel not alone, as I am but one in this strong female lineage.

So ignore me and worse… make your inferences.

I know I’m good getting better as I absolve…

your hateful sin of indifference.

As seen on quoteambition.com


In the quite moment after, she smiled…

It reached her eyes,

And filled her heart.

It was hers, this moment, and none could take it away.


I did it! I successfully defended my Ph.D!
I’m sorry to have been gone for so long but my cup overflow, and sleep took precedence in my free time. If you are still there thank you, if you are new welcome.

My love


As seen on Huffington Post - all rights to owner -

My love is not easy to explain. 

It is an ache inside me; reminding me that I would rather hurt than be wrong.  It is the part of me that clings to promises both unbreakable and unknowable. 

It terrifies me.  Freezing me in place. 

I cannot define it, this love of mine.  It does not fit well in the pre-labeled boxes I am familiar with.  It is not the stuff fairy tales are made of.

But it is mine, and for reasons I can not justify I choose it again every day.

My love is not easy to explain.

Just to…

My Lady…

With dew covered lips you enticed me,

A maiden making promises of womanhood,

And I ran to you

Just to walk with you.

With honeyed words you called to me,

A woman in full bloom,

And I dreamt of you

Just to lie with you.

With heavy limbs you gestured to me,

A mother flush with life,

And I stayed with you,

Just to lose myself in you.

With bleak eyes will you beckon me,

A sage at the well of wisdom,

For I would sit with you

Till the end of you.


Today marks the first day of fall, my favorite season. So… doubly inspired by the idea of the Maid/Mother/Crone female trinity, found in Celtic mythology, and the transitions from one season to the next I wrote my ode to mother nature.

Break out the sweaters, heat up some cider, and let the leaves fall ’cause its Autumn!

We are nothing so much as a collection.  A collage of thoughts or feelings that, for better or worse, define us.

My collection is a series of sour notes strung together in a way that fools the ear into believing it has heard a song.  I am the discordant melody that plays in the dark to alert you of the danger not so far ahead.  Beware, I cry as I introduce myself.  Run, I caution as our conversation begins in earnest.  To know me is to smile at the devil.

I am a broken thing.  It is this which best describes me, not my height, hair and eye color, or zodiac sign, but the pieces of myself which litter the crooked path I have tread.  I lost my ears to the lies they told me, my hands to those takers who never gave back, my heart to lost love, and my back to the ones I supported.  Still the torn soles of my feet venture forward, tentatively seeking safe purchase.  Even now the fire in my belly lights my eyes constant in its hunger for answers, and in my mind I hear that nameless tune, which I mutter on endless repeat, that is my life’s story.

When I think of myself I see the splintered shards of a dropped vase.  The shattered pattern which is, in its self, whole just different from the glass ornament it once was.  Do not react to my brokenness.  Make no attempt to fit the fragments back together.  For, each loss changes me and each scar redefines me.  So let the key change in this song of mine, the melody remains the same, but flee before the entropy I so ardently embrace.

Because I know, not what will emerge from the next moment of destruction, only that Pain walks with me and he is jealous of my attention.



Quote from Janet Fitch's book White Oleander


I wrote this after watching White Oleander, the movie, based on Janet Fitch’s book of the same name.  I bleed for the Astrid character in salty tears.  I love this story.  I envy the strength in the characters and their ability to know who they are.  I hate this story.  I despise that we as a people can hurt children in such spiteful and uncaring ways.  I am inspired by this story.

What movie, book, or character has inspired you lately?


All rights to owner~who I graciously thank for placing their stunning work on the internet

The tides change and the water rises ever higher…

Yet I remain.

Glorying in the sensation of weightlessness.


The storm winds build momentum evermore dire…

Yet I maintain.

Begrudging the lustful hate that rages in the tempest.


The lashing rains fall forever with ire…

Yet I am sustained.

Luxuriating in the cold indifferent raindrops.


I…am the water bearer.


I wondered lost and alone.

Searching for you, my friend.

Following the echo of a promise.

Blindly trusting in you, a faith without end.

And what was my reward…

But cold fear and painful regret.

I never asked for much,

And even that low bar too high was set.

You said forever.


Pitt bull puppy found on the streets December 2013

I found this sweet baby girl in December.  It was cold and she was dodging traffic.  I have taken her in and fallen head over heals for her.  She is so happy and loving, all she gives is everything, and her first owner couldn’t even give her a safe home.  Sometimes I cannot help but weep for humanity, “that which you do to the least of us”…I think we can do better.

I fell


I fell the other day and in falling I saw myself.

I was weak at all the improper junctures fortified by supports and pulleys.

Strong in others where there seemed to be no point.

But I was whole.

Though strained and tired, somehow, I had remained intact.

I am a series of unfortunate events which have clouded my vision and tarnished my pride.

However, I am also grounded, headstrong, and capable.

I am greater then the summation of my individual attributes, inclinations, ideas, or achievements.

I am who I am today because of my journey.

Though there have been bumps and bruises there has also been joy.

So though I fell as I am sure to do; I could pick myself up and start anew.

Perhaps not over, as no one part of my life can I consider waste, but again.

I grow because I must,

I change because it is required,

But I want because how could I not.

I may not be the one I hoped, for the path leads ever on, but I am who I am.

And that is what I wish to reflect in every motion, word, and thought.

Me is what I wish the world to see smoldering in my eyes as I struggle, and rebuild, and continue.

For as I fell I saw not my disgrace or loss but my chance.

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