I Am More Than Breath and Bone: Georgiann Carlson

I am so much more than breath and bone
I am Goddess
I am fire and strength
I am mind and heart
I am fearless and brave
I am fury and rage
I am glorious in my anger
I am sinner and savior
I am beauty and summer days
I am snow covered mountains
I am clear spring water
I am one with nature
I am every rainbow ever seen
I am thunderstorms loud and WILD
I am uncontrollable
I am gentle rain and raging floods
I am the giver of life
I am a living spirit
I am joy
I am Death
I am the beginning and the end
I am freedom
I am MAGIC
I am WOMAN


I’m an artist, a writer, a vegetarian, an animal rights activist, and quite a few other things as well. I love books, cats, philosophy, good conversation, Chicago and the arts. So my blog is full of bits and pieces but it’s the bits and pieces that make life interesting to me. You can read more of my writing at Rethinking Life

A mad song – Devika Mathur

"Quiero que la gente me deje ser"

Dear girl,
you know about such times
of love and supple breeze
of time and earthed sky.

A song you wish to sing now?
A calcined mirror absorbing your breaths,
watch it carefully,
a heavy heart shots of a mad sky

A mad song
it shall be
of your swollen deep magenta desires
of your clairvoyant dreams about him,
with a blurred picture of aesthetics.
You do not understand, for now.
He is just like cotton candy.
A bereft and a stark sky,
watching you depart

slowly

like a candle’s wax.

Stop your volatile behavior now.
for it shall tear your voice,
like a petal detaching from a beautiful flower.
Across this black room,
numbness shall rest.

I Am More Than Breath and Bone: I Am More – M.A. Morris

I am more than breath or bones.
I am the Melungeon veins
of my many great-grandmothers
as they run through the coal mines
of West Virginia into Kentucky and Tennessee.

I am more than breath or bones.
I am my mother’s and grandmother’s blood
flooding the snow melt rivers
of Appalachia.

I am more than breath or bones.
I am my mother’s iron ore,
her steel torn from the hollows
among the mountains of West Virginia
in the time of the Great Depression.

I am more than breath and bone,
I am the centrifuge
of history and heritage
of spirits and earth
of women who held
up mountains
for their children.

I am more than breath and bone.
We, my foremothers and I,
mother the culmination
of the next generations
to hold up the sky,
the sun, the stars, the moon
for their children.


 

I am a retired teacher, enjoying everything that retirement means. In addition, I have been active in the LGBTQ community since I was four years old and marched my Ken doll with all his little Ken accouterments to the big metal trash can in the yard. Yes, I dumped Ken, along with said accouterments, into the can and slammed the lid on. My two Barbie dolls lived happily ever after.

You can read more of my writing at Hearing The Mermaids Sing

Predator by Melita White

wolf-1836875_1920

A smile that’s too large
A look in the eye
Too intense, unblinking
The predator spots his prey
You
A shifty glance sideways
Evasive, furtive
A question ignored
Or answered too late
That too-soon bonding
With sickly sweet compliments
So many superlatives
And nothing adds up
None of his story
Avoidance, so much
His responses don’t fit
You know it, you do
Now trust it, trust you
And if you’re not sure
Just wait, you’ll see
Something will happen
A sign, an event
This thing will make sense
Of all of your doubts
And heed it you must
For it’s the sign you were right all along
And this is the lesson
It is the great learning
The one that you weren’t taught when young
Leaving you open and prey to all
But especially open to those who profess
To like you the most, to like you the best
And offer the loveliest love of your life
You’re so hungry for love and esteem from without
That you’re open to strife
For you don’t know the feeling of love from within
Or even the sense of a self or desire
You’re lost and need good people to teach you
And bolster your spirit
And he’s not it
No
He’s not even close
And you know that he’s not
As does he, but by golly you look so tasty and he wants to gobble you up, doesn’t he?

But you’re safe now for you know it’s ok both to feel and to say:

No

Melita White is founder and writer of the blog Feminist Confessional, a space that features feminist poetry, essays and personal pieces in a confessional style, with a focus on the MeToo movement. She is a composer and musician and loves making all kinds of things. https://feministconfessional.wordpress.com

The Haunting of Hill House – Marilyn Rea Beyer

Hello, Shirley.
We’ve been expecting you
to look inside and see how
long these thoughts have taken to brew.

Some thirty years,
isn’t that what you’d say?
That’s a long, long time for guilt
to grip you with its teeth of clay.

Enter the house,
Shirley. Look all around.
Dig with your hands in the dark
corners where old devils abound.

They will bite you.
They will pinch your fingers
if you try to jerk them out
and poison you with tail stingers.

Under the hill
that still houses your pain
lives the bleak notion that you
should feel shame and shoulder the blame

for all that you
did though under duress
when hard he grabbed at your breasts
then forced himself under your dress.

End it, Shirley.
Now re-button your blouse.
Switch on the light and say “No.
No. No more.” Get out of the house.


Marilyn Rea Beyer has read poetry in public since the 1960s and began writing poems in 2005. She holds a Master’s in Oral Interpretation of Literature from Northwestern University. Now retired, her varied career includes teaching, high tech, folk radio and working as PR Director for Perkins School for the Blind. A native Chicagoan she and her husband, author and filmmaker Rick Beyer, raised their two children in Lexington, Mass.

Featured Post: Secrets Made for Truths – Ashley Jane

we slip into shelters
far away from prying eyes
a cosmic clash of beautiful madness

we evolve
we move between
we metamorphosis into something
m o r e
something born on the wind
and draped in the wings of nyx
h u s h

doll face darkling
you were never meant to be loved in silence
but there was a satisfaction
in keeping you a secret
my mystery
my melody
my sun kissed twilight
you blend moon into magic
and leave me mesmerized by the stars in your eyes
h u s h

i am adrift on the calm seas of your constellations
the ones drawn into the heavens
just for me to find
while the clouds hide the sun
i hide in you
floating through
the shadows that longer
beneath your skin
h u s h

we strip our souls down to nothing
and let them merge with the night
we build and undo
shatter and fall together again
we excel in the art of drowning,
never dreaming we’d need to come up for air
h u s h

but all secrets fear the light
especially the ones that should’ve never been hidden
i am gasping
found and flickering
consumed by a secret
that should’ve always been
a truth


Ashley Jane is an indie author from Alabama. She has been writing off and on since childhood, but she only started sharing her words a few years ago. She is the co-founder of FallsPoetry prompt, which runs on both Instagram and Twitter. She also co-hosts DarkLines and DrugVerse prompts on Twitter, and she is co-admin of Her Heart Poetry and Our Poetry Journey. She has two books of poetry out: Love, Lies and Lullabies and The Mums are Filled with Melancholy. She enjoys helps other authors pursue their dreams of publishing.

You can read more of Ashley’s writing on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, and WordPress