heart head gut by Melita White

heart says:
this is good
will heal wounds
subconscious drives heart
subterranean rumbles
seemingly seamless with self
fuels ecstasy
fired by heart
which always agrees
always says
yes please
i am flying
and i want
fill up the more
with still more
i beg you
yearnings come from heart
urges cravings
stoke want need
desire for skin
softly melts
swells lips
mood set aloft
wants to soar

heart ignores head
head is distant
head is cold
i’m the boss
your filter
valorised by humanity
by vain argument
of capability
denial of need
my specialty
but use me
and i’ll keep you
head looks for neat sums
that feel complete
but rarely come

gut knows best
shocks and churns
in instant response
to threat
knows head is slow
to catch up
language and logic
its speed bumps
and heart too quick
to drop guard
get carried away
on a trip
gut is ancient
gut knows
and protects
gut’s whiskers detect
gut’s feelers tingle
with signal
gut remembers predators
knows foe at a whiff
knows friends too
ah yes
i remember you

head battles for supremacy
i know
heart yearns to have its holes filled
i want
gut just knows yet struggles to be heard

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

Kamiko…-Eric Syrdal

Kamiko ES

There are black opals
set into the gilded wood
of the Emperor’s throne

They do not shine like her eyes
When they look at me in the early dawn

The stone of the mountain
does not contain
the strength I have seen
in her hips

the river never flows
with such grace
as her hands
that offer me tea

spring rain
never falls as softly
to my ears
as her voice

the blanket
of night
knows no way to mimic
the satin of her hair

the sun
rising over the forest
and casting the sea
into a thousand glittering gems
holds no promises
more awe-inspiring
than her smile

nor the moon
can seek to claim
a light more fair
than that which
shines from her spirit

the wind
is a barbarous brute
when compared
to the feel of her lips

the thunder
of a summer storm
can not match
the pounding in her chest

say what you will
of custom
drown out voices that call
for a different time
when this world is ash
and the last soul lives in heaven

this truth has always been thus…

when her head was bowed
in deference to me

Know you this…

My heart was ever


upon the ground

for Her

Eric Syrdal is an independent poet/author. He’s an avid gamer and Sci-Fi enthusiast. He enjoys reading science fiction and fantasy literature and spends a great deal of his writing time focused in those genres. He is from New Orleans, Louisiana, where he lives with wife and two children.  You can read more Eric’s writing at My Sword and Shield….