Affixed to the snow

Wintery eyes 

deny nothing

Her intricate braid –

Too stiff

Too rigid

Desires to wrestle the fire in her hair

grant the wind 

access 

to tame her

released

Docile never earned her a step

blood dripping from her nose

Drenched across her lip

gathering delicately 

Harassingly  

she discovers

She must cure

her own Malady

returning to the place 

she knows best

Rapunzel

evening stars
insist I venture to grace them

though shackles restrain and humiliate
heaven still persists

desiring the romance of the Earth
under my bare feet

I would rather topple onto gravel
little pebbles imprinting memories
of the plunge
dirt weaved throughout my hair
crying out in anguish

but then
he avenged me
depleting the youth
snipping the dead ends.

My name is...

Inspired by  Sandra Cisnero's, "My Name" from the House on Mango Street

My name is the color aquamarine. It's a greenish- blue shimmering as the sun sets. Sparkles twinkling and running around the water, playing a game of tag with the disappearing light.

My name fills my nose with salt water, causing me to gag, feeling an extra layer of suffocation. Sometimes it leaves a trail of dry down my throat, sometimes it takes a while to return to normal.

My name belongs to a mermaid, somewhere, whose lost the love she had for the water. She doesn’t really know her name that much anymore.

My name is three syllables, and moves like a wave on your tongue. Mer – eeeeee- na. The last bit landing gently onto the shore, pouring out the ocean, leaving the bubbling foam, and pulling back in whatever remains. 

My name is strong. It never stops moving. Sometimes it’s stronger than on most days. Sometimes its ready to let go.


What is your name?

She emerges from the sea

But not from the foam

It spits her beauty up

Lowering her to what she is

Scratched, scraped, broken

Marred with rough silence

Salt antagonizing her wounds

She no longer recognizes the undulation

That used to be her friend

Cowering, engulfed, angry

The wind mocks her vanity

An obscurity she has always known

yearning to be cleansed of this name

to know where she belongs

she will pay for her ignorance

her discoveries might allow her to let go

until then, 

she is a pariah

Perched on carefully placed rocks

Desperate for a glimpse of understanding

Waiting for permission to return

January 1, 2012

The first day of 2012 - 50 degree weather! What a positive way to start off a new year. On another note, now that the holidays are over, there is nothing to look forward to except for the cold! And time to start planning a vacation to somewhere warm!

Day -1

To a year of snipping, slicing, ripping, reflecting, analyzing, displaying a love for words!