Hi! It’s been a while. In case you didn’t know, my name is Bree, but previously I have kept that mostly hidden on here. I started this blog in 2013 and published two posts that year, neither of which exist anymore. Then I didn’t post again until I don’t remember when exactly, but that post doesn’t exist anymore either. But in January 2016, blogging here became kind of a regular thing and I published something between a hundred and a billion posts over the span of thirteen-ish months, only to drop off the radar again in February of 2017. I definitely didn’t stop writing, I just stopped sharing. I’m not gonna fill you in on my life, at least not right now, but I am gonna post my favorite poems from the blog hiatus. And I use the word poems lightly here, almost none of them have forms and some of them are so far out in left field I doubt anyone will catch them, but imma share anyways. So, hold on, this ride might get a bit crazy.
Those who do not speak this language first often learn to use it more poetically.
to dance alone
in the dark;
all my steps
are in plain view,
for y’all to see…
and you’re not leading,
but do you still follow?
i wonder if you’re still reading me
the way someone who is captivated
by Shakespeare still reads him
even though nothing new has been written
since at latest sixteen sixteen
and don’t get me wrong,
i’m not comparing myself here
i just don’t know many greats
and Will was the first
to pop into my under-educated brain
i hope someday i will forget
to read your poems
stop wondering if you’re wondering
about me as you sit awake
in front of your keyboard
the harsh glow of the screen
keeping your mind awake, but not alert
my poems are verses from an autobiography
but yours read like fiction from a magazine
my poems mostly have no form,
but yours are too damn calculated
how can i crave someone i’ve never met?
i admit that i lie, but sometimes i feel
like maybe i’m the only one being honest
mid-morning, midday, or midnight
a warm hug of words
a fire lit in my heart
smooth liquid to fill my belly
my belly that still squishes a little
two babies and not enough sit-ups
too busy cleaning up spit-up
but i like it like that, soft
a book full of words
written by old dead guys
probably a few chicks too
mostly words i’ve never heard
songs i can’t help but sing
dancing on the couch
in the middle of the night
while everyone else sleeps
…a husband gave a wife a book of poems.
I love when books have inscriptions, it leaves a tangible piece of someone’s life with the book (even 3/4 of a century after), adds a piece to a story. This inscription is what I found when I opened up a beat-up old book with “A New Anthology of Modern Poetry” printed on the spine, it’s weathered red and water-damaged on the outside, but the pages promise beauty and wonder enough to fill a thousand souls and more. I’ve only read thru the introduction and the first two or three poems. “poetry often communicates when one does not understand it, and even when written in a language which one knows very imperfectly.” I like that.
We are God’s poem…
I found myself in Church this AM.
The pastor wore plaid.
I’m looking Jesus
straight in the eyes.
God wrote me long ago.
He knows everything
I lose and find.
He knows the end is perfect.
My heart transplant
began years ago,
but I’ve got years to go…
Until He stitches me closed.
And gives me perfect sight
and perfect love to give.
So my “break” only lasted 3 days. I’ve never been very good at taking breaks from things like this. I’ve got too many things in my head that I wanna share. Like the events of the awesome day that today was. A non-chronologically ordered summary of my day:
I wrote two poems today, one short and one long-ish (typical anony style), but I can’t share the long one because I let someone in and for safety sake I want to keep a wall up, even if it’s only paper thin. I had an amazing afternoon talking to an amazing person, H, who I mentioned a week or so ago. We sociologied (yes, no, not a word, I know, but I’m entitled to creative liberty sometimes) M and M while waiting for the buses to return. It had some intense moments, but overall it was pretty chill. We made a game out of tossing rocks at the second M’s empty suitcase. Oh and I bumped into C at the grocery store this AM and told him about my car and he offered to help me paint it, so that’s kind of cool. Went book shopping with my mamma: Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller, The Shack by William P. Young, I Can Read with My Eyes Shut! by Dr. Seuss, ‘What time is it, Mother Bear?’ by Gina Bencraft, and a Tonka board book about numbers and vehicles. Started reading Blue Like Jazz, I’m loving it. When I got home from school, I found that UPS had left me my next book review book. Gonna try H’s sticky note approach while reading it. And in between C and the bookstore, I bumped into a childhood friend, J, at the gas station. He is a story all his own that would take a lot of keystrokes to tell, maybe someday I’ll type it. In between the bookstore and the afternoon with H, there was class, which was pretty good, lots of lively discussion, and no one died, which is always a plus in Sociology class. Capped off the day with a trip to the local bar and grill with my mamma for some late night nachos. Other things happened, I’m sure, but those are the highlights. So many parts of my universe collided today, I had to remember to keep my spacesuit on. And now for my short poem:
I used to ask a lot of questions.
I ask a lot less now.
It’s because the less I know,
the less there is to like.
Like I always do I
Overthought it all.
Very nearly drove myself mad, but
Even thru it all
We still managed to
Imitate strangers who used to be
Lovers who long to be
But the world stands in our way.
Unless we can love unconditionally,
Intimacy will always taunt us.
Like a fire that
Doesn’t have the oxygen it needs
To breathe, but
Really someone is smothering it because
Us would destroy her. But we can drink
Seventy five south and stay up all night
Talking about where we went wrong.