There may be more to this someday, but I think I am pretty happy with just four lines.
Blue is generally something I associate more with happiness than depressions.



Are you blue?
The bluest sky I ever knew, and twice as true
I watch the galaxies go by spinning at your feet
I marvel when the stars bend down to kiss your cheek.


The Holding

This little paragraph has been sitting around for awhile as you can see. I wrote along with the previous post for something that inevitably I didn’t use it in. Also, like the previous piece, it feels as if it could work in poem format. I’m not sure I am ready to do that though. It could certainly be read with the cadence of a poem so I think I shall mark it as both, for now, And reserve the right to do something else with it one day. I did like the idea.

Found on Pintrest. I think this is called, Final Resting Place by Miro Johannes

I sit, not silent as the grave, for I am the grave. I am cavernous earth waiting to cradle your flesh, bones and finally your dust. I have lessons for your soul. I have messages from your ancestors and your ancestors’ ancestors! I prepare to listen to the weeping, the remembering and then, the forgetting. I wait to sing you into the great unknowing with the silent music that only angels, oaks and stone markers dance to in their perfect stillness. I sit waiting to hold you. Waiting to bear witness. Waiting to absorb your story into all the stories that have come before.
– LM 2013

Waiting to Become




Photo I took in Caspar, California 11-13-2013 

I wrote this piece, initially as prose and it sat around for a bit because I thought I was going to incorporate it into another piece, but ultimately, it didn’t fit. Looking at it now that I am finally posting it, I realized it might work better as a poem. As I wrote it, I was thinking of describing something abstract, not personal, not a relationship. I don’t think I meant to do it, but it definitely holds pieces of a relationship that had me in limbo, one  where the person I was with very good at mimicking being a good listener. They had honesty problems. And perhaps the most painful bit was that they painted a picture of the person they wanted me to be rather than seeing who I was. I ended the relationship around this time, but it kept resurrecting itself. I didn’t truly end for at least another year. Recently, I found out this person, whom I haven’t spoken to in two years, is still making up stories about me. I don’t ever want to feel like this again,


You think
That it’s my voice
You’ve been hearing,
I am only silence

I am potential

I fill in the cracks with my darkness
Soft as raven’s breath
The deep maw of quiet
Broken and whole

You dream me
Walking and talking
All the while I sit
On the very tip of your tongue.

I wait
I wait for you
To speak me into being

I wait
For your fear
To ebb
For your love
To flow
Bringing me in
On the tide of your reality.

I will no longer be
Remote as the moon
Or close
As your very next heart beat

I will stand free
I will be more than a whisper
More than shadow
More than white light

I have been
Only what you made of me
You painted me
On your expansive canvas
Too often your art is a lie

It is harder for you
To name my truth
So, I may be waiting
A long, long time.

I sit
All silence
While you convince yourself
You have heard
Every word

I wrap myself
In the muddy snows of quiet

And I wait

-LM 2013-2017

Fall Back

Limbo Samatha Louise Photography

Credit according to Pintrest: Limbo by Samantha Louise Photography

Fall Back

4 AM
Really 5 AM
Time change
Falling backward
Time for a change

I am just now
Putting sheets on my bed
I want to fall in
I want to sleep
But my body isn’t ready
It’s humming
like bees

I feel
needles and blades
running inside my skin
my breath is trapped in a cage
I can’t crack it open
Without the jaws of life

I am a fire waiting
For a wisp
Of oxygen

I was an unwanted child
Told I was chosen
Oh what a cruel lie
So many liars
So many lies
But that was the first

I am a question
Asked over and over
Fighting to be heard
Until it surrenders
Masked by the din
Overwritten by louder stories

I should be dead
I should have been dead
Over and over again
But death didnt want me either
I am in so many ways
A miracle
A joke

409 AM
I stopped spreading the blankets
Because I was shaking
Because of the razor blades
Under my skin
I must be smooth
as porcelain
I must be fine from the pain
But I cannot stand
For this moment
And probably not the next

I wanted so little
From this day facing me
But all I see ahead
With 415 approaching
is a small pile of ash and bone
The start of a migraine
A remembrance of sky
A skein of yarn
The color of a child’s disappointment

Over there is the roiling sea
I’m about to sink under
Black and thick as a body bag
I was so close to the shore
Please don’t let me sink
I tried to be a foghorn
But it came out a whisper
So you probably won’t hear me

Its 430 AM
530 really
Time change
Time for a change
Fall back

I’m falling backwards
Needing emergency oxygen
I’m afraid the fire
Is about
to go out


Samhain Knocks

Samhain Knocks

Dust and Bone
Who warmed this hearth
And Built this home
Every cell holds their history

Blood of generations
Made a memory palace
Of my heart
Their stories whisper in the dark
The past lives forever
While we remember


LM 2017

*Thanks for reading. If you want to read another poem to put you in the mood for the Autumn weather, check out my poem, October.

Too Many Secrets


too many secretsWhat are the little mysteries you hold
Between soft velvet sheets

Tucked in tight
So the wind won’t take them away

Spreading them wide
A scattering of bells
Peeling deep in the night

Their bright song
Drifting down
Through the curtain of your dreams

Too many secrets
Let them out
Let them out
-LM 2015