Stitches Can Be Removed & Other Sewing Tales

i had given up
sewing
traded my needles
and threads
for loneliness
and darkness
then you came along
i started falling for you
stitching every poem
with threads of feelings
growing inside
day and night
i toiled to keep up
with the heart’s spinning
churning out
the most beautiful pieces
but you weren’t fond
of the hues in the fabric
of my feelings
never wearing
what my heart
made with love
so, with the help of
regret’s shaking fingers
and sadness’ encouragement
i removed every stitch
and started over

*Been wanting to post this for a while but have not. I’ve moved on from a lot in my time in this world. After Reading Brandi’s, “Letting Stuff Go and Moving On“, I am inspired to share. Here’s to all of us who have had to remove the stitches from wounds, pick ourselves up and move on. Thank you, Queen B. 🙂

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Abscission

during the poet’s
Autumnal Equinox
thoughts
like leaves
are told “it’s time
to let go”
and like the tree
the mind severs and
encourages each one
away from the branches
that gave them birth
sending them on a new path
to become inspiration
for new growth

*For the Daily Post prompt, leaf

Phonyus Lexiconus

the breadth and depth
of your lexicon,
exceeds the expanse of
the scholar system
you’ve imagined,
as you travel
in your thesaurus
(light years from where
you actually are)-
a dinky car
running on regular, unleaded,
less-than-undergrad
drivel

the actual mileage
(certainly not measured in light years),
as ascertained
by quantitative and
qualitative data,
collected in the syllable count
(including the plethora
of subject/verb agreement
atrocities and
myriad misplaced modifiers)
of ongoing word propagation,
falls short, just slightly,
of broad knowledge
and less than the intellectual distance
of the average dodo
(no offense to dodos)
attempting to enter
a house through a glass door

A Brief Analysis of the Water Cycle

convection currents in the heart
force metamorphosed emotions upward

cooling and condensing
they meet the brain

ominous thought clouds appear

torrential tears pour from the heavens

puddles of poetry form on the surface
seep into the heart
nourish the soul
and the cycle continues

*Inspired by I Am Sherif’s Pharaoh’s poem, “Words