Diamonds and Flowers – A poem

I feared in cutting my hair I would
Cut away my ability to twirl the locks
Around my finger and in turn
Be left with a loss of femininity.
But femininity isn’t found
In my wearing of a dress nor is it
Erased by boots and leather jackets.
It isn’t seen but expressed with a soft
Caress of his neck or a hand through his hair
And flushed cheeks in the sun.
Sweet smiles and a head held high.
Femininity is the delicacy of a flower
And the power of a diamond
That will never break and
It’s pretty because it sparkles
Not because it’s rare.

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Don’t mistake lipstick for blood – A poem

a cracked lipstick kiss
tastes more than pink,
like spat cherry pips
staining curtains and carpet.
a scratched cheek,
bloodshot eyes from
not enough sleep,
a heart that is hot with
too many beats.

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Anthology of you – A poem

Names always seemed to sound strange to say
Maybe I was just afraid of them meaning too much,
But I just want to say yours over
And over and over, I want to savour it,
I just want to feel it roll off my tongue.
And my name sounds like a song when you say it
Or should I say sing?
I could listen to you speak for an eternity
Your words filled with life and love
And light, your face ignites with the brightness
Of your smile and your eyes,
I never want to stop looking at you.
You inspire me.
You inspire me to grow.

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How to remember your life – A poem

Music holds more memories than we remember
A melody is nostalgia and a photo album of sounds
I remember my life through the lyrics that touched me and
The songs connected to people
And days and nights
And moments
Some sounds touch the heart
And remind me of feelings I can feel I once felt
But don’t remember

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Becoming me

Put simply, this is a personal essay about how I became the writer I am today. I revisit some of the poems that kickstarted my journey as a writer and more specifically, a poet, and how I discovered my love for poetry. I take a look at some of the obstacles I overcame to get to where I am, and how I came to welcome my identity as a writer. Basically, it’s going to be a bit of a long one, so buckle up!

Writing is such a big part of me, so much so that I’m just not me when I’m not writing.

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Adrift – A poem

Maybe I’m a drifter
Drifting

I’ve seen so many drift

Yet
I let them

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The ways a place can hold you

There are different ways a place can hold memories. Sometimes you see them and other times you feel them. It might be just a breath, other times the feeling can consume you. But either way it moves you and either way it’s there.

Sometimes it can be like a waft of familiar perfume that makes your heart skip a beat. Or it’s like you travelled back in time and you’re no longer standing there but surrounded by your past unfolding in front of you. As if your soul escapes your body for a moment and the only thing possible for you to do is stand there and feel it.

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Sometimes I wish I could be like a tree – a documentation of growing pains.

Sometimes I wish I could be like a tree.

If I were a tree at least I’d know my purpose (or I wouldn’t know I had one).

But instead I’m here, not still but not moving, questioning…

Who am I supposed to be?

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Things the trees told me – A poem

Today the trees told me
That when their branches creak above me
It means they’re listening
And if I hear them whispering
They’re talking about me.
Today the trees told me
All the things they overhear
When we’re near enough
And our minds are loud
Every thought we think is clear.
The trees talked and listened to me today

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