VerseDay 1-3-19

Happy VerseDay, the first of the 2019.

While you’re making all of those resolutions, resolve to send me some of your poetry, essay or flash fiction to be featured on The Beautiful Stuff. Just use the contact button on my WordPress site, or e-mail me your brilliant stuff at sereichert@comcast.net

Enjoy!

 

Don’t lose your direction, nomadic heart.

Look to the needle swaying

In the depths of blood and bone

Old soul encased.

 

Waylaid by the plans of men and monsters

Fears and agitations,

False desires and hollows.

 

Don’t lose your direction, traveler.

Your feet alone touch dust and rock

Trails of world and earth,

Don’t let them plot the miles you go,

Before you rest.

 

Do not waver into their squall.

 

Do not falter, drifter.

Remember what your feet are for

The strength of legs, unbuckling

Remember, you…heart.

The pulse of your rhythm.

 

Find it.

Cling to it.

Let it draw your map,

Let it lead you.

 

You know you.

You know the truth of your existence.

Though they’ve taught you to fear it.

Though they’ve convinced you to deny it.

To question it.

To distrust the very core of your happiness.

 

Do not let them take your journey.

Do not let them own your path.

 

Be the master of your fate,

The commander of your soul.

 

Do not falter.

Do not falter.

Seek the astrolabe inscribed on your heart

The Heavenly body.

The incline of space.

That can’t be measured by the methods of any other man.

You made no promise to tread on their pristine track.

Their paved and acceptable roads are not your obligation.

You owe nothing but to your soul.

Only you can pay the debt of your happiness.

VerseDay 12-27-18

For the last VerseDay of 2018 I wanted to give you something amazing and powerful. Alas, this is what you get instead. (Well? Laugh!)

 

Next week, dawning the New Year, I will once again be promoting my submissions to VerseDay for the anthology out next fall. If you want to see your poem in print, please feel free to email or contact me with your poetry and/or essays.

 

And now…the final poem of 2018’s VerseDay adventure…

 

Honey Bee

 

Sometimes,

I miss you.

Miss the sound of your voice,

And the slight buzz 

Dripping Carolina, Honey

 

sweet.

 

I miss your fire,

the uplifting energy; an element so unconfined

The rushing ideas,

The rebellious feeling and defiant

 

heart.

 

I miss you, and your hover,

The way you called my flower the sweetest,

The only, under this sun,

You’ve ever loved, and danced so delicately across my

 

petals.

 

I don’t miss the way

Your deluge engulfed me,

Suffocated and overran in conversation,

The sting of barrage, welting my heart over and over again

And feeling that I was never quite important enough

To stop and take a

 

breath.

 

I don’t miss the pain,

Of the aching guilt you pierced me with,

The weight of what I should be,

What you wanted me to be,

The ideal you set

A high ivory honeycomb of complex,

 

deception.

 

Life does this.

It educates us.

Sometimes in human form,

and one sweetly hovering honeybee

Hard and hurtful once lured by the beguiling warmth

We must choose the limb to chew off to spare our

 

freedom.

 

You were my lesson

To enjoy the drawl but not submit to the voice

To know the sweetness of honey, without succumbing to its

 

taste.

 

To stoke my own energy,

To comprehend that I don’t need yours.

Orbiting in the clouds of your unfathomable passion taught me

To look for the fire in

 

Myself.

 

VerseDay 12-20-2018

 

 

Kiln

 

When you sculpt me today,

What shape will I take?

In careful, wet mud strokes,

What vessel will I become?

 

When you dry my skin in sun and wind

And abrade away the rough edges of my humanity,

What curves will your desire play upon?

Green and still so breakable, still changeable.

Scraped carefully down with blade and grit.

 

When you cast me in fire,

Warm bed that hardens the bonds.

What will I become then?

More permanent a fixture?

Or a mistake, forged.

 

Ruined.

 

Will you toss me into shattering pieces

Still not quite good enough?

Pulverized into nothing-dust

Mixed again…all over,

Cold wet lump returns

And I sigh, bottom flattened on table top

While itching fingers reach into me again.

 

What will you need me to be today?

 

VerseDay 12-13-18

dark darkness loneliness mystery
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

The layers of cover

are threadbare;

receding

I’ve spent so long building

these traps, these obstacles,

these ways I keep myself

safe from the world,

 

From my own heart.

 

and now they’re pulling away

like the ocean drops from the sand

Threatening to surge again.

 

But I’m tired of the weight.

I don’t want this smothering shelter

I’m tired of burying the mess

swept under thin skin.

 

I don’t want the false safety

the shroud that masks heart and desire

that hides me and my imperfect from the world.

 

I just want to be.

to stop teetering on a pedestal, while the world rocks it beneath my feet.

to stop seizing with fear

of falling.

being exposed

Naked and messy

pure form of rough-hewn human

mistakes and faults spilling out and over

ruining the world’s ideals of beauty

 

I’m tired of keeping it together.

I want to lose my shit.

and have the world be okay with that.

 

VerseDay 12-6-18

Happy VerseDay! It’s a bit late due to extra have-to’s in my life, but sometimes a verse in the dying light of day is all the more sweet.

If you have a piece you’d like to share, feel free to send it to:

sereichert@comcast.net

or in any comment on this post or at my page.

I’d love to hear from you, so send me your poems about winter, the holidays, or whatever thoughts have invaded your mind. Cheers!

Not Myself Of Late

I am long away from from the girl I once knew.

The embodiment of all that was good and bright;

swallowed by annihilating-gray skies.

Mired by the confused need,

Where my heart flounders in the soft darkness.

I pluck it out; calm it’s fluttering and gasping.

Gently shush it’s cries for you…

I let you upend me.

I let you through the layers

And the idea of you

Embedded into my soil.

Tender but steadfast seedling.

I forgot myself.

I’ve forgotten myself.

Forgotten that you are just shadow

Borne from the reflections of my desire.

A chemical reaction, unchecked.

I was dry underbrush,

And you, just a catalytic match.

But now

I am the fire.

I am heat and devastation.

I don’t need your suggestive darkness

To know that I am bright.

VerseDay 11-22-18

Today I hope you are all safely tucked inside, enjoying the company of friends and family. Take a moment. Take a breath. Let us all be grateful for what we have and generous with what we give.

In Quiet

 

Snow buries the sound

Of footsteps and breath

All softness of touch

And heavy with forgiveness.

 

A blanket of repose,

To cover the spoiled ground,

Bringing a clean slate,

A world of potential and rest

 

Waiting.

Patient.

Not asking to be changed,

A pristine shroud to remind us

Some things are best left,

Untouched.

 

 

 

(Early) VerseDay 11-15-18

Happy Early VerseDay, my lovelies.

Normally I would do this tomorrow, but my days have been very scattered this week.

So–

This one kind of came out of nowhere, but…it’s a lip bite and a coy look over shoulder. Share it with someone you love. (and I’m not talkin’ about your mom)

 

Ut Cupio

 

Chemical tendrils,

Desire laced and wrapped

around my underfed neurons,

Where every shimmering shiver of anticipation

Swells the wave.

Way back to the dark corners, where thoughts are safe to roam.

Where you lay,

Reposed and calm, but for your heart.

Beating faster,

Rolling thunder of hooves against Earth

Nerves and skin, sweat and breath,

Saturated in the quickening of time,

That it will come,

For us

both.

 

 

VerseDay 11-8-18

Hello!

We’re back this week after a short break with a new entry from Stephanie Chou. Stephanie is a mom, writer, photographer, and poet in the Northern Colorado area. She is currently working on some new projects. Enjoy a quintessential Autumn verse.

The gorgeous photo featured above is also Stephanie’s work. How lucky are we?

Feel free to comment and share!

 

Portraits of Autumn

Pumpkins posing on porches,

Toothy smiles lit from behind.

Apples bobbing in barrels;

Stiffened corn stalks tied with twine.

 

Chimney’s smoking with wood fire,

Cozy couples couched with wine.

Heads drooping, drowsy from school

Clocks ticking backwards in time.

 

Leaves turning vivid colors,

From green, to yellow, to red.

Foliage buckling in wind storms;

They swivel, sway, falling dead.

 

Shingles shimmering with ice,

Moonlight mirrored from below.

Window panes painted with frost;

Nearly time for Christmas and snow.

 

VerseDay 10-25-2018

What Was. . .
Hours fall silent in Autumn’s dappled shade
The undertone
Impending death
Swallowed in fiery grandeur.

Illusion of beauty
Laid waste by crackling footfall.

Wind torn branches
Stripped barren
Their cold black fingers
Silhouetted against the potential dawn
Where murderous flocks huddle
Waiting for light,

Warmth.

Never comprehending
Both are gone.

VerseDay 10-18-18

Today’s submission for The Beautiful Stuff’s VerseDay comes from Heather Hudson, of Aurora, Colorado. Heather is a writer, novelist, poet, and all-round amazing human. A warrior momma, and a black-cat whisperer.

Enjoy!

Marked

“I wish I could mark you the way you mark me.

A neon tattoo of warning or desire.

I wish, that when I touched you, they could see you also.

A bright neon sign that said

broken, shy or…dangerous.

I wish that our meetings could be recorded on your skin.

And others could see that you grope without asking

or that you have a tender true heart.

I wish we could mark you,

and then we would all know your virtues and your sins.

They would say prove it.

And you would roll up your sleeve

and your love or your violation

would be revealed.

No one would have to prove who you are. Everyone would see.”

Heather Hudson