The wheels of the bus grind into my flesh.
You proffer your own salvation,
as martyrdom trumps your hand.
Bitch show.
Freak show.
Leave me the fuck alone show.
Let me sleep my nights in peace
and walk around corners
forethought free.
Bark into your own backyard.
Eat what you put out there;
antacids don’t soothe vitriol.
Choke, you bitch.
Choke on the reflux of your words.
Brenda Warren 2015
I’m preparing my house for one to two weeks of only me.
Limbo Land
as opposed to LaLa Land
on its way to Ohio.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
We scavenge all our shit
with story
threading knotted connections
tangling strength.
Brenda Warren 2015
flickering roots potatoes
with eyes fixed to stories
scandalous
indecent
murderous tales told
in color and light
tales that break for product placement
we sit for hours
to cultivate the vegetables
we become
Brenda Warren 2015
The prompt was to write a poem that is a riddle.
Out back
where the garden bench
beckons
a wild tangle of roses
spices the air.
Brenda Warren 2015
Day 12, and I’m running out of poetic steam. This picture is from last summer. I’ll miss my Montana roses, but the bench is coming along for the ride.
Packing our belongings,
going through our stuff,
you think we’d overcome the need
to never have enough.
I won’t say we’re hoarders
but as boxes pile high,
we’re both inclined to take a torch
and bid our stuff goodbye.
Brenda Warren 2015
Write about coffee.
Write about dogs.
Write about murmuring starlings.
Write about money.
Write about love,
just be sure to kill your darlings.
Brenda Warren 2015
If you’ve read Stephen King’s book, On Writing, you understand the importance of killing your darlings.
This town is feeding on my heart.
I hope it gets indigestion
I hope it belches snippets
of the moments we once shared—
walking dogs along the river’s edge,
twirling in the halls at school,
feeling breezes atop Hill 57,
these fleeting snippets of heaven.
Brenda Warren 2015
my bed eats sleep for breakfast
it’s hungry at 3 a.m.
it tosses and turns me over
then changes its mind again
my bed likes me over easy
my bed likes me sunny side up
mostly it wants me scrambled
finally I just get up
Brenda Warren 2015
Spring Break is no more. I wrote a quick ditty too early this morning, and will check out the daily prompt later.
Morning sighs its arrival
breathing sleep aside.
Denying her charms
you slumber,
holy in repose.
Silent, I watch
as the dog curls into your side
nuzzling the last of night
beside you.
Shifting my weight, I rise,
turning to your form’s reflection,
barely perceptible in dawn’s
tenuous light.
I stand here watching
until color chimes its way
through the blinds,
urging your departure,
while I imprint morning’s mirror
in my mind.
Brenda Warren 2015
Today’s prompt asks for an aubade, a form that explores lovers’ morning farewells.
The sun dispelled night a ribbon at a time
announcing morning’s pleasure
its news like squirrels ran
across the wires
above my yard
with urgent chatter on.
The hills untied their bonnets
and sweetly spread their locks
for sister wind to breathe upon
dancing for the sun.
Brenda Warren 2015
The prompt was to take an Emily Dickinson poem, and tweak it into a poem of our own. This was not my favorite exercise, but I did it. Here’s a link to the Dickinson poem. A Day
Adventures in Poetry and Writing
brenda warren
Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
All students need a safe and caring school environment
Just another WordPress.com site
poetry by nicolas ryan brown.
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A Feminist Literary Collective (& outlaw poets swearing)
"What a strange bundle of consistent inconsistencies we all are." Mary Ronan
The weather and the light are just different out here...and sometimes you have to find the words for things.
My poetry is my religion.
Sunshine on Razor Wire: perspectives from "inside"
Be inspired...Be creative...Be peace...Be
a weekly flash fiction prompt inspired by google maps
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spiritual enlightenment and self improvement
undercaws 