The Shores of My Dreams

2008-11-01T17:19:00.001-05:00

Fault lines shimmer
awake
inside my head.

Earthquakes shudder
alive
things you’ve said.

Won’t you drown me in my
coffee?
So that I will never face

any more natural disaster
memories
ripping through my day.

2008-10-21T11:46:00.002-05:00

words dripping off my tongue
swirling round this
house

breaking glass is the sound
of truth pouring
down

down
down

beat the past
bury me

with the horror you can't believe

this was supposed to be a secret
this was supposed to be a secret
this was supposed to be a secret

"Don’t you know how to keep a secret?"

* this was written for Writer's Island. The prompt was controversial.

A Compulsion to Spill Words

2008-06-14T05:59:00.003-05:00

it's the fish that swims inside my viens
it's a rush from dancing near the flames
it's misery and it's regret
it's so I can remember, so I can forget

its ancient visions come back around
its water flowing under ground
its madness and it is pain
its summer snow and winter rain

its crawling underneath my skin
its breaking out and sneaking in
its glory and its release
it holds me captive, sets me free

its solid and it is hollow
its gone today but sought tommorow
it's muse and hunger and instinct
catch the tiger, slay the dream

muse, hunger and instinct
why I spill these words
all over me

2008-06-14T04:32:00.004-05:00

"I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely."

I was born to be lonely.
I'd wake and hear the cold- splintering, breaking-
and slowly I would rise and dress.

I was born to be lonely.
A child's blood so red,
fear the chronic anger of this house.

I was born to be lonely,
and watch light slowly close
against the yellow drawn shades.

I was born to be lonely,
dance naked grotesquely,
on water I'm not sure is there.

I was born to be lonely,
What did I know? What did I know?
But that's all right.

"I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely.
I am lonely, lonely."

I was born to be lonely.
But that's all right.

* This is a cento. That means this poem is comprised of lines from other poets works:
Danse Russe by William Carlos Williams
Those Winter Sundays by Robert Hayden
Whose Mouth Do I Speak With by Suzanne Rancourt
My Father's Hat by Mark Irwin
Father's Song by Gregory Orr

This was done for the site Patchwork Poetry.

Hollywoodland Hunger

2008-06-04T22:11:00.008-05:00

"Fame

is a fickle food.
Men eat of it and die."

Always the camera is angled so we look up
and nothing will come of our lovelock.

"Fame is a fickle food.
Men eat of it and die."

That lady with her garments on
is Life but is she Art?

"Fame is a fickle food.
Men eat of it and die."

Nothing! Nothing but air, thin air.....
"This," says the voice, "can be laid to the natural greed."

"Fame is a fickle food.
Men eat of it and die."

Men eat of it and die.
Food!
Just Food!
Just any old kind of food!

Dying to taste it. Take a slice-
only a pun for bread- seductive
visually, but you could starve.

"Fame is a fickle food
Men eat of it and

die."

This is a cento. None of the lines above are mine. The poems used were:
Running Away Together by Maxine W. Kumin
Video Cuisine by Maxine W. Kumin
Fame is a Fickle Food by Emily Dickerson
Ode to the Lemon by Pablo Neruda, translated by Jodey Bateman
Wonderbread by Alfred Corn
The Clean Platter by Ogden Nash.

The poems were suggested by Jilly Poet,Lissa, gautami tripathy, and Lirone. This was written for Patchwork Poetry.

Time and Time Again

2008-05-27T14:51:00.001-05:00

Fluttering lightly on the wings of
fate,
I duel with time.

We fight like lions over the reins
of my tattered life.

Time- a silent foe bent on thieving with its
greedy hands.

Yet my hands are far from clean-
volatile and mean, a dirty gleam
that shines.

Still I
long to clarify the blood beating in
my veins,
heal my shame,

a reversal of my fate.

God I pray
there is still time,
time,
time.

Swirl a fantasy like good wine
around my mouth:
precious peace will rise from the ruins
of this war.

But the devil wants his due,
and all my sins I fear
I’ll never lose...

still I fight.

Note- this poem was written for a challenge at Poets Who Blog. I had to incorporate these ten words:

time
precious
reversal
clarify
volatile
silently
fantasy
flutter
peace
bent

2008-05-23T02:14:00.000-05:00

a waterfall of
ashes
crash again my skin

hear me whisper softly
hallelujah
hallelujah

burnt remnants of
passion
leaves scars to mark my sins

pray now God will save me
hallelujah
hallelujah

pray its not too late to save me
hallelujah
hallelujah

2008-05-07T02:04:00.002-05:00

Here I stand
my hands empty

Here I stand
bereft of dreams

Here I stand
where you left me

Here I stand
breaking softly

This poem was written in response to a prompt at Poets Who Blog Interactive. This first line comes from the Leonard Cohen song I'm Your Man.

2008-05-06T22:29:00.004-05:00

The wind rushes in without an apology,
a storm arriving in winter hues.

You never knew me at all.

You who saw me thru hell's gates,
through the window
of the voices in my head,
through the closed curtains
of my
raw passion,
capturing the essence of life’s high noon.

Thought you knew the truth-
decoded into letters-
but what you knew
was only my
grandiose fantasies
or blatant out right lies.

Yesterday's melancholy song
still haunts.

The eager sun sneaks in bits of light
echoes of voices from afar.

All
these lonely days of blue
cut me with the bitter blades of what
you never knew. You never knew.

This is nearly a Patchwork Poem. It is composed mainly of donated lines from other poets but I had to add the lines

of my
still haunts
was only my
all.

Major thanks to Paisley, Lirone, and Lissa and Gautami Tripathy.

2008-05-01T12:42:00.000-05:00

bring me sunshine in a cup
bring me laughter in your hands
bring me hunger then fill me up
bring me lustful grains of sands
bring me teardrops you have shed
bring me fireflies trapped in glass
bring me reasons to stay in bed
bring me ransom from my past

This poem is in response to a by a prompt at
Poefusion.

with special thanks to Paisley who did the prompt first and reading her poem inspired me to write my own.

The first line comes from an Emily Dickerson poem of the same name.

2008-04-23T00:04:00.002-05:00

My heart knows a mystery old as life:

I have to save myself.
I have to save myself.
I have to save myself.

I know this much, my place
if I survive:

A life where hope outshines fears.
A life where hope outshines fears.
A life where hope outshines fears.

I tiptoe out of the room.
as if you were looking at me-

I have to save myself.
I have to save myself.
I have to save myself.

I leave you, my muse.
My excuse? I tore my own soul-
pushed the syringe.

Howling for help.
Howling for help.
Howling for help.

I have to save myself,
save myself,
save myself.

Note-This is a cento. Major thanks to Gautami Tripathy, Lissa, Mariacristina, Lirone, and Jilly Poet. If you would like to read more centos or like to learn how to write your own then visit Patchwork Poetry.

2008-04-15T12:58:00.004-05:00

you are
fingers stroking keys,
stroking
stroking hope into me
you are.

you are
sun on the horizon,
liquid for the soul
you are.

you are
prayers caressing my ears,
caressing
caressing away fears
you are.

you are
phenomenal fuel
that drives this dream,
gifting wisdom and belief
you are.

you are
angels driving demons,
driving
driving away demons called
disbelief.

oh yes, you are....oh yes, you are,
you are.

Note- this poem is a thank you to all the people who read this blog and anyone who has ever left a comment. It was written in honor of Blogger Reader Appreciation Day

2008-04-05T18:45:00.006-05:00

revolution.
revolution

human reaching out to human
lighting up store fronts and street vendors

revolution.
revolution

we were spinning hard and fast
and we cursed both god and man

revolution.
revolution.

the sound of voices sprang up with excitement
changing the colors of the city

revolution.
revolution.

crowds smothered the sidewalks
covering the hemisphere
as we walked the streets
tearing through barbed wire

revolution.
revolution.

everything suddenly moved in lighting speed
those bellowing beasts:
dream maker and dream

revolution.
revolution.

just starting a revolution.
just starting a revolution.

Thanks to paisley,mariacristina,lirone,
lissa who donated the lines above for me to use in this poem.

And major thanks to Patchwork Poetry for making this cento possible.

His Little Girl

2008-04-04T11:20:00.005-05:00

translucent memories
quiver
when I hear you speak

little earthquakes and
rivers
form inside my head

bringing down like buildings
falling
till I’m drowning but not dead

hear me mourning, morning I will be
calling
on my God to chase away the

translucent memories

Murder, my darling

2008-03-27T02:16:00.007-05:00

Bathe me in
my own expulsions,
my own contortions.
Words extorted.

I'll pay the price,
pay the tithe
for
stealing double portions of
this life.

Sympathize, won’t you?
This is all I know,
all I know,
all I know how to do.

Lay me in the words I’ve spewed.
Drown me in
a poem or two.

And I shall die like I have lived
gladly sinking in the words
I give
to you.

Drown me in a poem or two or two or two....

Escape

2008-03-27T02:03:00.004-05:00

Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust,
seeking out the darkest place, to better see the light.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile.

There isn't a place
in this world that doesn't
sooner or later
drown,

deep in flower and in flesh, in star and soil and seed,
and bitter wounds on fire.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile.

No one is sleeping in this world. No one, no one.
Deep, blue night
broken across it, and one eye is weeping
as it floats above everything.
Humans wrote the Bible
God wrote the sky.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile.

NOTE- Once again this is another patchwork poem. Each line comes from another poem. The poems used were Birches by Robert Frost, Poppies by Mary Oliver, The Word of God by Catherine Faber, and City That Does Not Sleep
by Federico García Lorca
Translated by Robert Bly.

Special thanks to Patchwork Poetryfor making this poem possible.

2008-03-11T10:56:00.005-05:00

Constrained,
oh I'm bound,
black bruised,
strapped down

mouth full of
lost dreams and
fear
fear
fear

slams me hard with its hands
while the walls do their dance
moving closer
they laugh

for this girl is trapped

trapped
trapped

2008-03-10T10:24:00.001-05:00

With your bitter, twisted lies
gathered around, you took my mouth,
weakened by my soulful cries,
and plunged it into your heart.

I am going to have it, you said.

Don't you take it awful hard
but you were always ambitious.

Did you want to see me broken?
Did my sexiness upset you?

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
that never ends.

Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise,
cursing holy blood at the table,
I rise,
whether or not you will make me immortal,
I rise.

You may write me down in history.

This poem does not contain any of my own words. It is a cento, patched together from these poems
Still I Rise by Maya Angelou
They Eat Out By Margaret Atwood
To Restore a Dead Child by Keith Douglas
As Children Together by Carolyn Forche

With special thanks to jillypoet, paisley, mariacristina and the patchwork poetry prompt site.

2008-03-02T15:20:00.009-06:00

Janet Leigh tagged me for a six words memoir meme.

Fragile, broken, haunted. She spills words.

I tag Penelope, Marie,Stacey,Endi, and Soarise.

Here are your instructions:
Write your own six-word memoir.
Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
Tag 5 more blogs with links.
And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.

By the way, this is inspired by Ernest Hemingway's famous six word story For Sale: baby shoes, never worn.

The E award

2008-03-02T15:07:00.004-06:00

Marie, who pens fantastic tales about vampires and blogs at Deep Thinker, has given be an E for Excellence Award.

I have to pass it on to ten bloggers. I choose to honor:
Soarise
Adrian

Susan

Janet Leigh

Wandering Author

Stories of True Love

Robin

Anna

Stacey

Audrey

2008-02-28T19:08:00.002-06:00

Despair is a hunter

fueled by the scent
of giving up
and giving in

that rises in the air
when hope has gone.

Despair has a hunger

opened mouth
it reaches in

slides into the spaces
where life should be found.

Despair came to find me

calling softly,
like a lover,

like a lover who was better
than having no one
at all.

And I should have fought him,
fought him harder than
I did,

but despair feels like home
when despair is all

there is.

Despair is a hunter...

and I am its prey.

Silent Screaming

2008-02-26T01:07:00.010-06:00

Why don’t you just scream?
Scream if you have to.
Scream and prove you are still alive.

Your silence stifles me,

leaves me hanging,
grasping old photographs,
bitter and mute.

Looking like
the angry one to your unaffected eyes.

Smiling your deception at me
cause you’re just fine.

Fine.
Fine.
Fine.

It’s either fable or truth
and that’s based on your perception.

You who is

so happy to live your happy
little lie.

While
silently I feel us die.

I am figthing for love

but you can’t be bothered to
decide
if you even
have a thing left to say.

You move through this play
we are now pretending is
Our Good Life
like the man you think you should be.

Some picture you saw once in a magazine.
Stiff upper lip, tense manly pride.

Does that leave you satisfied?

It leaves me lacking,
after years apart from you
while you were standing right here

two feet away in our cozy kitchen

cooking up

heart hardening lies.

Words unspoken still sting.

I’ve heard everything you never said to me.
I’d rather that you would just open your mouth and

scream.

Note-

My work process for the poem posted above. It is a creation born from Patchwork Poetry.

First I found a line at Words that Sing. That inspired the whole poem. I then looked through the other poems donated and found more lines I could fit it. i was very tempted to change one word in one line but that is against the rules. Can you guess which word.

Anyway,the picture of this battle weary, stony couple formed in my mind as I wrote out the wife's inner duel between anger and anguish.

Thanks to lirone, scott, jillypoet, mariacristina and paisley for donating lines.

Spun

2008-02-18T17:04:00.006-06:00

The oceans of time turn unafraid
of all my
futile rage.

And if I screamed out secrets,
purging my soul.
Would anyone notice

or care?

This world spins on,
like I'm not even here.

Note- This was written for Poets Who Blog Interactive Grab and Go poetry post. The darkened line is courtesy of the Random Line Generator at Poets Online.

Univited

2008-02-14T16:03:00.004-06:00

You throw your love at me like firecrackers
sparkling into thousands of pieces,
imbued with absolutions,

and just expect me to grasp
at flames.

To bless your sacred name
like you were my savior

from sin.

Did I ever ask for saving?

Should I fall upon my knees
and give thanks,
long after you burned me now
you grant
you grant
you grant

your love.

You might think it’s a deep, deep well
any woman would be lucky to
fall in.

Not looking for a chance to swim
back into your embrace.
Not hoping you can be the one
who saves

me,

not willing to be burned or scarred.

Can’t make love out of two scorched hearts.

Note- This poem was written for Patchwork Poetry with lines donated by these poets:

mariacristina,just paisley and jilly poet.

Thanks for the inspiration.

2008-02-08T18:07:00.001-06:00

shatter me like shells
strewn upon the beach
underneath your feet

shatter me like china
hanging on the wall,
like sun breaking nightfall

shatter me like hope
resting in a chest
another thing you left

shatter me
hard and quick and good
shatter me
shatter me
there was never a question you would.

Steady hands

2008-02-08T12:55:00.000-06:00

tethered to my past
bound by its grip
and everything I've ever lost-
uneasy to forget.

why don't you come across
this water now,
for you know that I am sick.
need your help in this crossing now-
a reason to exist.

steady hands in hurricanes,

you always had a way
of making the awful seem
lovely-
crazy seem sane.

broken birds are innocent,
innocent they say.
and every sin will be forgiven
if you only pray.

so won't you

brush me your steady hands,
wash this anger
off my back.

keep me floating in the water,

and
make up
for all I lack.

make up for all I lack.
take me in your steady hands.

2008-02-04T02:59:00.000-06:00

There is this second that you own.
Though most would waste it, heaven knows.
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

For sins we later can atone-
washed clean, like water off a rose.
There is this second that you own

Buck hard against the buffer zone;
rage like wild fire on the status quo.
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

Ride the world like a cyclone.
Leave not a breath for regrets to grow.
There is this second that you own.

Blink twice, the pages have all flown
off the calendar, fate cruelly exposed.
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

Hope dies quick when postponed.
Dreams give in to the death throes.
There is this second that you own
Breathe deeply before God calls you home.

Note- This is my first attempt to write a villanelle.

2008-01-26T17:02:00.000-06:00

Qualcosa di bello from Write Away was nice enough to give me a

Roar for Powerful Words Award.

Part of receiving this is that I must list three things I believe is necessary to make writing good and powerful.

Be fearless in your creating- Do not hold back because your mother, spouse, boss or best friend might read it and judge you. Write your truth. Delve your deepest emotions and infuse your work with the essence of them.

Be vicious with your editing- Each word should be on the page for a reason. It should help to paint your picture, to tell your story. I always say that each word should be put on trial for its life. Each word must carry the reader forward, never letting them lose their focus or way.

Keep working on it till you love it- The words should wash over you like a song, whether it is poetry or fiction. They should flow like a rushing river that transcends the every day world. If you can fall in love with your work, then it will be good and powerful for you, and maybe for the rest of the world too.

I must pass this award on to five bloggers whose work I admire:

Marie at Deep Thinker
Penelope from Cafe at the End of the Universe
JM from Fallen Words
Shakir at The Crimsonflaw Lived to Tell the Tale
Rax at Soul Phantasm

2008-01-26T09:24:00.000-06:00

A curse
he harbored within his soul-
secrets making that
young man
old

before his time.

Deny,
deny,
deny.

Till the acid of those lies
bled
like internal sores and his mouth
could deny
no more.

He slammed
bricks of truth
on the wood floor.

***The last sentence comes from Mariacristina, who donated it at Poets Who Blog Interactive.
Feel free to stop by and take part in our poetry prompts there.

Beloved

2008-01-19T18:13:00.000-06:00

Wipe the snow off your grave,
trace
my finger over your name.

I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...

Press the roses that you gave,
stroke
the memories like a flame.

I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...

You're every glint that’s in my mirror,
You're every shadow on my wall.

In every breeze
I'm sure I hear you.

I’m dancing with the ghost that you are.

I do this in remembrance...
I do this in remembrance...
I do this....

NOTE- This was written for Poets Who Blog Interactive’s Pick and Pull Prompt.

2008-01-09T01:02:00.000-06:00

....and in the end,
it falls the same.

one breath
left.

one blink remains.

the best to
hope for,

all things the same,

your hand to hold

as I
drift away.

Note- This was written for Poets Who Blogs. The prompt was Comfort.

2008-01-05T02:06:00.000-06:00

Its
running fast into the wind.

And its
swimming far away from shore.

It's
swinging hard at fragile glass,
kicking down steel doors!

Riding out all my fears
while I spill these words,
spill these sins,

see my blood
stain my skin.

Cut me open-
watch
the world crawl right in.

Make no apology for who I am-

This
is what it is,
this is what
it is.

Note- This poem was written for the Poets Who Blog prompt: What Poetry Means to Me.It describes how it feels like to me to create a poem, which at its purest forms is, imo, putting the rawest part of you on display for the world to see.

2007-12-26T23:14:00.000-06:00

Reflections dance upon the grave

where I lay
every molecule of pain
you ever gave
to me.

Bitterness

shimmers in the
dying rays
of the sunset

on the
darkest day
of winter this year.

Crows cry in the rain
as all you ever gave
all you ever gave
dies and withers away
away
away

2007-12-07T13:05:00.000-06:00

Glistening silver
falls from the skyline
coating my world
with ice,

leaving me aching,
shivering craving
fiery nights

gone by.

2007-11-27T10:12:00.001-06:00

with eyes closed

I feel you

sink your teeth into my
soul-

you've made a meal of me.

Written for Read Write Poem

Inside Out

2007-11-15T14:06:00.000-06:00

She spends her time in fallout shelters in her mind, can't run far enough.

Putting pen to page -this life- making beauty out of nothing at all.

These poems are an attempt at writing American Sentences for a prompt at

2007-11-12T09:44:00.000-06:00

A hand reaching through the fire-
take me in
and shield my soul.

The world around us is dying,
but with
you here

I would never
know.

*written for the prompt Friendship at Writer's Island

Still, Still, Still

2007-11-04T13:42:00.000-06:00

Centuries later and
still

I write poems inspired by you
still

cause I am

a silly, silly girl,

your sinful lonely girl......

still

2007-10-31T11:57:00.000-05:00

what can I do now?
you’re gone

you are gone
from my side

the seat besides me stays empty
the bed grows cold
frozen
untouched

and nothing else
I do
will ever be enough
to fill this space

it’d be so much easier if I could just not think
not think
but I do,
I do

and this is all my fault
you’re gone,
gone

By Sara
written October 8th,2006.

Poetry Tag

2007-10-24T11:35:00.000-05:00

I was at Poets Who Blog when I saw this post:

It's a game of poetry tag. Be the first to post TAG in the comments. Then take these lines and add one, in a post on your own blog, along with these instructions. Whoever adds the nineteenth line then takes the poem to Poets Who Blog at http://poetswhoblog.blogspot.com/ and puts the whole poem in the comment section there. Each person who plays need to also mention what site you were at when you found the poem so that other bloggers can follow the breadcrumbs back to this poem. You can play more than once but not twice in a row.

Poetry Tag Poem

The sound shook his bones
like a cymbal

My line is the second one. Tag me and you can be the person who writes the third line.

2007-10-22T11:09:00.001-05:00

teetering precariously,

this
heart in me
clings to your confession-
my water in the desert,
my oxygen on the moon.

who could have known?
who knew?

mere breaths from dying
and then there was

you.

2007-10-21T11:15:00.000-05:00

You weakness sickens me.
Such a pretty girl
wasted.

The lines in your face
aging
away your youth every second.

How do you stand it?
Can't you feel the air getting thin?
Time giving in?

Next year, next year....

I promise the face in my mirror.

I will do better next year.

when you are eighteen, you think like this.

2007-10-02T00:57:00.000-05:00

you brought me to the edge of free-
a tattered soul,
incomplete-

and for your price you asked for
absolution.

it wasn’t much.
it wasn’t hard.
you were a floating vagabond
who prayed that I could be your

solution.

I was spinning- hard and fast-
against myself,
against my past,
but somehow you....

you never knew it.

young
free
you
me

just starting a revolution.

revolution.
revolution.

Times were good but we.....we never knew it.

By Sara Pufahl with thanks to Rob and The Writer's Island for the prompt: The Journey.

If I....

2007-09-17T23:39:00.000-05:00

bereft of power
I approach you,
eager to please.

like a child
I long for you-
unconditionally.

stripped
of all my defenses
down upon my
knees

I lay my sacrifice before you
and in a gesture
I

concede.

Faithfully

2007-09-07T21:43:00.000-05:00

Disappointment flows
like
muddy water through my viens-

running thick and cold-

full of all the
things
everybody knows;
nobody's gonna
say.

Maybe if I could change (change)
get rid of all this rage (rage)

everyday day day day
day
day

wouldn't be the same same same

same

same.

Suicide

2007-07-26T16:22:00.000-05:00

You found me standing on the bluffs.
hollowed eyed, bemoaning lust-
and all that it had done
to undo me.

It left me gasping shallow air,
choking on sins and despair-
far from the girl
you once knew
as me.

Your greedy hands
they brought me
down.

Oh, what a shame,
I loved the
fall-

and in your name I did it all.

Look what
I have done to me, to me, to me.

Look what I have done to...
me.

Look what I have....

2007-06-29T09:22:00.000-05:00

Waking in the moonlight,
she's
went and lost her will to fight,
doesn't have the strength-

not anymore.

Stumbling down dark sidewalks
wondering where the times gone-
used to be
days to waste-

not anymore.

Well they never told her about this
back when she was
innocent.

Filled her head with fairytales
so somehow she expected more.

She expected more.
She expected more

than living under streetlights,
lying her own head off,
everythings a compromise,

life was supposed to be more,
supposed to be more, supposed to be....

its dark now and she's weary,
best to just keep moving,
don't think about it,
don't crave

more.

Twisted

2007-06-14T11:27:00.000-05:00

Like liquor tumbles over ice
in a chilled glass,
that was your laugh.

And how it danced right over
my spine

every time
you thought you knew me better,

knew me better,
than I know me.

your insincerity
is startling.

your veneer is cracked.
and still you laugh,

you laugh,
you laugh,

and still I take you back,
back
back

like ice scraping against glass, glass, glass.

2007-05-25T09:50:00.001-05:00

Like a desert who longs for a flood,
you come over me with fingers scorching from the sun
that has beat you down

and this life
they saddled you with, you say
it just ain't right
ain't right

nothing should be so hard
but, boy,

we all got scars and rivers that are running dry
inside,

as the news sells all those lies.

It just ain't right
ain't right

you can say it again a couple hundred times
repeat it like a flashing sign

shout it from that mirage of a mountaintop
where you stay

left me lonely but its you
who will say

It just ain't right
ain't right

its not going to rain in the desert tonight
your touch has gone to ground

you're lost
never come around
no more

weary from your cracked life

it's so unfair and you just can't survive
you know that just ain't right
ain't right
ain't right

2007-05-13T02:58:00.000-05:00

I broke my heart,
broke my heart
for you.

Look at the things I would do
just to help you.

I broke the wall,
fell right on through,
into a well for you-

only wanted to help you.

I twisted the laws,
made lies true,
made lies do,

just to help you.

I broke my heart,
broke my heart for you.

You never saw the bruise-
such a cost to help you.

Look at what
what
what
I would do, what I would do-

yet

it never helped

you.

I could never help you. I broke my heart...

2007-04-29T00:01:00.001-05:00

Even avalanches couldn't stifle
her.

mouth wide open

stealing all the air in the room-
leaving nothing left

clean.

Like dirty, dirty, dirty

running water, red and cold.

She was forever painfully bold,
bone twistingly brave

was she.

and all her lies you could not help but believe,
believe, believe....

snow can't bury everything.

2007-04-26T08:59:00.001-05:00

adept at stifling sonic booms

to make sure
I break down;
I never do break through.

don't call it constant drama
no, you never knew-

you never knew me at all.

sabotage my own
grandiose fantasies.

take a knife to
stab away reality.

cut you with the bitter blades of what
I'll never be.

you never knew,
you never knew me-
at all.

Trip over this news,
fall down the stairs.

Didn't catch a clue
till you were in midair.

Thought you knew the truth
but what you knew
was never really there.

You never knew. You never knew
me
at all.

2007-04-15T18:50:00.000-05:00

don’t fight it-
this mudslide of swollen dreams

that whisks you toward the grave.
don’t say its

more than you can take
just take it-

over your skin, smooth like gin,
in a glass that is black

so you can’t see a thing
till it’s all too late.

flesh pressed against
the gate

foolish

hopes drip away,
gurgling down the
drain.

used to think
you would die if it all
turned out this way.

Then it did.

2007-04-10T12:53:00.000-05:00

Under endless skies, she wore white
and danced with hips
that sighed

and slid, and smoothed their way to
unheard beats-

beneath the thumping Mexican heat,
he found her

withering there.

And was it fair? No, it was not fair.
But what? What?

What in life ever was? What dream would come?

For them the answer was none, none, none, and

simply never.

She had always belonged to someone else and she would forever.

Note- This poem was written for Poetry Thursday. The first line comes from Brian at Truth is Freedom

The W's

2007-04-01T21:20:00.001-05:00

When all the sand in the hourglass
slips
like wine squeezed from the fruit of time

and what I thought I would one day be
becomes
what I never quite could find,

who shall I seek?
where shall I search?

who cleans up messes when everything hurts?

If the broken break under a moonless sky
does
God still see the tears they cry?

Just whisper to me the cure-
who,what, where,
why, why, why
did time run out and I was still chasing my ghost of a life,

just chasing ghosts, and catching nothing, nothing
every time.

Note-This was written for Poetry Thursday’s April 1st prompt: absolve
My idea was to describe a person who seeks forgiveness for wasting their life but who can give that forgiveness and what would it look like?

Beautiful Madness

2007-03-29T09:23:00.000-05:00

twin hues of
green and blue
light and pain
align in the portrait she paints,
a lovely bitter face.

And she wonders....

is it a symptom of madness

to find such beauty swirling

around all that
sadness?

Note- The picture comes from Write Words Writing Club

2007-03-18T23:16:00.000-05:00

see me in the chipped paint.

smell me in the dirt, the dust, the musky smell of
rot-
in this place that time forgot.

You loved me not.
For you ran out, and ditched me on the side of this dirt road
long, long,
before
the end of breath in me.

Feel me in the breeze,
haunted angry screams rip through
the trees

yelling about lust, discarded dreams and us-
yelling about trust, discarded dreams and us.

Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday. The idea was to write a poem inspired by a picture of your own choosing.

My photo came from here,
a site with pictures that are in the public domain.

The artist who took it is named Clarita

2007-03-14T14:06:00.001-05:00

you hold your image of me
in your hand
like water

fluid

leaving me shivering
biding my time
till you open your hands

and let me flow away

Sabrage

2007-03-13T14:57:00.000-05:00

a
cacophony
of high low rumbles
jumble
through the grey light matter

forming a seeming contradiction.

"Don’t say this is true,
let it be fiction," unspoken dry mouthed words you say,
clutching hands you pray, pray, pray.

The Desert With No Rain grows a tree of knowledge
and you

see the carnage, see the carnage,see the carnage

and know the truth.

Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday. The idea was to take a word and make your own definition for it. My idea was to make Sabrage describe the moment when your mind reacts to finding out about a life changing secret. Grey light matter is supposed to be your brain.

Sabrage, in actuality, describes the technique that is employed when a saber is used to open a wine bottle.

Wikipedia defines Sabrage

Blue Green Colors Flashing

2007-03-11T01:05:00.000-06:00

You are a blue green goddess that
floats

You are the jagged, twisted face of
hope

You are hanging in the air, close to
God

could you touch him if you tried?
could you pray for me tonight?

whisper in the wind and make it all
alright

all right to be just who I am.
all right to not give up my sin.
all right to cry most every night.
all right to be too weak to fight.

You are the blue green, jagged twisted
beauty uplifted, far away yet home,

goddess that floats.

Note_ Title comes from a Stevie Nicks song.

This was written for a challenge at
Write Words Writing Club

God Made Red

2007-03-06T21:46:00.000-06:00

Hot as city sidewalks
on the last day of July.

It looks just like death
and bleeds just like life.

The color of kisses,and broken
skin, and lies.

The color of rage
exploding behind your eyes.

Looking like the
inside of a volcano’s belly,

roaring like a dragon that’s hungry.

It’s a hue that keeps coming, coming, coming,
suck you in
and
take you deep inside,
get you hot, hard, and ready
til it’s banging in your head, head, head,

and all you hear is

red red red red

Red.

Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday. The prompt was Red, which happens to be my favorite color. I thought of doing a poem that was less literal but I wanted to do something was a tribute to the color. For years just the sight of it is enough to bring a smile to my lips.

The Beauty Within

2007-02-27T12:37:00.000-06:00

With fluid lines that flow like glass
and subtle curves that glide and mask
your shrouded secrets that sound
like the past

from which the world began.

Blue white foam
roars through your vessel
coming home
rolling until it lessens
again and then again and again and

again

whispering about dreams of sand.

Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday. The idea was to write a poem that describes something beautiful without revealing what the subject matter was. Check the comments to see the answer to the object this poem describes.

Poetry Carnival Poets

2007-02-17T14:12:00.000-06:00

To love creating poetry is to love showing your soul to the world. These poets have shared parts of themselves with the world at large, through their poems. Read and enjoy:

Delaleuverse, a blog from Cathy
What Sister Thinks

A Doggy’s Life, featuring the work of Dogfaceboy.
Factors

Square Traveler
Later Days

Wm. Rike’s blog Arcane Matter Out Of Time
Teen Angst Remembered

CrimsonFlaw who maintains a set of three blogs maintained on the moods that constitute different
pangs of supposed creativity
book of the unrequited

Mad Kane's Humor Blog
Those &^%$#$% Auditions

Kilroy_60 at Fear and Loathing- The Gonzo Papers
Finding My Rhyme in Time

Rax’s blog, SOUL'S PHANTASM
Chasing the Equal Sign

Kevin who blogs at Acoustics, Health & Sufism
It’s like being connected to an ocean

KGT’s blog is called When I Wax
Hoary

Ron Russo at Just Be!
I wrote a poem once

Tiel Aisha Ansari who showcases her poetry at Knocking From the Inside Out
Twenty Years Ago, Yesterday

Katy from SomethingKaty
my golden right

Brain from Truth is Freedom
Cold -a poem that relates to our ongoing struggle between all of our selves.

Billy Jones
Dreams Lost Along The Way Home

Naomi Stevens blog, A Dairy from England
Life
Life

Jillbeth who displays her work at her blog called The Broken Cup: Christian Poetry
Sacrament

Hope you will take this chance to visit all the poets listed.

If you submitted by Feb 14th and do not see your blog here let me know.

There is another poetry carnival coming up. This one will be hosted by the link exchange site I run,
Poets Who Blog

If you want to take part, submit by Feb 23rd to IlovetowriteSMP@yahoo.com

Thank you

Cell Memory

2007-02-11T03:04:00.000-06:00

A bone remembers a break
a tongue remembers a burn
skin remembers the cut
and still I never learn

the pieces of me know

but keep it
from
the whole

the parts of me do make
a mismatched
crazy shaped

crooked girl

a mouth recalls a kiss
a scar recalls a burn
skin recalls the slice

and still I never learn
I never learn

Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday. The prompt was: The body knows...

A Dark Chase

2007-02-08T11:21:00.000-06:00

It matters....
he was....

my first man,
drifting in and out of the shadows
through darkened parking lots I
sought him,
chased his bitter soul down
down
down
the maze his twisted mind made

He never knew how I craved
simple, normal things.
He was broken and then he
broke me.

And though I learned
to trace every crack in his
psyche
and his every stain became my own
he remained aloof
an empty man,
hollowed in all the places
I needed to find solace.
and soon I was too.

But
It doesn’t matter....
he did it....
no, he didn’t....
change it all to suit me now
my first man wasn’t anything like that.

Note- This is my Poetry Thursday contribution. The theme this week was change. I wasn't feeling inspired to write something new ( this has been a pretty down week for me) so I posted this poem that speaks of changing memories.

A Trivial Soultion

2007-01-31T09:14:00.001-06:00

a trivial solution
lacking common sense
lacking any value
you give it no merit.

you give me no merit.
you laugh with
daggers in your eyes.

and all those times I longed to
make you see me,
wither

into fragments

of broken memories.

turning to
ashes,

turning while you are laughing,

laughing, laughing

all the while.

Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday. The prompt was to use a mathematical term to inspire a poem. If you knew me, you would know, how ironic it is that math could inspire anything but loathing in me.

Here is an explanation of the term I used

Trivial

Poetry Carnival

2007-01-29T10:01:00.000-06:00

Would you like to find more readers for your Poetry blog?

In the spirit of meeting new poets and getting exposure for as many blogs as possible, this site will be hosting a Poetry Carnival.

The idea is to send in a entry with a link to your personal favorite poem on your blog.

I will list all of these links on February 17th. The deadline to submit is February 14th.

The Rules:

1. Submit one post from your poetry blog.

2. The poem must be in English.

3. Send your submissions to IlovetowriteSMP@yahoo.com

Each post should include:

The name of your blog.

Your blog's URL.

The name of the post and it's corresponding URL.

Your screen name.

This idea was suggested by Kilroy at

Fear and Loathing

Check out his blog for an interesting read. Right now he is running a Blog Carnival that aims to promote any type of blog. Jump in and take part!

I write therefore...

2007-01-25T10:00:00.000-06:00

I love you, poetry, because you are mine. You belong to me like my breath, my blood, my bones. I adore the way you flow, a river over cold smooth stones, and how you dip and drop ten thousand miles to the ground you fall, fall, fall, letters flying through the sky. Words shooting through the night, and when the right one finds me, I breathe and come to life. Poetry, my goddess laying down to be adored, I love you for what you give: these words prove that I lived.

Note- This was written for Poetry Thursday.

All Poets Invited to Connect

2007-01-21T19:15:00.000-06:00

I have started a new project. The aim is to grow a community of poets who will read, comment, link and support each other's efforts. Will you lend your help?

http://poetswhoblog.blogspot.com/

I wanted to say thank you to Billy the Blogging Poet for this

http://bp411.blogspot.com/2007/01/sara-pufahl.html

He is working tirelessy to promote poets who post their work online. Check out his site at

http://bloggingpoet.squarespace.com/

She

2007-01-21T19:11:00.002-06:00

She moves with an air
of
unbearable sadness,
and limbs heavy as

thousand year old tree branches.

She is unclaimed,
unforgiven,
not chosen,
not living.

She lays on clean, white sheets
in a cool, dark room
and drifts off to

sleep
away

what was supposed to be her

life.

A Grave Thing

2007-01-15T16:58:00.000-06:00

Gravity wraps me in greedy arms,
pulling me under the tide
drowning me in the waters
of my own
damn pride

you always had to be right
you always had to be right
you always had to be right

and I can hear you now,
beneath this bitter slice of moon,
as you croon
your
lullaby

and it goes

you always had to be right
you always had to be right
you always had to be right

it ricochets off the walls of the night
you always had to be right

NOTE- This poem was written to take part in Poetry Thursday. The first line comes from Deb R.

You can find her poem at
http://debrichardson.com/blog/2006/08/03/poetry-thursday-inspired-by-song/

Many thanks to her for the inspiriation.

My hands are tied

2007-01-08T12:12:00.000-06:00

strings latch my limbs,
tying me in knots,
making what I am not

all that matters

sentences you say,
can not change a thing,
can not make the truth

all that matters

dizzy lost time,
tugs the course of my life
till what I want to deny is

all that matters

and all that matters is....

my hands are tied

NOTE- this poem is inspired by a post at Poetry Thursday. This is my first time responding to one of their prompts so I hope it was done in the way the poster intended.

A beautiful bride?

2007-01-08T10:10:00.000-06:00

she only wanted simple things
to grab her slice of the American dream

like her mama
and the ones before
before, before

she only wanted to walk home
and in her door
to smiling faces on bodies two feet tall

and each night fall
to sleep
in arms that would hold her steady,
steady, steady

she only wanted simple things
to get a slice of the American Dream

but he left
like the ones before,
before, before....

and simple slipped through her fingertips
once more, once....

like before, before, before.

Fade to Blue

2007-01-05T07:16:00.000-06:00

It started with an explosion,a flash of light killing blue,
and soon the whole damn world knew

it was the end... of time.

And so I rushed, ran through the streets, ran wild as the toxic breeze,
to get back to your side.

Without surprise you reached for me, as if you always knew, as if this was just a script-
the last scene coming true.

The minute stretched, and yes oh yes that minute was divine, then the sun turned coal, and we.. and earth.. and love... all ran out of time.

NOTE- This work is part of an excercise at New Writers and Readers Blog. There is a link to the group in the sidebar.

Murder Your Darlings

2007-01-01T00:56:00.000-06:00

this isn’t the kind of thing you can get in
or out of
without blood on your hands,

without
stealing breaths, without regrets, without
paying.

don’t get in this trade and think you can
stay clean.
it’s not that kind of thing.

it's
soul spilling

and someone always gets

hurt.

You say "Stay."

2006-12-30T20:12:00.000-06:00

when the day comes and the angels sing,
it’s to the memory of you
I’ll cling

and when the time
runs down to nil
and when the seconds come to still
and when I lose everything, and I will
I will...

inside of me you’ll stay.

In secret chambers in my heart,
and all of my past
lives..

in the places where I hide,

in the moment that I die

you're there in everything, to you I cling
I cling
and with you I

stay

http://www.lyricsdomain.com/12/lisa_loeb/stay.html

The title comes from a Lisa Loeb song

Remember Me

2006-12-27T11:06:00.001-06:00

when you think
about that girl
whose gone

and when you muse
on her
memory that
hangs around and
lingers on

I hope you think of
peace and love and grace

a million tender things,
and
moments that live forever...

Then
I hope you smile

when you remember

Standing on Burning Ground

2006-12-27T10:44:00.000-06:00

Long after the last tear has fallen,
I watch as you stroll away
and all I can think

"This is gonna kill. This is gonna break me down."

This is the kind of sin that burns the ground.
The sun is gonna fall and crush me dead.
End this now,
now
now.

Stop my heart.
God, take me out.

End this now,
now,
now.

2006-12-19T07:52:00.000-06:00

The time was September, years ago.

The town was Chicago. Though, it could have been
Houston or Detroit-

gritty and urban, wholesome, home.

The dawn was just breaking. The sun
made a sound,
like fingers
untwining
and dreams lying down.

We walked through the station,
silent and stout.

Our eyes told the story, for our
words had died out...

The train came early, a beast without
care, a steel monster jerking, then burning
the air, then leaving me looking, then you just weren’t there
anymore...

“Once you love, you can never lose..."

"Really? You think that's true?"

You swore it was that day.

That beautiful morning,
that ugly ache,
when
you left and I
remained.

And I remain, still, stung by the day

when
my first taste of freedom
rode away on the
train.

Dark Side of the Moon

2006-12-18T10:24:00.000-06:00

Never saw
that curve coming....

Like
a blind man who makes his home
on the
Dark Side of the Moon

and yet
never wants for a thing,

I never wanted to see the truth.

Cause I loved my myopic vision,
reveled in my foolishness,
and built a world strong as sand castles
blowing in the wind.

And if you ever asked me, even now,
"Did that revelation lead to a beautiful sunrise?"

I'd say, "Me? I don't need all that
light. Curve me back around,
give back the night."

Never saw that curve coming...

Her Attitude

2006-12-14T12:46:00.000-06:00

You jut your chin out at me,cut your eyes.

Cunningly, you measure me
and I surmise

you've had your fill of taking it,
you've had your share of crime.

And all the sweetest in you
has curled up and died...

You never say the words, I hear them all the same.

This new attitude of yours,

it
burns.

And I,

I feel your rage.

NOTE-This was written in response to a challenge at the New Writers and Readers Welcome blog. Check it out and think of joining if you are a poet.

Once Upon a December

2006-12-14T09:40:00.000-06:00

this world’s turned around
ten thousand times or more

since last that I saw...
since last that I was

yours

this world’s spinning fast
it’s ricocheting me away

and soon I’ll be so far gone
the past will be a haze

a haze of blue and gold
a blur of green and gray
a place I always go
the place you always

stay...

the world's turned around
now I am the only one who knows

the last time I saw
the last time I was

yours.

NOTE- the title comes from a song by Deana Carter.

Meet me where I am

2006-12-11T22:04:00.000-06:00

stop these tears.

make all I feel
come to an end.

make all I know
as the truth
bend

and meet me where I am

and save me from the fall

take the pain
the ache
the loss

take me out...

take it all
away

take it all away

2006-12-09T06:27:00.000-06:00

how do you stand

when what you have done
strikes you down,

like a bullet fired from a gun?

and all you are not
is overwhelming,
stunning,

taking your breath away-the spirit fades...

such a long terrifying fall from grace

the have becoming have not
the giver becoming the spent
the girl becoming more and still feeling less, always less...

the life, twisted like white sheets billowing on a line
the love, the one, the time

all lost to the hurricane
that you caused

how do you stand,
raise up from the wreck,

when what you have done

exploded
your world,

like bullet from a gun?

Part of New Writers and Readers

2006-12-06T11:55:00.000-06:00

tumbling down one thousand stairs,

like a doll I fall,

like a toy a child has tossed,

like a love a boy has lost,

you did lose me, you know?

you did, you did, so easily again...

the blood, the scars, still show the sin

of the last time you let go

falling, falling, and never hitting the floor.

NOTE FROM SARA- this poem was created as part of a challenge posed at the blog, New Writers and Readers.

2006-12-06T10:17:00.000-06:00

"How are you doing lately?"

"Just miming away my life. Pushing up
against these invisble walls that shrink
my world small, so small. Trapped
in the frame of an old photograph,
where all my edges are frayed, aged,
a little worn with time. But time,
time don't mean a thing. Not to someone
like me."

And if I was a different sort of girl, like the one
you used to know, I might say all that and more,
much more.

But she is gone,
and in her place is the one
who smiles, drops her eyes,
lets the truth fall between the lines.

"How are you doing lately?"

"Fine...fine."

Endless Well

2006-12-04T03:06:00.000-06:00

I don’t mean to scare you
with
my eyes

Don’t mean to chase you away

just because
I need too much.

An endless well.

Just give what you can....
and we’ll pretend that’s enough

A pretty girl

2006-11-29T09:19:00.000-06:00

a tragic smile decorates
her otherwise
pretty face

a pretty girl
she could have been
could have been...

But knowledge slit her like a sword

open, end to end
exposed

and all her heat grew cold, so cold
and yet......

yet

except for the
telling smile

she shows the world

she could have been.... a pretty girl

The Last Remains

2006-11-29T09:13:00.001-06:00

Turn away your eyes,
leave me here with this
sweet sorrow

And I will clutch at the last

remains...

For this dream’s
come undone

Another discarded deserted one
A broken down disgrace

But

I can’t turn away my eyes
So I will
lay here beside

the last remains
our last remains...

For it isn’t over, no it is not over,
It is not over until

I say so

Underground Sanctuary

2006-11-17T09:48:00.000-06:00

her fingernails bear the mark
earth packed down to her skin
from where she has clawed
scraped, dug
this hole...

she lives within
it’s misery
beneath the ground

it’s a sanctuary
where she conceals...

what others should never know about.

she breathes in dank
dirt, death.

she won’t crawl out,
quite yet,
for the pain still resonates.

it thumps, runs through her like a fire
burning ever brighter.
it thrives.

and here in her Land of Dark
she dies,
dies, dies

rips at the ground to cover herself
and prays....

to be
buried alive...

Begging

2006-11-17T09:44:00.000-06:00

I want to touch you
on a shore, kissed by the sun.

I want to touch you
in the center, where your past lays.

I want to touch you
in the depths- of your bitter soul.

Let me know you...
a fraction of your days.

give me moments
give me moments
give me more

give me glimpses
give me seconds
give your touch

give me this
give me time
give me us

give me moments
give me glimpses
give me...

love.

An Internal Open Wound

2006-11-14T11:12:00.000-06:00

I’m dying
right here, now,

in front of his eyes but

unnoticed by him.

he can’t see the wounds

bleeding away pieces... of... me...

death
would be merciful but
he insists “no one gets out of this that easy.”

a heaviness passes through the air
and I start to believe
even ghosts can’t break free
of him.

He can’t escape himself
so why, his illogical mind declares, why should I?

Sinking Floating Surrender

2006-11-07T09:28:00.000-06:00

October 26, 2006

let me sink
in this sea
of words that call me home

let me fall
into a swirling blue mist
and never see the surface again
breathe in the essence of Shakespeare,
Emma, fire and ice

and drown in my own expressions
loving, loving, loving
this falling without effort

yet, never reaching the ocean floor

living now, then, forever
a sinking floating
surrender
among the words that I
adore

Something Sweet

2006-10-31T13:33:00.000-06:00

Fall off of the
ledge,
so effortlessly.

Drift down to the
earth,
swaying soft like a leaf.

And the crash will never come,
if you only

believe,

you could always fall on me,
fall on me.

Thoughts from May

2006-10-31T13:29:00.000-06:00

I am shame ridden. I was made better than this.
And when you reach the depths of this kind of
disappointment it can’t be healed with a touch, a word, a kiss.

Psyche of a Writer

2006-10-25T13:20:00.000-05:00

"Words are power."

I crave
the ability to take these
pieces of fury
and shape them,

hold them down,
mold them around into
what I decree,

control the temper, the flame,
curve their cadence to my own
refrain,

whip, shake, fling them at the world
string them like a cord,
taut

then open up my palm and let them fly

to dance across a mauve sunset.

the words and I
the words and I......

"Control the words, control the world."

ready...set...write

2006-10-24T00:25:00.000-05:00

write, write, write
get lost and
fritter away hours of the night

slave, slave, slave
until
the comma's just right

what a crazy way to live... purging to survive

what a marvelous misery...living this writer’s life

race, race, race
then slow

and take some time

after all,
this is a marathon

and you are writing for your life

Existence Transient

2006-10-23T17:16:00.000-05:00

Written May 17 2006*

an anchorless
existence.

transient.

wandering.

waking
to look
through opaque windows,

walking
to stare at
distance shores,

passing others,

others take no notice.

weighted to no one.

isn’t this
what they call freedom?

isn’t this
what I wanted?

* To me this is one of my most depressing poems because it speaks to being abandoned and also to abandoning yourself, your home, your loved ones and being left hopeless.

This is the heart of darkness

2006-10-23T10:57:00.000-05:00

He might as well of said “This is the heart of darkness, my child. Come in. Let me introduce you to Evil. Why don’t you two dance? He’s nice. We’re old friends. And he will be yours, too. This is where I wallow; I wanted to share it with you.”

Flag waving

2006-10-20T12:34:00.000-05:00

I carry your scars

decorating

my heart and my skin
and anyone who has ever been
like me

can see it clearly
see it from miles away

It is like a flag I wave
and it screams of ache and rage and sin

and shows the world
just what I am
just what I am