Mama's humor

a stanza from “Mama’s humor”

I forget what my humor sounds like

before I was shot to death

before I couldn’t resuscitate

these days, I forget those anniversaries

sometimes I forget the tragedies

most times I forget how to joke

and I don’t remember what my laugh sounds like

 

© 2 August 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#laugh #life #cry #AmWriting #BeWriting #BookLove #Bookworm #Dream #IGpoet #IGpoetry #IloveWriting #Inspiration #LoveWriting #Poet #PoetLife #Poetry #PoetryBlog #PoetryLover #Reading #Write #WriterLife #WritersCommunity #WritersCorner #WritersNetwork #WritersOfIG #WritersOfInstagram #Writing #Wordsmith #AmEditing #NC

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Lucifer says

a glimpse of “Lucifer says”

resurrection binds my hands

my wrists burn with dawn

prophesy chafes my bones

I’m a bird’s cry

I harmonize piano melody

I come from an open door where David sings his blues

he pours out his soul

it sparkles like scotch in a tumbler

every and each changed tide

blows my flame

tickles my heart

I recognize the gritty love of

Bethlehem

here, breathe my sulfur

© 27 April 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#mercy #sulfur #Lucifer #AmWriting #BeWriting #BookLove #Bookworm #Dream #IGpoet #IGpoetry #IloveWriting #Inspiration #LoveWriting #Poet #PoetLife #Poetry #PoetryBlog #PoetryLover #Reading #Write #WriterLife #WritersCommunity #WritersCorner #WritersNetwork #WritersOfIG #WritersOfInstagram #Writing #Wordsmith #AmEditing #NC

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liquid

a portion of “liquid”

surrounded by bricks and wrought-iron

I cultivate secrets

stockpile seedlings

acquire heirlooms

but fragrant Wisteria strangles

my Hawthorn hedge integrity and

Silver Maple roots breach my wall

© 14 November 2017

Cindy B. Stevens

#distribute #garden #wall #AmWriting #BeWriting #BookLove #Bookworm #Dream #IGpoet #IGpoetry #IloveWriting #Inspiration #LoveWriting #Poet #PoetLife #Poetry #PoetryBlog #PoetryLover #Reading #Write #WriterLife #WritersCommunity #WritersCorner #WritersNetwork #WritersOfIG #WritersOfInstagram #Writing #Wordsmith #AmEditing #NC

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praying for drought

here are the first and last stanzas from another recent poem, “praying for drought”, that I imagined on 1 March with the line “he builds a nest in the rain”; it wouldn’t leave me alone during March or July, and has agonizingly finalized itself:

I don’t think god cared I kept my absent parent fears locked

inside my diary

hidden in my closet, because

god didn’t speak up

and rain came

most every afternoon

it tried to drown my ivy

I don’t remember when

the rain

stopped

I don’t want to remember

the rain

© 2 August 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#rain #fear #roots #AmWriting #BeWriting #BookLove #Bookworm #Dream #IGpoet #IGpoetry #IloveWriting #Inspiration #LoveWriting #Poet #PoetLife #Poetry #PoetryBlog #PoetryLover #Reading #Write #WriterLife #WritersCommunity #WritersCorner #WritersNetwork #WritersOfIG #WritersOfInstagram #Writing #Wordsmith #AmEditing #NC

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found

this poem, “found”, began as a rambling piece, and here are four lines of the nine remaining lines of certainty:

Jesus tells me I’m not as lost as I think

salvation is not in my reflection

my voice

head

© 16 August 2017

Cindy B. Stevens

#reflect #found #certain #AmWriting #BeWriting #BookLove #Bookworm #Dream #IGpoet #IGpoetry #IloveWriting #Inspiration #LoveWriting #Poet #PoetLife #Poetry #PoetryBlog #PoetryLover #Reading #Write #WriterLife #WritersCommunity #WritersCorner #WritersNetwork #WritersOfIG #WritersOfInstagram #Writing #Wordsmith #AmEditing #NC

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