why write?

I have to write what I hear in my head, what I dream in my sleep, what my bones ache to express.

My poems tell stories of strength, love, regret, disobedience, loss, hope, redemption, and whatever whispers to you.

—Cindy B. Stevens

Books Available

My first collection of poetry, Naked, is available for $12.00 at http://mainstreetragbookstore.com/product/naked-cindy-stevens/


For local readers, books are also available at:

Purple Crow Books in Hillsborough, NC

The Regulator Bookshop in Durham, NC



26 January 2020

my whisper

The last stanza of “my whisper”:

if my spirit touches me

will I
feel
its
whisper?

© 2 March 2019
Cindy B. Stevens

#voices #whisper #spirit #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

Photo credit:  zavatos-DZVmXRkwb4E-unsplash

20 January 2020

I raise my hand

“I raise my hand” was a difficult one to write.  Here are the second and third stanzas:

we sang Just As I Am
the preacher said, “all heads bow, all eyes close”
asked for sinners to raise hands for prayer
I didn’t want to raise mine
I worried somebody would peek
and know
I’m a sinner
 
but I was afraid to not raise it
because the preacher said
that if a sinner left
had an accident
and died
the sinner’d be lost
forever

© 2 March 2019
Cindy B. Stevens

#sinner #afraid #fear #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

Photo credit:  brigitte-tohm-j8C66j15nAk-unsplash

14 January 2020

lipstick and pretty shoes

Here’s the first stanza of “lipstick and pretty shoes”:


I think god’s a diatonic harmonica player
with one harmonica, god can change mouth shape and
change keys
doesn’t want my lipstick on the harp, so god never
lets me play

© 8 December 2019
Cindy B. Stevens

#Lipstick #Heels #Harmonica #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

Photo credit:  scott-webb-AxyUq3Ett08-unsplash

08 January 2020

my water in your veins

Here are the first and last stanzas of “my water in your veins”:

will it take a sip of courage, tawny liquid gliding down my throat
to stand in front of you
bare my obstinate bones
confess myself
ask you to forgive?

wrap my carcass in your arms
breathe my water through your veins
return it to me with a whisper
me
dead
I flicker
I flame

© 5 April 2019
Cindy B. Stevens

#whisky #water #whisper #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

Photo credit:  dylan-de-jonge-pe9T4ROjpzQ-unsplash

02 January 2020

I am not the angel Venus calls me or mud removed impurity

Here are the second, third, and fourth stanzas of a new poem, “I am not the angel Venus calls me or mud removed impurity”:

my wildness not scorched, but
I still feel like a smoking baseball glove
after the catch

I am an angel who slips in mud
who likes the feel of it
the squish

I lie in mud
make mud angels
mud cream

© 13 December 2019
Cindy B. Stevens

#angel #mud #wings #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

Photo credit:  melethril-8LUdsOowsmA-unsplash

01 January 2020

chicken feather

A new year.  I won’t argue the decade question.

My Harlan County friend, Valerie, told me once that I should do the things I love and want to do on New Year’s Day, as that will be my focus throughout the year.  So, I woke early, had a quiet breakfast with my best friend, Richard.  Read together and walked the Poet’s Walk at Ayr Mount in the cold morning air.  Took phone photos of naked trees, pond, and river.  Stopped at Walmart for facial tissues, since we’ve battled the cold virus running rampant in Orange County and had depleted our supply.  I am writing.  

Supper will be with friends and hopefully music tonight.

Back at the house, I put away some lingering Christmas decorations, reinstated Richard’s kaleidoscope collection and in doing so, couldn’t find the chicken feather table runner.  A few years ago, we were visiting with Tom Prince and Mary Rocap.  Mary has chickens and as we walked, Richard spotted a lovely brown and black chicken and said he’d love to weave something in those colors and pattern, so Mary gave him a feather (detached).  Richard found the pattern he wanted to use and we worked on the colors.  Black isn’t only black and brown isn’t only brown, you know.  He wove a couple of beautiful pieces and one of those draped the mahogany table where his kaleidoscope collection sits.  I had moved the chicken feather table runner and washed it when decorating for Christmas.  Now, can’t find it.  I’ve searched the house.  Richard has searched and finally said, “it will show up”.  I know it will.  I have to let go and in letting go of my search obsession, I was reminded of the Emerson quote I keep at the end of my emails:

Finish every day and be done with it.  You have done what you could.  Some blunders and absurdities no doubt have crept in; forget them as soon as you can.  Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be cumbered with your old nonsense.  This day is all that is good and fair.  It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on yesterdays.  – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Happy new year.