table grace

Here are a few lines from “table grace”:

I miss my favorite meal Mom used to make

I want pork chops

and cauliflower, a cheese-dripped wrinkled brain

now that Mom’s in Afghanistan, Aunt Sally tends our garden

when the house is quiet, I’m just a scared little girl

I know I’m the only one awake

most nights, I listen to the cuckoo clock strike

ten, eleven, twelve

I think it’s 8:30 tomorrow morning in Kabul

one o’clock my morning is the last I remember

© 31 May 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#Afghanistan #scared #clock #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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Simon says

I’d like to share the eighth stanza of my ten stanza poem, “Simon says”:

Simon’s sister saw her psychiatrist this morning and was told she isn’t any better

Simon’s sister tells her psychiatrist:

there’s this one fence post

it stands by itself

not another fence post near but it

has barbed wire wrapped around it like

it used to connect

like

there used to be a fence

© 13 December 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#fence #barbed #brother #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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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

before

“before” is a simple, five stanza poem; sharing the first and last stanzas:

while in the womb

how can it be

that God knew me

before

. . . 

knows me coming

knows me going

how can it be

that God knew me

before

© 13 December 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#know #womb #breath #thought #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 #NC

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flesh and blood

Here are the second and next to last stanzas of “flesh and blood”.  The entire poem is in Naked, © 2018, Main Street Rag Publishing Company.

my day stretches out with its guarantee of apathy

I see pain-etched faces akin to old window glass

I watch the heavy, summer wind blow my hat

from one end to the other on the rear window car ledge

like my unanchored belief

 

if I follow my path

I’ll arrive at the manger

in the dark, alone

with only donkeys and goats

for company

© 2018       Cindy B. Stevens

#pain #manger #dark #path #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 #NC

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bare skin

I wanted a Christmas poem to share with you, ten days prior, and decided on “bare skin”, which appears, in its entirety, in Naked, © 2018, Main Street Rag Publishing Company.  Here are the first and last three stanzas of this melancholic poem:

I feel his bare skin pressed against mine

intimate

snuggle in soft sheet luxury

on a cold, no alarm, Saturday morning

. . . 

lights are on

fire’s laid

it’s a full moon Christmas

I fill my glass

practice the art of the dunk

air bubbles shoot to surface and pop

I scoop the chocolate chip cookie chunk from my milk

Santa died

it’s hard to sleep

© 2018       Cindy B. Stevens

#Intimate #Melancholy #Christmas #Santa #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 #NC

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I make change

Here’s the first stanza of “I make change”:

I’m a fallen angel

                                    in my laced-up

                                    buckled

                                    zippered

                                    burnt-orange

                                    knee-high leather

                                    boots, I walk

past the greeter towards the third pew

© Cindy B. Stevens

7 October 2016

#angel #fallen #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

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I cope

“I cope” speaks of needs and acceptance; here are seven lines:

pain grinds me like a coffee bean

I need escape

need a brew

I wait

watch

want

light

© Cindy B. Stevens

21 July 2017

#coffee #touch #light #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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breathe on me

Three lines of an eight line poem, “breathe on me”:

I like when he stands behind me

breathes on my neck

scruff scratches smooth

© 25 August 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#breath #smooth #curve #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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after the wedding

Here are the first two and last two lines of “after the wedding”, an eleven line poem:

a black dress woman undresses the brides

in front of the windows beside a red light

they’re stiff and they’re stoic

they can’t see with their eyes

© 21 September 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#bride #tulle #silk #satin #lace #AmWriting #BeWriting #BookLove #Bookworm #Dream #IGpoet #IGpoetry #IloveWriting #LoveWriting #Poet #PoetLife #Poetry #PoetryBlog #PoetryLover #Reading #Write #WriterLife #WritersCommunity #WritersCorner #WritersNetwork #WritersOfIG #WritersOfInstagram #Writing #Wordsmith #NC

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fishing

“fishing” is a short poem; I’m sharing five lines:

I want to be a caught fish

a found sheep

I want a new name

a new life

new eyes

© 18 October 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#new #name #Jesus #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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a domestic engineer

Here are three stanzas from “a domestic engineer”, which has been finished for a while and will be in my next collection:

Home-Ec taught that cakes fall

make it perfect

smooth frosting over cracks

slather more over the German chocolate

until it stands prize worthy

I try to escape while I iron

a button-up starched shirt waves its arms

makes demands from the counter

towers over the ironing board

I soothe the yoke

careful to not scorch the starch, I run steam over wrinkles

they scream and hiss

refrigerator tosses salad greens

cork bits float in red wine

supper has done its prep-time when

the train whistles from the driveway

a clatter of boots at the back door

his eyebrows frown below his forehead drawn with lines

I stay for eyes that dare me to leave

© 5 November 2017

Cindy B. Stevens

#domestic #anger #eggshells #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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my daughter; Jessica; infant casket

In May of this year, I posted a few lines from “infant casket”.  It’s been revised and I’m sharing again, preceded with portions of “my daughter” and “Jessica”.  These poems form a trio in my new collection.

One stanza from “my daughter”:

she helps me from the table

hem pins prick my legs

as I leave the room

Mama says

“I hope you have a daughter

just like you”.

© Cindy B. Stevens

23 July 2017

Two stanzas from “Jessica”, which was published in The Phoenix, Issue 60 © 2019, literary journal published annually through Pfeiffer University:

birth pain kidnapped me

but I wouldn’t scream

she emerged

from my cloud

silent

in my dream Jessica’s five years old

she laughs

plays with her angels

tilts her head back

fastens her eyes

on me

two days prior to yesterday

A few lines from “infant casket”:

two men carry a princess through the crowd

she wears her only pink dress

my groundskeeper carries a ladder

hedge clippers

I gaze over my manicured hedge

covet

a wild rose who doesn’t belong to me

© 29 June 2019

Cindy B. Stevens

#Daughter #Death #Funeral #Angels #AmEditing #BeWriting #AmWriting #BookLove #Bookworm #Dream #IloveWriting #LoveWriting #IGpoet #IGpoetry #Poet #Poetry #PoetryBlog #PoetLife #PoetryLover #WriterLife #WritersOfInstagram #WritersOfIG #WritersCommunity #WritersCorner #Wordsmith #WritersNetwork #Write #Writing #Hillsborough #NC

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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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