Love is…


She asked me what love looked like to me
and images flooded my mind
Memories and laughter
but no words to describe

how she would rise early
so we would wake to heat
how much she would cook for her family
on her aching and old feet

or the last time she braided my hair
because I wanted it “just like yours”
that was after two jobs and all her household chores
it was her holding me the night my kids died

never once mentioning the anger she felt inside
I remembered how he slept near her casket
because she was the only love he had ever known
Winter laughter and Summer tears

All the feelings of being home-grown
She asked me what love looked like
but it is easier to describe
what love is not and it boiled inside

Love is not the smell of sex in the air
or the taste of your lips on mine
It is not the feel of warm bodies in dance
Or the sweat of bodies entwined

It is not the temporary headiness of a summer romance
or the passion of a fling after hours
Dating two or three at a time
or the feeling when someone brings you flowers

Love is not the emotion that leads to divorce
but the one that says “til death do us part”
Not the urge we find in a cheater’s bed
But the joy in “my heart is your heart”

Love is indescribable all-encompassing
sometimes fleeting love is rare
everlasting and understanding
you may barely even know it’s there

In love it will consume you
and it will be the air that you breathe
when gone it can break you
knocking you to your knees

She stood before me pacing
as she often used to do
a bittersweet smile chased the thought
if you only knew

but I relived the memories we once shared
and still pacing she asked me
I stared into her eyes and answered
“slightly out of reach”



Writing Me

I Can't Write Stories by HQHeart

a poet unrefined yet amicable
thought frivolous by the masses
a student once
confined by society’s classes
and still none of the above
a woman a mother
friend lover
a writer beyond the labels
a writer as long as i’m able
i am my pen
i am my words
i write
i fight
i free the masses
stuck in countless classes
i write because it heals
it conveys the way i feel
a portal so I know the world is real
it is all i know how to be
my mirror
through which the world sees


Posted for Writing, 3WW Week No. 411, and Me.  Please view and comment on some of the other poems posted as well!  Enjoy!

Poor On Sale

Homeless by skull
Homeless by skull


We live in a world of barter and trade.

Selling souls of the future to survive today.

Gave away hopes and dreams for American Pie.

Traded morals and truth for technology and lies.

Modern day slavery has our kids.

Working poor sold to the highest credit company bid.

Leaders spend billions to save foreign stock,

then scream broke and place America on the auction block.

Poverty lines lower than hell,

so what happens when there’s nothing left to sell?

Price of rent rises, nowhere to live.

Built more Enterprises, too corrupt to give.

American elections vote “Executives, come take a seat.”

Middle class protests: “Two jobs and can’t eat!”

No compassion lies in the hearts of these men.

Logic asks: “Break the people, who is left to line your pockets then?”

What Do You See?

Mirror Mirror by LaraKim
Mirror Mirror by LaraKim

People say…

eyes are the mirror to the soul.

They hold

all that is buried within this shell.

So, you stare…

and what do you find there?

Exactly what do you see

when you look at me?

Do you see the places I’ve been?

The flames burning within…

this shell…

this Hell…


What is it

within me?

You see, I don’t know.

All I see is the turmoil I’ve been through,

the problems that ensue,

the pain I’ve caused,

and the hurt that paused


I can’t see past the external things

that caused the turmoil within.

Tell me…

Is my soul black

from the world that I let seep in?

Is it white from good intentions within?

Please tell me, for I am blind

and not knowing is causing me to die!

Look at me!

What do you see?



Life Swim

Photo by Elena Kalis
Photo by Elena Kalis



adjectives used to describe a life
“I’m going swimming”
an irrational, yet distinct cry
for help
she thought it was all she’d need
but they gave no heed
they thought she just needed to find herself
blurred perception
if corrected, could have saved a life
floating by



Posted for Poetic Visions3WW CCCXLIII, Peace, Mag 182, and Meeting the Bar: Getting Tight (in here).  Please join in the fun and comment after linking!





She laughs as she blows bubbles.
Orbs that form worlds in her eyes
Yet does not realize
Thoughts have power;
Every minute, every hour,
Every dream she imagines
Comes true
And in that second
She forms a reality
Where laughter…
Is all we need.
In that moment,
Even adults around her see.
Newness and possibility,
Creation and wonder,
And they start to dream.
Some hold on…
Change… Subtlely…
And some go back
To this world’s troubles
And forget….
Watching her laugh and blow bubbles
Orbs that formed worlds in their eyes.
Just too adult to realize
Their thoughts have power.

© Daydreamer


Also posted for Poets United!  Come join in!


Sunny Day by Jamajurabaev
Sunny Day by Jamajurabaev


His accusation was more than I could endure

Seeing damaged goods where once I was pure.

Adam had put his trust in me, while I in another.

Cursed are my seed, because of me… the world’s mother.

The destruction of all to follow rests with me,

but how could I know an Eden resident was capable of such deceit?

©  Daydreamer

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