Tag Archives: poem

Tides Don’t Turn

Posted on September 25, 2020 by Shyla Ann

Tides Don’t Turn They’re relentlessrolling toward the shore.Waves crash— an unforgiving Kublai Khanor opiate inspired vision in a dream. A fragment.A sliver of the largest moonthat ever pulled the tide upwith such reliable gravity.A tragedy. The only words to linger longer after the last lineare those … Continue reading →

Posted in First Draft Friday, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

What’s In the Mirror

Posted on August 24, 2020 by Shyla Ann

What’s in the Mirror It’s morning again and I look in the mirror. Natural curls of my hair cling to each other in fluffy waves on top and tight, smooth spirals underneath. I flip it forward, check the length, and … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Sunday Morning Song

Posted on March 22, 2020 by Shyla Ann

Sunday Morning Song The house is alive while I sleep. I wake to new dirty dishes piled in the sink. I tread lightly through the early morning to keep the house asleep. I think with my fingers tapping on a … Continue reading →

Posted in First Draft Friday, Journal, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

This

Posted on September 13, 2019 by Shyla Ann

This Sometimes words dry up like soil in drought. Unearthed clumps of rust brown clay feel like rocks. Clenched in a fist they turn to dust, slip through your fingertips and leave a pile of dry grit on cracked ground. … Continue reading →

Posted in First Draft Friday, Poetry | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Open Window

Posted on August 23, 2019 by Shyla Ann

Open Window I’m sitting by the window watching wind blow, watching time go, watching cars go by. The street noise and the taxicabs can’t seem to reach me here. What if one day all the cars below were stopped in … Continue reading →

Posted in First Draft Friday, Poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Portentous Man

Posted on July 27, 2019 by Shyla Ann

Portentous Man His speeches are portentous pedestal stepping hands waving in grandiose circles finger wagging from his tongue eyes on fire with conviction. He means what he says without question without introspection without compassion. A herald in the eye of … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , | 1 Comment

What’s In the Mirror

Posted on May 31, 2019 by Shyla Ann

What’s in the Mirror It’s morning again and I’m looking in the mirror. Natural curls of my hair cling to each other in fluffy waves on top and tight, smooth spirals underneath. I flip it forward, in front of my … Continue reading →

Posted in First Draft Friday, Poetry | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

The Paper Shredder

Posted on May 10, 2019 by Shyla Ann

The Paper Shredder apathy enters, unannounced, stage left demands a spotlight a flipped switch a mislabeled outlet a mischievous 3 year old a love letter accompanied by an old photo with no names on the back imaginary, invisible strips of … Continue reading →

Posted in First Draft Friday, Poetry | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Permission

Posted on May 3, 2019 by Shyla Ann

Permission Mind the minor gaps in memory – traverse across them as dust caught in twilights gaze. Behold regret found in spaces between the light. Take a walk with awareness and embrace time, a gift from beyond the beyond. Find … Continue reading →

Posted in First Draft Friday, Poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Dreamcatcher

Posted on April 5, 2019 by Shyla Ann

Dreamcatcher A tangled web of twine tied round and round and I wound up bound by a hunter who had haunted me set the trap and stalked me through dense forests REM sleep. There is where I set up my … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments