hesitation quieted

balasanai am asked
by somewhere inside me
to move carefully
through you.

you can feel when i
enter the space
between us,

a field where
you are a question
calmly waiting
for me.

every time i clear my mind
to surrender
you invite me
to stay with you.

a hesitation now quieted…
i am not afraid to love you
before you are asking.

© r.e.l. 8/23/16

Posted for challenge #37 on  Prose

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i sent this to you now

Image source: David Whyte http://www.davidwhyte.com/

Image source: David Whyte http://www.davidwhyte.com/

i sent this to you now because i know there’s no agenda in the silence.

although it may seem i’m timid, aloof or afraid, i surrender to you… disappearing like morning sometimes.

please don’t be scared. forgive. forgive like i can almost see you.

it’s better to laugh it out. at your heart, but never disregard.

mean the world to me. my wounds remind me of you, and look forward to me being precious to you.

© r.e.l. 5/16/15

you float as i know you

floating_candles

in the days when i loved you more than i loved myself
i floated, like light, above water, above myself

to a dream that is hard to forget
(i never forgot)
words that were dying to be shared
as hearts, sacred
opened up to melt onto the floor

together to protect each other, to protect themselves
voices whispered
tears of the past, of the present, of the future broke
presence that would live on and become patience

© r.e.l. 11/1/14

dear precious tears

girl_rain
who are you, precious life?

stay with me in your presence
that breathes even when it doesn’t try.
you see the potential that i don’t see in myself.
you cry sometimes
and prefer to hide…
surrounded by pillows, no one can see your face,
your weakness,
and you don’t have to be something you’re not,
something you feel others expect.

dear precious tears,
it’s ok
because you only come when your heart is shining
transferring all the opposite into you.
your water is not fear or anger
but freedom.
you are expression of desire met
beyond imagination, by your side.
you are delight at being enough
to be intimate
to be wanted.
you allow me to know that my space is safe
and you know what you need to say
when no one else is listening.

you are my gift.

© r.e.l. 9/3/14

Submitted to Thursday Poet Rally week 79 with Jingle Poetry

f*ck you, valentine’s day

heart_candle2

Fuck You! That says a lot, but does it really?

The extent to which I feel it is not adequately described with a common phrase. Dear Love, you do not remind me of red hearts right now.

You do not remind me of champagne and bubble baths for two, with chocolate kisses mixed in. You do not entice me to smile or make Valentines. You make me want to cry.

I haven’t cried though because it’s more fun to curse you and all of your celebrations — especially your presumption that all beings who wish to buy food on a given day also wish to be reminded of you. What do you expect me to do? I am the one who was left, the one whose heart was trampled on.

Should I buy paper and paste and send myself half a Valentine with a rigid break in the middle, with blood still crusty on the edges of its break? How do I depict the scars that have built upon each other, one atop the other in layers, in breaks?

Each break is different, so it’s not like they are all piled up nicely for display.

I don’t want to give you the power to allow me to cry now. You are only a fucking holiday. You are only trying to make money off of the unsuspecting, love-struck souls who have bubble hearts floating above their clouded hearts. You make plenty. You have them.

You think you have love too. But, think again. I didn’t say Fuck Love, I said Fuck You. You are a reminder to all of the brokenhearted that they should just go home and cry. You remind me not to paint my toenails red.

The worst part is that you make me want to hate love. Nice try. I don’t. I only hate you. But instead of celebrating love today, I want to wear black, and hide in a cave. All in your honor.

From there, I think I will make you a Valentine, as I sit here telling the fire these words. The fire is watching me type. I am being told that I should burn you up. To purify you? To purify myself? Truly, I hope you feel the pain and have no one to rescue you with water, no one to pat you until you are free.

I hope you die before you wake up.

And now, I just cried.

Originally published on Rebelle Society 2.11.14

disappoints, not

it’s why i’m a writer
because life is in balance
a seesaw, tipping

i see life through a lens
that looks for what’s interspersed
as opposites
each sting
has a petal

i can hear what you see
when i am grateful
to be alive

behind the eyes of a thinker
who disappoints, not

because there is a balance
always
and the thought of a dream
behind a barrier
cannot exist unless
you see it

© r.e.l. 10/31/12

Posted for 10/30/12-11/5/12 on Jingle Poetry

i believe you, your innuendo


you sparkle
with your gift
i slept next to you
last night
you are my wish, you know

and you are mine

where are you now
in this moment
stepping lightly
through misty time
with a fire not forgotten?

you say, don’t rush it
but stay on the edge:
your whisper…

to you i respond, i believe you
my secret:
your innuendo...

it’s time
to open the door
if ever so slightly
to me

i am here
and i knew you
before
i knew you were coming

© r.e.l. 1/28/11

image ‘Through My Window’ by Ron Moss

posted for Poetry Potluck week 20: Peace, Relaxation, Spirituality on Jingle Poetry

he wants

he barely scratches the surface when he knows
that he wants her
to take something from him

just what… is elusive
but does it matter to you?

take the last bit
maybe more
it is the least i can offer
to you

for, in this moment
this unique instant
my heart beats against the wind

© r.e.l. 12/24/10

inspired by D. H. Lawrence

**this post is for Poetry Potluck Week 16 on Jingle Poetry

Featured in Love Bytes on redbubble

Received The Most Creative Blogger Award from Jingle Poetry

 


a broken heart

a smile can speak a thousand words
but it cannot calm a broken heart.
how do you talk to a heart
and tell it to live in the moment
to tell it it’s been broken for a reason?
it has no reasoning
only feeling…

how, after convincing it to open wide
to give itself to another
again going to a vulnerable place
this time because it’s safe
because the other expresses heart and soul,
how do you convince a heart
that its message is received, appreciated with love
but that demons have eaten it
because it was perfect exactly as it was?

how do you tell a heart that it’s ok
to stay open and surrender
when it can think of nothing else
but the last time you told it this
answering its prayers?

how do you tell it that
its karma was shared with another
so you did it no harm
trust me this time and surrender
sent to me from the stars
just your heart in exchange for mine
your soul for mine
to be a colony in which to become each other?

a heart is a star
but it can’t shine when it’s broken
broken because love brings up its brokenness
surrender…
because it’s unknown how long it will take
to heal, if ever.

yet all a heart asks is
why do you walk away from something beautiful?

it does what you say though
and surrenders again…
feeling itself in everything
for guidance
but still it all tells it the same,
that the heart it opened for
is still open
just hidden underneath
and that it should hang on.

© r.e.l. 2/9/08

submitted to caesura 2/5/14

featured on Love Bytes on redbubble

featured on Poetic License Series in may 2011

posted for Poetry Potluck 5/1-5/7/11 doubts, fear, inhibition, hesitation on Jingle Poetry

posted for Poetry Picnic 10/16-10/22/11 on Gooseberry Garden

submitted to Knuckle Sandwich Publishing

mountains or pebbles

Nobody trips over mountains. It is the small pebble that causes you to  stumble.

Why give the pebble such power over you.  Do what you have to do to simply get past it so that you open the door to the next dream in your heart.

Pass all the pebbles in your path and you will find you have crossed the mountain.

It is as simple as you let it be.  Trust that the unknown can guide you, if in it, you feel awe or fear of knowing the happiness you withhold from yourself.

Even in darkness you can find the pebbles that haunt you.  Pick them up with your small hands and toss them aside, or transform them into something precious by thanking them for their lessons.  Their lessons are your gifts.

Surrender to the dream you were meant to be.

[inspired by an unknown author]

© r.e.l. 10/16/10