When the Muses finally give up on me
I pray that my efforts with their
Essence of creation made them proud
To have smiled upon me
-gws
When the Muses Finally Give Up on Me
Category: Prompted
Poetry inspired by a prompt
How the Wind Came and Changed Everything
My curls dance around my face
As the wind kisses my cheeks rosy
These are the winds of change
Smelling of hope and promise
Action and evolution
The wind sings dreams of change to me
It pulls at my skirts
Kisses goosebumps onto my skin
Willing me to move my feet
Daring me to take a chance
Toward unwritten promise
I toss on my sweater
Pick up my notebook
Tamp down my hat
And walk toward the unknown
Wind cheering at my back
Celebrating the changing of everything
-gws
How Poems Are Like Orgasms
Poems begin with desire
Deep and persistent
Feverish and demanding
They demand attention
Needful hungry things
Finicky in how they want to be handled
Not touched by just any words
They must be the RIGHT words
Poems demand intimate connection
Crave it
Require it
They require time to build
A sacred dance between poet and pen
The stimulation of mind and soul
Identification and reflection of the human experience
Poems must touch the most intimate parts of us
Where human and universe converge
Grasping and pulling feelings to the surface
Until the soul explodes in prismatic truths
Leaving the skin erupted in goosebumps
Pupils dilated and breath quickened
The soul's hunger satisfied
Poems demand nothing less
-gws
Strong Alone
I read, “and in the end, all I learned was how to be strong alone.”
I disagree.
In the end, I have learned that living a kind and authentic life earns you connections with good people with big hearts who are willing to catch and hold you when you fall.
Strength cannot exist without vulnerability. You only have to be alone if you choose to shut the world out.
Be willing to be vulnerable.
Be willing to ask for help.
Be more willing to receive help.
Build a loving village.
You don’t have to be alone to be strong.
Being alone is a choice, not a consequence.
-gws
Glass on Asphalt
Glass on asphalt
Making a mosaic
Of the mundane world
-gws
Unlearn
I need to unlearn your touch
The sound of your breathing
Next to me in the dark
I need to unlearn a lifetime
Of everything about you
-gws
Getting Over You (and Other Divine Interventions)
The Universe intervened
In our amber-trapped lives
Cleaving us asunder
Now that your umbra is clearing
I begin to see the Universe has
Gifted me infinite sunrises
Bursting with innumerable possibilities
After half my life with you
Standing you up
Holding you up
I find myself suddenly free
Of the responsibility of you
I delight in the joy of doing anything
Without your judgment
I relax remembering that there are no
Relentless expectations to navigate
I revel in a full night's uninterrupted sleep
I relinquish more and more tension from my body
As each day passes without you
A single divine gift containing
All the possibilities I can dream of
I will not get over you in a day
You have left me a moonscape
Desolate and damaged
I will redeem and reclaim myself
Both shadow and light
Ever shifting and changing
Just like the magnificent moon
-gws
This is the Poem I’ll Never Write
Holding hands in matching rockers
Laughing about when we were young
You reminiscing about record stores and ska shows
As I tell our grandchildren tales of magic
Spending our sunset days in loving conversations
Each other's best bestie
Strolling into the ever after that follows the happily
-gws
The Cage
Inelegant and rough hewn
Invisible to all but me
Oppressive and injurious
This prison of grief and fear
Holds me fast
Arrested
The key to joy held tight in my hand
I wait for the guard to look away
So I can fly free
-gws
How to Eat a Rainbow
Glittering seeds that sparkle in winter
Much like a geode cracked open
Textured spheres like palm-sized suns
Perfume the grove with citrus tang
Oblong bunches entice with
promises of creamy, tropical sweetness
Tart, crisp heralds of autumn
Ready to move from bushel to Thanksgiving pie
Baskets of chewable night-sky pearls
Fresh from bush to muffin tin
Plump globes hang heavy on the vine in the tea-colored afternoon sun
Destined for bottle, jar, or a snack popped between a lover’s lips
-gws
Words Wishes and Wisdom 