Awen

senses,

I remember the reap and feasts

of old,

I remember you.

There is a line of crimson-curled poesy

working deep inside

and it’s biting at my ribs

to be let out–

(this is Awen–when muse strikes and you are helpless before it.)

I’m trying,

oh I’m trying to live.

I’m trying to be real.

that’s what,

Shut Up.

It’s not like anything else I know.

~Melanie Thomason

lint

wanting to write

waiting to write

I was encouraged to contemplate the lint in my navel

upon inspection I don’t even have that to provide a start

—

all it takes is one word, a beginning

all great works; start with one word

one note, one thought

yet here I sit…

wanting to write

waiting to write

~Melanie Thomason

2/19/19

Paresthesia

i’m stranded

thoughts strangled

by emotion

i must-have slept on my brain funny*

’cause I’ve lost the ability to word

and

it is pins and needle painful

∫

my body has been laughing at me

for years

but

I’ve always been able to count on my mind

but somehow that seems lost in time

as records play

on repeat

 

~Melanie Thomason

 

 

 

 

* I unashamedly admit that I stole the line “i must-have slept on my brain funny” from my very silly husband

time to write

mysterious

yet strong sensation

fingers twitching

eyeballs itching

something is gnawing at my brainstem

and somersaulting in my belly

what in the words?!

guess they want

to be let out!

~Melanie Blackwell

You!

You!

you are

an infectious disease

–

you

plague

my every waking moment

–

thoughts of you

even creep in

to corrupt

my dreams

–

you

attack my cells

metastasizing

and multiplying

–

my system

cannot fight you off

and you spread

until

you and I

are one

no longer

distinguishable

or divisible

and

I

am

better

for

it.

–

~Melanie Blackwell