The following are fallacies: that there exists a love willing to give as selflessly in return as your heart can give; that love trumps all; that love is real when it doesn’t hurt. Love, as we feel it, is only real when it hurts because you find you can give so much of yourself, perhaps…
Author: iridescentlover
Writer, lover, educator, seeker, humanitarian, advocate, divine woman.
"Living is my art and love is my masterpiece."
sharkeyspeaks.com
&
kisstheplanet.wordpress.com
see you as I [a micropoem]
We will be lost of each other In the next world If we don’t learn to recognize ourselves Beyond these bodies we visit. You’ve seen mine – Show you yours.
there aren’t words [a brief poetic]
“Please, don’t ever stop writing, Allow always the twins of Joy and Pain to ravage you…” The pain I’ve been trying to write Out of my system, however Is one for which language has birthed Not words, but images Personal and of the utmost beauty These marked the path to a grave A certain part…
on the power in one (excerpt of a poem)
’tis the season for lighted candles and much reflection on the year’s end. Does your flame flare with intent to ignite or are you just running to the end of your own wick? The small flame Illuminates the waxen still corpses Magnifying the shadows ominously of the sleeping Beside it, like a friendly, taunting threat…
Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
This one is a throwback (written in 2006), and one of the few instances I employed some rhyme and form with mild success. One of the featured poems I keep stapled to the site, it’s a good way to invite that admirer of yours a little closer this holiday season. Enjoy. Meet Me Under the…
White Silence #whiteviolence (a poem)
I was at the [too docile] march on Washington today (which, as a 25-year-old in twenty-first century America, theory says shouldn’t have been necessary for the reasons it is – but that will be another story). Many thoughts running over my mind, including the question by some. You probably have asked it yourself. This is…
but do you? (a short poem)
(“Always” truly means always, my dear) With a hint of sadness And human wonder It occurred to me then That perhaps we are all incapable Of truly understanding How deeply, how full Is another’s love for us. And yet, maybe not. Maybe it just takes a little more Than traditional human effort. A long shot…
my humanity [a brief crafted thought]
There are moments, sometimes, I feel so justified in my humanity, feel so rightly vulnerable, feel excited, feel alone, feel endlessly hopeful, feel despair, feel desire for my deepest wants that burns to the point of physical ache, feel beautiful, feel foolish, feel too proud, too modest, gullible, feel too easily hurt, feel guarded, too…
too open, honest – micropoems
(would be said) I. Trying not to think about How it feels at night Your skin, mine i. How good it feels To be so tied At the soul and mind Unbreakable ii. How lost then In silent bribe accepting To cut my tongue Sake of your peace II. I’ll never stop wanting To mimic…
because #blacklivesmatter (student work)
The most powerful thing I have the privilege of doing sometimes is being allowed and trusted enough into the lives of my students to have some very honest, open dialogues. There’s so much learned on both sides when there’s enough trust and care to be honest. These are just a handful of pledges my students…
Haitian Lessons, Pt. I: On Physical Beauty & Self-Awareness (A Crafted Thought)
For four straight weeks, I had the privilege to live with a great friend (see also: lover) in Haiti, on the fringe of Port-au-Prince near Petionville. I haven’t been stateside for even a week yet and already the reflections are revealing just how much I did learn (although, had you asked me then, I’d have…
forever my dream
Curled in my bed, clutching, I feel your arms slide up mine, and pull my hands away from my face as you creep gently over my body to kiss that troubled look you hate to see, grabbing tears before they’ve fallen, kissing every inch of me, chasing the pain out through my skin delivering the…
Sharkey Speaks 