Rose & Thorn Poetry

The Morning Steam Porcelain mug filled to the brim, Perfectly sugared and creamed. Left to cool, it lets off steam, As I go about my tasks. While the coffee is cooling My morning is going, And I must not get left behind. The kitten is fed and I’ve made the bed, The dishes are now put away. Now comes the hard part, The real morning start up, How do I write my quota each day? So much to do and I just have today, But I think I’ll sit outside, Drink up my coffee and count all the birds that I spy.   (photo by Rose&ThornPoetry)

In the U.S., call 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) for the National Domestic Violence Hotline. I wrote this poem because emotional abuse is often misunderstood or overlooked. Emotional abuse (sometimes referred to as psychological abuse) is when a person repetitively attempts to control or undermine another, most often verbally (e.g. criticism, blame, humiliation, threats) but can include other non-physical behavior as well (e.g. withholding affection, isolation, disrespecting boundaries, harsh treatment). Sometimes the abuser doesn’t realize what they’re doing or think that it is wrong, but it is. It is very harmful and destructive. While I wrote this poem about emotional abuse, all abuse is wrong. If you or someone you know is being abused, there are people who can help you. Call the number above if you need help. Learn what the signs of abuse are so you can help others. I posted links to some articles on emotional abuse below. " Emotional abuse is an attempt to control, in just the sa...

Dandelion Fluff She stands in the field Of fuzzy white tops, And in her hand she holds A dandelion gone to seed, Its petals turned to fluff. She closes her eyes and makes a wish And with the gentle breeze she blows. In the wind they float away, Float away on wings of fluff.  A gossamer display on a backdrop of blue, The seeds of the once bright yellow flower, Unhurried and unworried  They buoyantly drift in the breeze. Though the flower is dead, The seeds still yet live, And will bloom in the field once again.

  Looking Glass Deep within the looking glass, Colorful emotions contort and flicker. Ashes of blue, conflicts of green, passions of red, Refract and reemerge as a shimmering display. Upon its surface they appear Desires and emotions reflected, Presented on a different face. The feelings seen, now the feelings felt, Worn as a pretentious skin. The looking glass tries not to look, For fear of being overwhelmed. For to see inside another’s soul is to stare into the sun. The fervor and feelings of others Reflect inside the mirror. The mirror can’t help but be remade, Becoming an image, Rebuilt as a façade, Becoming another’s echo. No longer can it be itself, It does not remember how To be itself apart from others. Associating with another’s blemishes, Or showcasing lovely features, Burdens borne by others now become the mirror’s. The tears resound in the mirror’s heart, The sorrow grips the deepest part, Joy likewise is bundled up and cast inside. H...

7 Haiku Poems Upon the wall, see Lonely shadows cast of leaves By bright full moonlight Haunting notes expressed Loss and passion avidly Upon a piano Solid oak so tall From leafy branches it falls An acorn so small Wet grey air outside Cold mist floats, but here inside I drink warm coffee A whisper was heard A promise made, love proclaimed Someone now engaged Delicate pink bloom To willowy branches held Soft as Dawn’s first light Dark green trees, blue sky Sun that warms the ground again It must be summer

Anyone who has ever been exhausted by socializing can relate to the need to get away. When you care about making people happy, it can be exhausting trying not to step on anyone’s toes and distressing having to make apologies when you actually do. It's not that I really prefer furniture to people, but sometimes I just need calm, and calm is hard to find when most people are present. I Prefer the Company of Tables and Chairs I prefer the company of tables and chairs, Their silent acceptance and lack of stares. They don’t cry or feel offense, Should I accidentally trip or spill Or forget to clean the dirty overfill. Or if I seem a bit dishabille, None will think adversely hence, Thus there is no need for recompense, No sudden urge to play defense. For books and mugs and little rings, Tables, chairs, and things with springs, They don’t seem to mind. Yes, I prefer the company of tables and chairs, With no questions babbled, nor loudness rambled, Nor exhaustive co...

Trying something different. This poem is just as much about appearance as the words.  Monochrome Some days I feel like I’m living in monochrome and everyone else is living in color and I just can’t experience the beautiful colors.  They look so happy smiling in that special way  Doing sweet things and living a lovely day  But I can’t say I’ve felt the same Hazy grey, lackluster mist Ashen taupe Lacerated hope, grasping at wind  They say the world is vibrant  Endowed with glossy hues  An endless adventure  A treasure-trove discovered  Look at them, excitement profuse  Life of colors everyday imbued  Joy on their faces suffuse  Bright beads adorn their necks  They live in dazzling array  Not one trace of grey Daunting hours spread on end Ragged, haggard This unbecoming state Undressed yet clothed in bleakness --curse this weakness-- It is myself I begin to hate  ...