I Just Have a Soul Full of Ladybugs.

inspired by a prompt yesterday via Blissdom Wisdom Workshops

I just have... wildflowers in my heart

I just have... poetry pouring out of a hole in my head.

I just have... eyes that are puffy from tears I hold back. Or the tears I can't.

I just have....love etched on my arms.

I just have... a soul full of ladybugs, butterflies, and songbirds.

I just have....aching, papery skin that shrinks away from touch.

I just have...fireworks of longing going off inside me, hues of purple, pink, and orange.

I just have...spiderwebs in places that I've left closed off for years.

I just have...a stomach that stays knotted up like some old rope on a ship.

I just have...an empty womb where swan songs were once sung.

I just have...a heaviness that's too big to hold.

I just have...brown eyes that want to see inside you, see if you're real.

I just have...an angry tendency to compare.

I just have...so much love for others, yet so little for myself.


Dude, Where's My Blog?

So I'm here.
At Blissdom. In Nashville.
All I can say is?

It's eleven kinds of awesome.

Part of me feels like I don't belong here
Amongst all these super smart people.
(This is not just the low-brow Chardonnay talking)

I have a lot of work to do
But I need your help.
That means honest input, critiques, and comments.

I cannot be objective about my own work. I can't step away.

I'm afraid. Afraid of my writing, afraid of myself.
Afraid that my life will be reduced to getting crunk at cronferences.
Just dreaming about the writer I could be.
Instead of taking chances---submitting posts for publication and not caring whether "they" accept something or not. Have to keep trying. Practicing.

I'm afraid of saying things. Things that will alienate you.
Things that might even scare me. I'm not sure what's underneath,
This dinosaur buried in the rubble. I'm chipping away slowly,
Because fear is a dirty fool.

But I am still here.
It's a first step.

I love you all.
Thank you for reading.
There are no real words.
I am grateful and scared and humbled here.
I will never be a "big blogger," but I don't wanna be.
I wanna be the girl next door. Who's a writer.
Who you love to stop by and read.

Because that is who I am.


I dream of...

I've been inspired by Liz an awful lot lately. She evokes such powerful feelings in me, yet does so using very few words. Please stop by her place and read for a spell. You can follow her on Twitter at @ArtemisRetreats.

I dream of...
Writing incredible things
Of reading and swooning over words on a page.
Of black ink on my fingers and pages full of my messy handwriting.

I struggle every day to
Coax my words out,
I {try to} stare down Fear
Look him in the eye
Directly, without faltering
And say,
"Fuck you."

I struggle every day to
Shove aside Worry
I push away from his tears and frowns.

I struggle every day to
Ignore the malicious whispers in my head
And pray to the Gods of Inspiration instead

I struggle every day with the knowledge that
You will read me only when you feel like it
And you may not like what I write.
But that's not the point.

The point is that I had the guts to put it out there.

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