Tag: poetess (Page 1 of 5)

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pay attention – 101/1000

May 21, 2026 / Cheney / 0 Comments

pay attention, they tell me, pay attention to the things you hear
like the birds singing, or coffee shop chatter, or crying
and if I pay attention, they tell me, I’ll contain multitudes

multitudes of words drown me like the rising tide and
I can’t keep my head above water so the words are swallowed
and then they lift me buoyantly back to life

there they go, floating along the waves, the words
are boats that steer themselves and I just have to
pay attention as they pass as if writing poetry were that easy

pay attention, they tell me… Read the rest

where i come from

May 2, 2026 / Cheney / 1 Comment

Where I come from the earth was turned and tilled
by my grandfather for years while he grew

apple trees, blueberry bushes, big fat purple grapes
on vines over an arbor, but there were ugly things too –

the bees that attacked when I went for an apple, and
those fat green tomato slugs he’d burn off with a blow torch.

Even then, I thought that was crazy, and I was right. Some
things were not normal, like living with them, and mom, and nana,

four generations under one roof, which gram treated like
a miracle from her Catholic god … Read the rest

every morning

May 1, 2026 / Cheney / 0 Comments

You sing a new song every morning.
In your thin teeshirts and loose shorts,
you’re a sleepy singer, but your eyes are bright.
Remember all those Saturdays and Sundays we
woke up and rolled into each other’s arms?
That was always my favorite place to be.
Wrapped up in you and blankets and love,
sun shining through the window, welcoming us to the day.
You sing a new song every morning.

From Audrey Gidman’s monthly poetry prompts: Write a soloem. The poet avery r. young created a form called the soloem (so-lo-em), a Chicago soul poem. It’s a 9-line … Read the rest

April 19, 2026 / Cheney / 0 Comments

you look so innocent with your soft blue eyes and kind smile, no one would believe you’d do the things you’ve done to me, but here we are anyway. me here, you somewhere else; we stopped sharing our locations and now i have lost you more. but something inside me still reaches for you, despite your trickery and trampling of my heart, some thin strand of hope for another chance reaches – and so i tamp it down again. and again and again and again.

April 18, 2026 / Cheney / 0 Comments

i put you on a podium,
celebrated your investiture,
wore your crown of thorns
and bled down my face,
my tears red, soul dead,
i kept wanting this so
long after you didn’t
that i missed when you
started slipping away
and by the time i knew
i was losing you
it was too late and there’s
really nothing worse
than a missed
opportunity

hit the road, jack

December 28, 2025 / Cheney / 0 Comments

I’ve always wanted to see
the skies of Montana, or even
Wyoming, wherever that is;
can I find it on a map?

I’ll check the forecast,
pack up my medicine and
toothbrush and clothes,
and I’ll just fucking go.

Set out on the highway

With “head west” being
the only thing I know,
a road that may or may not
be lonely, and my cat,
she comes, too.

I’m going to die
if I don’t get away from you.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: Wyoming, forecast, and medicine.

_{Photo by Neil Wallace on Unsplash}

i want to be free

December 27, 2025 / Cheney / 0 Comments

I can’t take this anymore
I’ve said hundreds of times
but now I really mean it.
I can’t take it,
not a minute longer.

We’ve lived a life of
make-believe and never
stopped playing games.
Dress-up, house, pretend.
It really has to end.

I’ve been dancing
around the edges of
my escape route and
now I’m running toward it.

I want to be free
as fast as I can be.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: not a minute longer, make-believe, and dancing.

_{Photo by Erik Karits on Unsplash}

i still miss you

December 26, 2025 / Cheney / 0 Comments

Decades ago,
it’s been decades now,
you and I shared space
in the same place
at the same time
and the fact that
was even possible
feels like magic.

Now all I have are
memories and imaginations,
like the lump of my belly
growing with our baby
and the house we
would have bought together,
the home we would
have made forever.

Remember marching
up the sand dunes to see
the most beautiful sunset
of our entire lives?

Do you remember dancing
at Limelight, utterly high with the
flashing lights and pulsing music,
our sweaty bodies sliding
against each other … Read the rest