You Are Loved Too

When we were little, you and I

would sit in the back yard waiting -

laying on our backs, staring up 

at the clouds, waiting for inspiration

to strike. Every summer we went out

and bought a new bucket of chalk

so we could outdo ourselves from 

the previous doodles and hopscotch boards. 

But I think my favorite summer of all

was the one we just wrote messages

for all the neighbors to see as they 

walked their dogs or jogged to work.

When we were little, you and I

had such big dreams - thank you

for helping me make all mine 

come true as the summers passed. 

Water is no Cleanser

Here we stand in the poring rain,

With the one I love so forget all the pain.

As he holds my hand tight,

Yet so gently, he is using no might.


He smiles at me and says he likes rain, for many ways

I know one is because we're always together on rainy days.

The rain drops are telling a story as they fall,

I smile, I listen and he says I'm so perfect like a doll.


They always say kiss a girl in the rain,

It's a fairytale, only later add the pain.

Well he must have read my mind,

He kissed me then and there, the beautiful kind.


He walked me home, and said good bye,

Little did I know that would be the last dry eye

He called me that night, and tore me apart,

He said some other girl stole his heart.


I tried not to cry, so as not to bring him down,

Though I shouldn't have cared if he were around.

I knew this day would come someday,

I just didn't know in what way.


Now I'm broken, I'm hurt so bad,

He threw me to the ground he wasn't sad.

Or I couldn't tell exactly what he felt,

This was the last time my heart would melt.


Now you see why I like the rain,

But for me it always brings pain.

He is gone, I'm a confused mess,

Is there anyway to make this hurt less?

NaPoWriMo #14 Write a poem including apples, lemons, blackberries, pears, or clementines

Clementines sitting on kitchen counters
while coffee brews silently in it's own world
and lemons fill the garbage disposal to cover up
last night's poor choices in men and take out,
remind me of everything I could not say to you.


Strawberries starting to mildew on the desk
call out to Poetry asking when the hell she's
coming home and how much longer it will take
to bring artistry back to this shriveled planet.


Apple pie baking as pears simmer on the stove
for that recipe you nicknamed "Autumn's Regret"
fill the air with an aroma not far off from your
perfume while blackberries rest atop freshly
whipped cream for tea time with your best friend
whisper hellos meant only for smiles of joy.


Sometimes fruit just has a way of reminding you
how broken you once were, but shopping in the
produce aisle lets the rest of the world know that
you are still capable of functioning in society. 

NaPoWriMo #13 Write about a personal ritual

It's been years since we've woken up
before the sun rose, just to meet in the
kitchen making soy lattes and cinnamon
cappuccinos before doing each other's hair
and heading out the door for busy days.


Sitting outside watching the sun come up,
playing our own musics in harmony with the
field behind us as we thought everything we
didn't have the strength to before bed, it is all
starting brightly - in ways the other's just can't
understand. Coffee and flowery pajamas were


the perfect mother daughter combination for
getting through those long ass work/school weeks
before having summers to ourselves filled with
tea tastings and rerun marathons in the living room.


When I was younger, back in those bayou scented
years, we were able to survive damn near anything. 

NaPoWriMo #12 write a poem based on your most recent text

As you walked away you said,
"It's set in Paris, which always helps :)"


and I couldn't help but thinking
about the person I promised to
take to Paris someday or the all
the poems I've yet to write them.


I hope you enjoy the books I lent you,
but while you're busy reading I will be
making amends and researching
ticket costs for Spring in some place


so romantically artistic that we'll
begin right where we left off. 

NaPoWriMo #11 Write a rhyming piece

Coffee delivered straight to my door -

Warm pajamas, new books to explore,
loved ones and fuzzy blankets galore,
if today's not perfect, you're just sore!

NaPoWriMo #10 Write about a City you don't want to visit

So here's to the death of a home that
never even really felt like home -

but I'd like to thank you for all that
you were before I realized just how
poisonous you could be underneath
your quiet life feel. Thank you for

giving me Library crafts on Saturdays,
picnics in the park on Sundays, movie nights
on Wednesdays,  cheer on Mondays and Fridays,
writing classes on Thursday and most of all
dinner out with my friends (and free ice cream)

on Tuesdays when the report cards came in.

Thank you for the first dates at the boardwalk,
for all the new and interesting people we met,
and especially the museums down town - but

I cannot return to that place once called home,

not if you still live there too and especially not
until the science center is reopened for good. 

NaPoWriMo # 9 Personify an emotion

So if yellow and pink have become my favorite colors,
if I'm more fond of the rose than I let on to anyone, if
I am comfortable here where I call home than am I

Happiness or Joy?

NaPoWriMo #8 People you pass by without meeting

I'm not one for taking the bus,
but I'll walk across town to find
the perfect lyric for a song about you
or the exact photo to cover your novel.

It's funny to me just how many
other people are on similar journeys
but in such different shoes. For example,
today I was headed to the park
in hopes of one last glimpse at

the cherry blossoms covering town,

a guy walked past me ranting
to the whole world about the time
the clouds changed shape just as he
was about to ask the mermaid-shaped one
to run away with him. Now, I'm not saying

that he was going to be our new
best friend or anything like that,
but if nothing else, he could have
been an interesting conversation.

How many of those are we passing up
each and every single day we go our way
without any care of who or what else
might be right there walking with us?

NaPoWriMo 2019 # 7 Perspective of a fictional character

Ode to Senryu:

Ode to Senryu,
the character I made up
to teach myself the ropes
of poetry and painting.

This is my ode to Senryu,
or rather to the personification
of Poetry herself because together
they reminded me the importance

of things like honesty, catharsis,
and most of all: artistry.

Here's another ode to
the love of my life -

passion written between
the lines of a bleeding heart
and the ink blots of a
maturing soul.

If only he could hear me
as I pour my stanzas out:

he might sweep me off
of these tired feet of mine
and take me dancing in starlight
while we hunt for inspiration

waiting within early morning
mist and the dawn of true spring.

Just the thought of such adventure
is enough for me these days, though.

-M. Rene'

NaPoWriMo # 6 What makes you whole

Drinking coffee across from you
music filling the room and all the space

between us -

that's all it takes for a day to be
completely spent and my soul

reborn.

NaPoWriMo #5 Self portrait

Looking in the mirror is one thing

but feeling exactly what's inside of you
that allows you to shine or sing or be
the remarkable force that is yourself,

well, that's a totally different type of sight.

And between you and me, you, my love,

could really use some honest reflection.
Here and now, some moments to embrace
all that you have ever been and everywhere
you can go from here on up. I appreciate

the way you can sit and paint any of us

as our whole and complete selves, now
it's time for someone else to do you.
Love, your eyes are tie dyed like your soul,
your hair cannot decide on a color

and yet your favorite is so clearly gold.

There's a spark in your heart that ignites
the rest of us into artists, poets, and
adventurers that put even the greats
to shame, but best of all is the stardust

coursing through your veins called hope.

-M.Rene'

NaPoWriMo #4 Survival

Survival wasn't even in the question
before learning what artistry can do.

Painting was peaceful (even if trial by fire)
and the way you'd sing to me while I
doodled across the pages of your rhythms
was cathartic in ways I didn't know existed.

Survival requires healing - something
akin to breathing despite being ten feet
below sea level six days out of seven,

so really it's no surprise I was living
without any idea what that meant.

Had you and your box of paints
not found your way to my front door
I don't think I'd ever have understood
what I was doing here on Earth.

I learned so much from you
before you forgot how to survive.

NaPoWriMo #3 Use the Word "Golden"

This time around I have a little golden book
of poems and dreams for Spring's latest show.

It puts the Japanese garden one from last year
to shame, though it's pages have been less loved
before I got my hands on it. (I still miss the way

you'd paint my back covers and leave notes
across the margins of spaces I hadn't even
imagined crafting with yet). To be honest,

I still miss you in ways my poetry hasn't
even begun to explain in her aching songs.

Little Golden books might be things of
the future though, especially without you. 

NaPoWriMo #2 Breaking the Silence

Love, I haven't missed you
since Easter two years ago,
but someone tuned the

radio

to the song you
used to play me to sleep
with and I just

wondered

if you still carry around

paper hearts

and perfume- scented

guitar pics. 

NaPoWriMo #1 2019 - letter to younger self

The day's only getting started,
you have no reason to look so sad.

The bus isn't even here yet,
and classes will be smoother if only
you could give yourself a chance to
wake up from this sorrow.

You've got friends who actually care,
a family that's together in it's brokenness,
and enough love in your heart to heal
the entire world of everything it weeps for.

The day's only getting started,
and you completely control how it goes.