Sunday, 19 July 2015

I Present Some Clothes and The Poems of a Sleep Deprived Woman

Poetry seems to pour out of me when I am exhausted but can't sleep.  It's a particularly annoying state to be in so it may have an effect on what I write, but it seems to contribute greatly to what feels like deeper insight into my own head.  This makes sense really, as the fatigue will quiet and slow my brain, allowing me to focus on one idea, but the sleeplessness makes me restless enough to turn on the light and write it down.

Before I share another slew of first draft poems, I will share two days of outfit satisfaction.  It is pretty safe to assume, when you see me, that I am wearing Thrift Shop sourced cotton clothing quite possibly made by an underpaid person in a sweatshop.  Don't think this doesn't trouble me, but for now my best response to this is to buy it second hand.

I am rather awful at giving my poems titles.  A title always seems unnecessary to me except for that pesky purpose of cataloging.  If my poems have titles it is easier to find the file again when I want it but I suspect you can tell that my titles are just slapped on as an afterthought.

A Tree

A tree is radical.
It grows from roots-deep,
Wide-spread seeking stability, gripping rock and soil
As its branches reach, extend, grow  higher,
finding light.
The leaves reflect, gather, consider their enlightenment,
Drawing it in to nourish the roots that secure it to life.


The best way to never get hurt
Is never to love.
I don’t know about you
But I don’t have the ability to stop breathing
And still live.

Letting Go

There was a time when I thought I would break apart
Shattered from the pain in my heart
So deeply,
There were scars-
Which is perfect, really because
They remind me of all that
You taught me
About letting go.


Of all the unknowable things the most unknowable
Is Truth.
Many do not know it.
Many others think that they do.

Of all the unknowable people the most unknowable
Is you.
And the sum-total of what I know about you
Is that I will never know you.

Of all the knowable things the most knowable
Is suffering.
And everybody knows it.

My Pen

My pen chases away thoughts with
Lashings of ink,
Curling and flicking out to reach,
To touch,
Seeking to make contact with the sharp whip-crack
Of certainty.
 Once it is written, it is.


After it happened there was a gut-weight
Leaden lump
Of something that you turned to nothing.

At first, for a day perhaps,
I thought it was sadness.
Or hurt and then thought, no, it’s anger.

But it’s only the concrete certainty
That nothing was lost after all
Because there was nothing to lose.


We talk for hours and pour
As much of ourselves into each other
In the only form of intimacy that we have.

Knowing with mind and not body-
Prohibited by distance
There is only this kind of knowing available to us.

So we seek it, cherish it,
Caress it as a wave caresses the shore each time they meet
In the daily seeking and endless leaving.


  1. My favs...the pen, and the last line of waves!
    At least you get art out of insomnia...not all can say that.
    Thinking of you in the run up to the blogger meetup. xo Jazzy Jack

    1. Thanks! I am so tired but I have a few days to rest and be ready for my trip to Vancouver. I'm getting horrible headaches too so I need more of that cool mist, can you send some please.xoxo

  2. I like the first outfit a lot. I'd wear it!

    1. It's pink so I did think of you when I wore it! xo

  3. These are great colors on you, Shawna! Very different energy about the outfits - and I like them both.

    Your poems are wonderful, I especially feel the last one, there is deep feeling in it. You do a great job by doing what you love to do the most. Go on! And I hope you'll catch some rest soon!

    With love xxxxx

    1. I"m not getting the colours in my photos as accurately as I would like to lately. I'm not sure why other than that it has to do with the lighting-duh. The dress looks almost neon and it isn't and the capris look orange and they aren't. LOL oh well. xoxo

  4. this time i get a bit lost in your poetry - language-wise. so i have to read them a few times more to understand.....
    meanwhile i applaud your awareness of the sweatshop problem! awareness is the first step to change - as we all know :-)
    both looks are well curated in the colors and proportions!!!!!
    hug you!!

  5. Cute sandals - I know that wasn't the point of the post, but....
    Your poems are good - my favorite was My Pen. Perfect.

  6. Oh wow ... that's uncanny.
    I've been in the midst of a family drama ... haven't even opened blogger for a couple of days ... but this morning I did and the first post I caught up on was this one. "Knowing" and "After" are so appropriate to the situation it's amazing. You can rest assured your poetry had certainly touched me and spoken to me today.

  7. I do like My Pen -- it's really a haiku about a cat's tail, written by the cat, is it not?

  8. I use to become angry when I couldn't sleep, but then I decided to just go with it. I noticed that during those restless nights, my greatest ideas come to light. Your Love poem was beautiful. Thank you for sharing it with us.

  9. I am jealous of your prolific poetry pen! Thank you for sharing your muse :-) I can't remember the last time I wrote a poem. My favorite poet in the world passed away recently, Jame Tate, and it has really affected me and gotten me digging out his books again, which often leads to my own sorry attempts!

    I like your brown top very much, it looks like it has a subtle print?

  10. Oh you look fantastic.

    And your poetry was a delight to read. My husband use to write poetry, I wish I could get him back to it. Works the mind!

  11. I'm quite sleep deprived these days braid doesn't really work....I love your stories, especially one about love....loving hurts, but life without love is just not life.

    1. Thanks for reading and commenting. You are a dear and I always value and enjoy your comments. xoxo


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