Morning Write

a hot coffee, the bright natural sun light to bring in the new day, and the blank page: the perfect recipe to pick up a pen and write

Fresh French roast vanilla fills my nostrils—slow inhale…. ahhh, exhale…

I sit pretzel style in the middle of my bed, balancing my journal on one knee

as the sun’s rays burst through the window blinds

photo by Toa Heftiba via Unsplash

Written for Three Line Tales hosted by Only 100 Words

Tell Me What Depression Looks Like

Yesterday it was pizza

Tomorrow I’ll crave Chinese

I’ve got to remember to renew my gym membership

But I stop for fries and a latte instead

Credit card statement says I spend too much on food

Self-sabotage my biggest demon

And your voice a thousand ocean breezes away

Whispers, Don’t get fat

As I scavenge my purse for the buy-1-get-1 spicy nuggets coupon

I’m not hungry, I want to sleep

I’m bedridden, and you’re too far to push me out

The other side of the pillow crosses borders

And somewhere you lay your head

Dream of me in an itsy bitsy teenie weenie—

I hate to disappoint, it’s a bit tight

Can’t pull it over my hips

My stomach growls louder than

My heart beating against me for letting you go

But you promised you’d come back

And I promised I wouldn’t get fat—

I guess we’re both liars

New Laptop…New Me

Frantically, her fingers scurry across the keyboard—

And she types.

The first words to come to mind—

Those cohesive and incohesive—

She writes.

As much as she can—

New metaphorical pen in hand—

Because it’s been so long.

Months—

Years, really—

Since she’s seen so clear.

So she types—

And it feels nice.

#ThrowbackThursday Poetry: No Weapon

“Behold, I have created the blacksmith who blows the coals in the fire, who brings forth an instrument for his work; and I have created the spoiler to destroy. No weapon formed against you shall prosper, and every tongue which rises against you in judgment you shall condemn. This is the heritage of the servants of the Lord, and their righteousness is from Me,” says the Lord.
Isaiah 54:16-17, NKJV

Photo by wu yi on Unsplash

God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt.
The blind blessing we recited
as children over spilled food
on the dirty linoleum before
placing it back in our mouths,
swallowing with the confidence
that because God made it,
we cannot die.

But did God not create man,
and does he not hurt me
every day? From his heart
brews my downfall.
Date rape—
White supremacy—
Mass shootings—
A black, bitter coffee
he drinks with grit,
though it’s still boiling.

Shall I eat this bread
retrieved from a floor
on which a murderer may tread,
dragging my family and me
in a trail of blood behind?
God made him, right?
He cannot hurt us.


A revised version of the untitled original poem published February 4, 2015…may revise again later.

Sweet Heat

Love Tanka #11
(I believe I’m up to 11…)

We don’t talk about
the humidity—sitting
in his lap, panting
like dogs. He suggests no clothes—
A wink. I chuckle, he smiles

A Kiss in Your Pocket: Zeal (#AtoZChallenge #LovePoetry)

Zeal

I’ll never tire
of hearing you say it—each
morning, knowing you’re mine

2019© Nortina Simmons

A Kiss in Your Pocket: Yes (#AtoZChallenge #LovePoetry)

Yes

You had your answer
before you dropped to one knee,
flashed the ring, asked the question

2019© Nortina Simmons

A Kiss in Your Pocket: Xerophilous (#AtoZChallenge #LovePoetry)

Xerophilous

Run away with me—
to the arid, dry terrain—
hop on back of my
motorcycle, I will show
you the world they keep hidden

2019© Nortina Simmons


xerophilous (adj) – thriving in a very dry environment

A Kiss in Your Pocket: Wish (#AtoZChallenge #LovePoetry)

Wish

Two years ago, I
dreamt of romance, adventure,
of chasing a love
across the world—two years I
dreamt—who’d have thought it’d come true

2019© Nortina Simmons

A Kiss in Your Pocket: Virgo (#AtoZChallenge #LovePoetry)

Virgo

You’re so beautiful
in the moonlight—the stars and
constellations can’t compare

2019© Nortina Simmons