National Poetry Writing Month: Week Four

And so it draws to a close.

It has been years since I wrote consistently every day. When I was young, I wrote every day because I loved it, but as I grew up, quality seemed to be more important to me than fueling my passion regularly. I became a victim to the belief that you must “wait for your muse to come”.

I might as well have waited for my Prince Charming/Knight in Shining Armour to show up while I was at it.

I’d say for sure that this month taught me that it isn’t about always churning out good stuff, because the reality is, you will make crappy poetry. No matter what. But it’s better to exercise that writing muscle and then look to find the great lines. The fabulous lines. Find the lines that really strike out. And then those lines, you can use elsewhere. Or not at all. It’s all up to you.

In any event, I will definitely try to write everyday now, whether it’s a poem, to-do list, story, or otherwise.

Without further ado, here are the poems for Week Four:



A new horizon, I look beyond the veil.


I will finally a part of this new world,

and then suddenly,

it’s like slipping on glass

& swallowing razor blades.


Into the darkness.

I am swallowed down.

Cool at the surface.

Hollow within.


Dancing around you,

tip-toe-ing over daisies.

We stand so close

I can barely breathe.

Am I a part of you?

Can I let you in?


….Coca Cola like it was nothing…



like black ink,

spreads through my veins,

consuming me whole….



and an old pair of dirty boots

Dirty in the air,

crystals in my lungs.


I miss the smell of you

in my lungs…


Stay safe and insane, my dears ❤


National Poetry Writing Month: Week Three

A sleeping Brenna and her Rosey

I’d have to say that this has been one of the most difficult weeks I have had in a long time. Not only have I been grieving, which is like trekking through an unknown jungle – you don’t know what it’ll do to you – but I was also going through an interview process for a new job doing custom alterations. About two hours after Rosey passed on, I got the phone call asking me to come in. Since then, I have accepted the position and had my first shift yesterday.

In a way, I feel as though Rosey passed on in order for me to really start becoming the person I need to be, and who I always wanted to be. I miss her so much and love her with all my heart, which is quite evident through all of these poems and excerpts, but I am excited and intrigued to see what the world has in store for me now.

“When a chapter ends, a new one begins.”

Here are my poems and excerpts from Week Three:



A sniffle. And a cough.

My tiny little friend, I worry about you often,

but especially now, as you sputter little garden hose & hack up slime.

Poor baboo. Get well soon.


Cannot write tonight, because without you, I am nothing.


….and there you were.



Kissing me.

Rubbing on me.

Gods, it felt so real


Today was a lot of firsts,

and never-agains.

But I know now that you will always be here.


I love you ❤


Day one,

day two,

day three.

Counting the days I survive

without you.

Hoping one day

I don’t need

to count the days away.


…Thank you for visiting me in the night. Please don’t stop.


So much laughter. So much new.

“When one chapter ends, another begins.”

I know you are with me always.

I love you. ❤


A Dust in the darkness,

a walk alone.

Through the sands,

toes covered in sand,


White dress dancing

in twilight,



And a calm.

She awaits.

I awaken.


Thanks for stopping by and having a read. Lots of love.

Stay safe and stay insane.

National Poetry Writing Month: Week Two

I wish I could start this whole thing off on a light note. But unfortunately, my cat, my little girl, Rosey Posey Prather, died this morning. It was quite sudden.

She lived a good long life. She would have been 17 this coming August.

She was my birthday present in the first grade. When I opened this big box, I found that it was filled with cat toys and food dishes. I was so thrilled. My birthday is during the week of Christmas, so we waited until the first week of January to go to our local humane society to pick a cat out. January 7th, to be exact. I knew I wanted a black cat and it had to be a girl. I walked in and looked around at all the cats – and there she was.

A little tuxedo cat, about 6 months old. She was the only girl in the whole room, and her sister had been adopted the day before. She reached out to me, and my life was never the same. We were two peas in a pod. It might sound silly to some people, but she was my first best friend (after my mom, of course).

She is….was my whole world. I gave her all the love I could give her and more. She was my everything. Gods, I miss her so much already.

In honor of her,I thought I would share the entire poem I wrote about her on the first day of this month.

I know I am home

when I hear your sudden scramble

to the door & tight “meow” as

I enter.

I feel safe

when I hear your stretching moan

underneath the bed at 2am.

I find it cute

when you look at me

begging for treats,

even though I just gave you 6.

It makes me laugh

when you get so picky about

your water.

“The fresher the better”.

But my favorite thing about you

is how intuitive you are,

especially after a long day –

you gracefully next to me,

a wave of purrs rush over me,

How your fur can be shiny & silky

still amazes,

my little Tuxedo cat.

Your sweetness reminds

me that I am not alone,

as you look @ me,

only me,

as if I am the world.

16 years have passed since

our fated meeting.

I know our love is

a ticking clock.

But my hope is that our love

will surpass us,

the world,

the galaxy,

and maybe even the cosmos.

Love you always,

my precious Rosey. ❤



Here’s the snippets from Week Two of National Poetry Month –



Lips stained insolence,

Spilling out ignorance.

I try to wash you away.

But I guess ordinary water will not do.


Imaginary conversations sipped at 2am,

wondering when our eyes will shut


Let us remain in conversations until the lights go up.


It’s almost as though we are fire.


….I shouldn’t be wishing my skin would dissolve in the pit of my own stomach acid.


…Jumpin’ out of this sweatsuit,

into a space suit,

as I shoot off acute.


Are we brunch on a Tuesday at noon? Are we picnics placed delicately by a clear blue lake?


Heart over mouth.

Eyes go blind,

thinking of all of the stars

in your galaxies…


Give your loved ones a hug today. Value them. Love them. Stay safe and stay insane.

Thank you for all of the wonderful years we shared, Rosey.

Love you always.

It’s not what I thought it’d be.

It’s not what I thought it’d be.

I always saw golden princesses, bathed in light. They wait for him, their golden half, to come.


It’s not at all what I thought it’d be


I remember my boyfriend telling me he loved me after I agreed to be his girlfriend. I remember my mother saying the same every day of my life, at bedtime, after phone calls, after I graduated high school. I remember a lot of people saying it to me.

I remember it because I could not understand it.


They say it’s easy, or it’s hard.

No one says it can be both. No one says it can be the sunlight of a summer day, silently peeking through your window in the early morning, and it can also be a tornado storm with lightning, blazing down trees and family farms.

They say that family love is there, friend love is learned, and your true love will come. You’ll see them on first sight, the greatest gift to you.

The golden half.


No one ever said that that golden half, that great gift, the best thing that could have ever happened to you, could be a friend. A companion of life, not a lover.


I saw him. First sight. I knew we’d be good friends someday.

How did I not know he’d still be here, 3 years later?


I am not a princess in white. I am a warrior, with scars all over and armor worn out from many battles, strong as ever.

I did not need saving. But he did it anyway, without even knowing it.


I love this man.

And he loves me.


My other half.


We don’t need sex.

We need silly moment that follow horrible moments. We need kisses on our foreheads when we are stressed. We need ridiculous nights where we are irresponsible and don’t give a damn about what other people think. We need each other, not societal constructs from under the moon.


It’s not at all what I thought it’d be.

It’s perfectly imperfect.


It’s not what I thought it’d be.

But it’s exactly what I needed.

From Day Into Night


Trickling down from the dark blue

into wild violet

blending into passionate red

feeding into the oranges and yellows that are the last memory of

The sun.


I look at that moment happen every day as I take the long walk back to my apartment.


Men scream slurs and derogatory terms at me

a touch of loud radios

the screech of a motorcycle

That is the symphony.


Breathing in car fumes and softly cooking food, I walk. I think.


A cold customer, imagine of a cake in their face comes to mind.

I wonder what tomorrow brings.

Will I see you again? Will we really tango this time?


I walk from day into night as the sun makes its exit,

the moon takes its place –

sitting in its guard tower as

We walk mischievously through the shadows it cannot reach.


I walk through the night, hoping to see your face.


I walk through the night.

Pinterest Weddings: So, I won’t be getting my “wife card”.

Confession time: I have never pinned anything wedding-related on Pinterest, nor have I ever looked in the wedding section on Pinterest. This has not ever been a desire of mine at any point in time.

…..Am I going to get my lady card revoked now? #whatislady

A status from 2 months ago.

A commenter told me I would never get my “wife card”.


Me not planning a theoretical wedding when I haven’t even met anyone with whom I’d like to share that commitment with, on a website that often doesn’t have their sources listed with their images, means that no one will ever desire to marry me.

….Am I the only one who thinks that logic isn’t sound?

I mean, did anyone ever stop to consider that this is perhaps not a life goal for me, that I have actual dreams that don’t involve me committing my entire life to another human being? I am all for commitment, which is why I am often put more emphasis on my relationship with someone and our commitment for one another rather than on whether they are “The One”.

And I feel like that should be an approach everyone should take – Wouldn’t you rather worry about experiencing the relationship than stressing out about whether this is how the rest of your life will be? That’s what I’d prefer doing. This could last 2 months, a year, 8 years, 20 years, the rest of my life. Who knows. I want to live those moments presently, and without fear. And if one day that person I spend my moments with wants to make our commitment to be more official, more tax-friendly, that’ll be a conversation for that moment.

Until then, I’d rather look into MFA programs for Creative Writing, dream up design jobs, and leave marks over all of the countries and cities I want to visit someday. And if that means I will never have a life partner, so be it. I’d rather be myself alone than pretend to be someone else just to have someone by my side.