Poetry Friday – Time To Come

time quote 2Hello again, my friends! I’m sorry that it’s been awhile since my last post. I actually hadn’t realised how much time had passed. A month. Yikes! I was on holidays two of those weeks and then running around the other two. The running around hasn’t actually stopped; in fact I’m writing this as I wrestle my two-year old. He kicking my computer and turning it off because obviously I am ignoring him and he’s trying to get my attention. Sigh! Complicated, multi-tasking life… how is there never enough time? Well the fact that I am 8 months pregnant and prefer to nap in my afternoons than write surely makes things difficult, but soon enough this baby will be out of my belly and in my arms and life will still be chaos. Ha, ha! Flying by the seat of pants as most people do. I was going through some of my poetry and trying to find something to post that would go along with the time theme of today’s post. I found “Time To Come” and felt it appropriate. So, happy Friday! May your weekend be filled with many happy, chaotic moments. Please enjoy my poem!

❤ Melissa

Time To Come

As time unfolds the elaborate web,
in which the years will string,
the mystery of forgotten unwinds.
The passage from my youthdom
has carried itself out towards extinction.
I understand my adulthood to approach
with quickened seconds and to end
with seemingless endless moments.

Only the future becoming the past
will portray the way in which my predictions
were wrong or right.
Regardless of expectations or goals,
I am to be the person I will be
graduated from each day I live.

Poetry Friday – Beacon

Mary&DaveWed-473Happy Friday, once again! Hope you had a great week. I’ve been busy trying to put the final edits on my poem Beacon. This the one about my son I mentioned a few weeks ago to you. It has been difficult writing it because it took a total different direction than I was expecting. I had an idea in my mind of what I wanted to say in the poem, but when it came down to writing it all that I could get out was clichés. Some where in the middle of it, I just trusted the words and let the poem take over. Consequently it took the change it needed to and I managed to finish it. I probably could obsess over each word forever, but I feel confident enough in what I wrote to share with you all today. This poem is my small attempt to explain how I feel about my son, but in reality no words could ever come close to expressing my love for him. His innocence and purity refreshes me and his sweet smile melts my heart, every single day. My only hope is he grows up knowing how much he is loved by me and all those around him. Without further ado, I present, “Beacon”. Enjoy! I’d love to hear your comments and feedback. Take care!

❤ Melissa

*Photo credit: Wink Photography 


Surrounding darkness sinking in my skin
piercing my vacant heart,
silence unbearable,
loneliness insurmountable.
Until the day arrives,
I am encapsulated by your light.

Your beacon consumes me
bathing me in warmth,
never before felt.
Forever drawn to your glow,
every step illuminated in your presence.
The shadows that hung heavy on my heart
banished by your enveloping beam.

I never tire of the tiny reflection
fueling my now boundless courage.
Your purity carries me infinitely
for the strength of your cast
never dulls, never slows.
Forever blind
until your beacon sighted me.

Poetry Friday – A Rose

clipart-rose-Flower5 (1)Happy Friday once again! Hope you are all doing well. Happy belated Mother’s Day to all the mommies out there. Hope you had a great one. It’s poetry time again this week. ‘A Rose’ is the poem I am sharing this week. Flowers do remind me of Mother’s Day, so you could say I was inspired to post this one because of that; however, the poem itself doesn’t have much to do with Mom. Well unless you have feelings of suffocation and betrayal in your relationship than hey this is one you might relate to. Ha, ha!

This poem was one I wrote some time ago, but it is freshly edited. Whenever I edit an old poem, I am always amazed how much my writing style changes over the years. I don’t get as much time as I used to write poetry, but still my vocabulary, ideas and inspiration changes greatly. I used to focus so much on writing ‘poetically’ that I didn’t spend enough time making sure my imagery made sense and came across  clearly in my poem. As such some of my ideas were muddled and confusing. I hope that isn’t the case in this one that I am about to share with you. Please enjoy! I’d love to hear your thoughts if you’re willing to share them with me. Happy weekend!

❤ Melissa



A Rose

If you walked a hundred days
knowing the truth,
could you remain in one with a lie?
Would you be able to surrender
and succumb to save me?
If I clung to the highest cliff
by my last consequence,
would you leave me hanging
giving me one last explanation?

I am the rose frozen in winter
yearning for my growth,
to no longer hide,
I, surrounded by silvery snow,
waiting for the sun to guide me
wash me over
melt away.

I cannot exist
in this harsh environment
in blizzard haze.
My limbs frozen in ice.
I grasp the entrapment,
but do not know yet why,
I have fallen frozen so frequent.

A rose frozen
in the betrayal of her surroundings
never will be freed.

Poetry Friday – Time To Come

Hello everyone and happy Friday once again. Happy Poetry Friday! I feel like my life is playing out in fast forward these days; the hours in the day just slip away so quickly. Where is time going? I can’t keep up!! Messy house, events to plan, people to see, child to care for, blog to write, work to do, house to renovate. Yikes, yikes, yikes!!! And it’s such a gorgeous day out right now: the temperature is rising, the sun shining, birds chirping. I just want to escape it all and sit idol and quiet for as long as possible to enjoy it. But there isn’t time for that! No time! Speaking of time… I wanted to share a short poem with you in the spirit of no time while I attempt to take little time from you great people. This is a quick read. I’m off to finish my mile long to do list… last item on the list is writing. Again! So frustrated at the moment with that, but that’s a poem for another day. 🙂 Happy weekend my friends. Hope you are well and enjoy a quiet moment to yourself!

❤ Melissa

Time To Come

As time unfolds the elaborate web,
in which the years will write,
the mystery of forgotten unwinds.
The passage from my youthdom
has carried itself out towards extinction.
I understand my adulthood to approach
with quickened seconds and to end
with seemingless endless moments.

Only the future becoming the past
will portray the way in which my predictions
were wrong or right.
But regardless of expectations or goals,
I am to be the person I will be
graduated from each day I live.

Poetry Friday – Falls Down

Happy Friday everyone. Hope you are doing well. Last week was an emotional one for me because our family lost a member. I really wanted to blog about it this week, but I’m not quite emotional strong enough to dive into those emotions yet. They are difficult and I need some more time to deal with them internally. It certainly has opened my eyes again to how precious and short life is. Every day is a gift to spend with the people you love in the life. I don’t take that for-granted.  This week I wanted to share a poem with you that is about rebirth and allowing yourself to take that step forward to embracing a new and better life. Sometimes the hardest thing we can ever do is take that first step to wanting something more, something greater. That’s the feeling I wanted to capture in this piece. I hope you enjoy it. I wish you a safe, happy and peaceful weekend filled with much love. Take care. Thank you for stopping by once again.

❤ Melissa

Falls Down

I am so close
almost passed the world’s edge,
stood for hours, days, years,
now a moment too long.
Step once more no resistance,
only air whispering past my ears.
With the closing of my eyes,
all I have now, seconds.

Look up at this sky,
I’m faster now, in perfect silence.
Couldn’t you have held me all-embracing
ignoring the ending day?
Wouldn’t you just sever that ferocity
in words surrounding us?
Shouldn’t you weep just
once for murder?

Did I steady myself to fall
with conviction to you
or be alone?
Was that step so effortless
for desperation causes
or healing purposes?

Bottom of the end,
the womb of my birth,
establish my heart beat
and force my eyes open
with swift, new winds.

Poetry Friday – Delay

robert-frostHappy Friday once again my friends. I felt like it was time to share another poem with you. I just finished completing the final edit of it. My favorite work to edit is my poetry because there is a feeling I get when I find that perfect word with great depth that just makes the poem speak. It is powerful to use so little words and be able to communicate so much. I never feel frustrated working on my poetry, but rather a sense of calm comes over me. Not like when I edit my novels, but that’s a blog for a different today. Today is about poetry and more specifically a poem about the power of physical love, of living in the moment, not fearing the quickly fading future. Please read and enjoy! As always, I love to hear your comments or for you to share your poems with me. Thank you for taking the time to visit. Please take a moment this weekend to live in the now, relish it, own it, all too quickly it has passed and will fade. 

Happy weekend!

❤ Melissa


You cannot force it away,
resistance slowly defeated.
That I cannot face today
will approach in tomorrow.
Our perishable minds,
fading with time.
Don’t whisper thoughtful words
of forever remembrance.
Memories inevitably
slip into oblivion.
Even sacred moments
succumb to the abandon
and disappear.
As this evening’s sun exhales
its last breath of dusk,
do not waste yours
with promises of eternity.
Inhale the scent of my vanilla skin,
taste the salt off my collar-bone,
in these moments
our vanishing forever,
let’s delay tomorrow.

Poem Rewrite: “History” New and Improved

Hi everyone. Hope you had a great week. Here we are again, poetry Friday- Revision and Edit Note Edition. Last week I posted the original version of my poem, “History“. I spent the past week updating it to what I like to think is a much better version and as good as I can make it at this point. There were a lot of repetitive words like “that”, “when”, “and”,  as well as unnecessary words such as, “thinking of days before”, “simply forgotten”,”you are the historic”. To write great poetry, the useless words need to be cut out. Every word should have some importance to the imagery of the poem. “Simply forgotten” and “you are the historic” were much too obvious statements and hit the reader over the head with the message of the poem, which really is just bad poetry. It is implied throughout the poem the narrator is having difficulty writing about the emotions. Those emotions I had in my mind while I wrote it directly relates to a bad break up. At the end of the poem, ‘the historic’ is never recorded, so telling the reader they are ‘simply forgotten’ is redundant.

The next editing I did was to remove some confusing lines, such as, “I need a drink so I drown myself in water…”. These lines did not make sense upon review because during this part of the poem the narrator is expressing though much time passes they are still unable to write their feelings down. Though ‘drinking until you drown’ would take some time I didn’t feel I could portray this clear enough to keep it in the poem. So I deleted it. 

I don’t want to dissect this poem so much that I take the enjoyment of reading the new and improved version away from you, the reader. With that, I give the 2014 version of “History”. Please read, enjoy and feel free to leave me comments on how you like the new version. 

As always… thank you for reading and for sharing. Happy Friday! 

❤ Melissa


With the last breath of day
the fall of night,
I write history.
Falling into poetic release,
I am the historian.

My weakness for solitude
prevails in the night air
as I turn to liquid ink.
Succumbing to passage of unconscious thought
hoping upon revival
answers will be inked.
Though I walk this endless trail,
I am still lost in liquid ink.
Though a million years pass,
I am still lost in liquid ink.
Knowing I possess the immortality
dripping from my finger-tips,
history written.
I am the historian knowing no history
you, the historic,
never recorded.

Poetic Time Travel

20141204_143126Happy first Friday in December. My life is still crazy and feels stuck in fast forward; how’s yours? This time of year always make me reminisce of times before and I was looking back at one of my first poetry journals. The journal itself holds special meaning to me because it was the first present I’d ever received from my hubby. We’d only been together a few months maybe and I remember when he gave me the journal I thought to myself he was special. He knew how much I liked to write and so thoughtfully gave me a special place to hold it. This poem comes all the way from 2001 and is one of the first ones I wrote in my journal that I felt good about sharing. I was an angst filled teenager when I wrote this, and it’s pretty good starting place. I copied the original version below and thought it would be fun to take the next week to edit it and show you the new and improved version next week. In keeping with the time travel theme, the poem is entitled ‘History’. There are definitely some words within the poem that need to be made history too. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for stopping in and finding time to read in the hustle and bustle of approaching Christmas. See you next week with the better version of ‘History’ with my edit notes!

❤ Melissa



With the last breath of day
and the kiss now of night,
I write history.
Falling into poetic criticism,
I am the historian.
Thinking of days before,
you are historic.
Confused at what I am doing,
I turn to liquid ink.
Allow the passage of unconscious thought
hoping that when I revive myself
this will hold the answers.
My undying weakness to be alone
prevails in the night air.
I need a walk to clear the haze
so I take the trail round the world
to find myself still lost in liquid ink.
I need a drink,
so I drown myself in water
to find I am still lost in liquid ink.
I need a moment
so I allow a million years 
to find myself still lost in liquid ink.
Knowing I possess the immortality
pouring out of the tips of my fingers,
I have written history.
I am the historian who knows no history
and you are the historic,
never recorded or simply forgotten.

Poetry Friday Is Back

It’s that time again.. happy poetry Friday! Hope you all have been inspired to write some really great poems.

As you read this I will be up in Whistler at the Whistler Reader and Writer’s Festival well into my first seminar about self publishing. I am so excited to learn and make new connections with fellow writers and readers. I will blog next week about my experiences from this weekend. 

For now, it’s all about the return of Poetry Friday. A few weeks ago I was feeling a darkness in my heart and needed to exorcise it. No better way than reaching in deep and letting that black pour out. I consider myself a very happy go-lucky lady, but I am not afraid of exploring the sadness inside me once in a while. It’s healthy to let it out and for me the best way to do that is write it. It’s entitled “Demon” which is also kind of fitting as we gear up for Halloween coming in a couple of weeks. This piece is inspired by that devil on your shoulder telling you can’t/won’t/don’t/etc. But you can see what you get out of reading it. Enjoy!

❤ Melissa


I compel my body,
command it to shift.
It stands, resistant.
The voices near.

My sense are acute
his presence near.
My ears pound,
blood flooding,
The voice here.

His wicked surrounds me,
lips poison my thoughts.
I am weak.
I am failure.
I am powerless.

His tentacles close in
around my body,
my breath shallow.
His stinger injects me,
the poison thick.
I collapse in the weight.

My limp body
dragged deeper
in his black world.

My heart clings to
the last crevasse of light.

My Favorite Poem By Emily Dickinson

Hello and happy Friday once again. This week I wanted to share my favorite poem with you. I always have been a great fan of Emily Dickinson. I think I felt connected to her from a young age because she was a female poet and I was an aspiring female poet. I also admired her use of rhyme because self admittedly I sucked at rhyming. It just wasn’t my forte, but hey I guess I’m all about freedom and flow of words. “Because I Could Not Stop for Death” was the first poem I read of hers and it really struck a chord with me. I enjoy the simplicity of the poem and her imagery. I found it interesting how she describes her path to death and eternity as a simple carriage ride.

Please feel free to share your favorite poem with me. Thanks for stopping in and joining me for another Poetry Friday. Enjoy your weekend.

❤ Melissa

Because I Could Not Stop for Death
By: Emily Dickinson

 Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility – 

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess– in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun – 

Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle – 

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground – 

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses’ Heads
Were toward Eternity –