Poetry Blog Post New Entry


Posted by colleen on October 19, 2009 at 10:57 PM Comments comments (4)


     scat ter ed in the wind

           like the leaves in    Fall

     smooth    and    suave

           they  drift  

                 along Ella Grasso Blvd

         as cars    stir      with each pass


Read Full Post »

stamped on (love for the last time)

Posted by colleen on August 14, 2009 at 6:21 AM Comments comments (2)

once in love with lines as white as paper

with the dirtied mirror that lied

told me how fine I was 

whispered promises of

a great love affair, forever

Love as is, come as I am 

or some other of bullshit

I believed

   value came wrapped in baggies 

   an eight ball held magic and my worth


no time or money left for my love

held all I had

the crack

Read Full Post »

my love

Posted by colleen on July 22, 2009 at 12:29 PM Comments comments (3)

This is my love

I didn't help the dragonfly 

immobilized on his back in the scorching sun

struggling to survive

his flaying wings barely even caught my eye

as if I should give a shit

I didn't gentle turn him to set him free

I didn't bother to put him out of his misery

I didn't magnify or amplify his torture

I simply faded at his time of need

I merely glanced as he trhashed

flailed, twisted and reeled

and ...

Read Full Post »

I was a secret keeper

Posted by colleen on July 3, 2009 at 9:54 AM Comments comments (4)

I was a secret keeper 

when silence was my savior 

shame my new companion

I carefully kept and rearranged truth

hidden under Strawberry Shortcake bedcovers

I perfected my smile

trained my eyes to sparkle

and wore a "fine" mask

to ward off questions 

to silence whispers 

No need to pull nails from their beds

for no one begged me to break

I sat huddled behind a door th...

Read Full Post »

questioning faith

Posted by colleen on June 29, 2009 at 8:26 PM Comments comments (5)

I sat in grey with the weeping

willows as the ducks begged for breakfast

and I had none

Hustle here head hung

eyes passing but never looking

makes me smile as I wonder

what the fuck am I doing here


in hallway 4 between rooms 5 and 6

Posted by colleen on June 19, 2009 at 2:04 PM Comments comments (4)

I bit back the black bile

massing inside my empty stomach

as I watch

this man in a white coat 

reach for the rug I stand on

and as the camellia tea wets my lips 

I realize

I am not ready to fall 

I believed

Posted by colleen on June 12, 2009 at 11:18 PM Comments comments (9)

she made the sun rise for 5 yrs

Caterpillars found new skin

and slowly learned to fly

inside her brownstone

on Ella Grasso Blvd.

Where the smells of earth

grounded me

And no one had to die 

I am obsessed (with)

Posted by colleen on May 26, 2009 at 10:49 AM Comments comments (2)

Sue Ellen's silk green dress 

the one kept

in the back of her closet

I saw her wear it once

beautifully it caressed her curves and

by the way she made it sway 

you could tell she felt pretty

shamefully, I crept into her closet

touched her glorious dress

lingered in the day old perfume

caught in the mesh of the fabric

and dreamt of wearing

such a fine garment in the sun


Read Full Post »

I am from... an ordinary snapshot

Posted by colleen on May 16, 2009 at 7:45 PM Comments comments (4)

I am from cracked pots

From clay, uncentered

from dirty hands

I am from straight pins and standing straight

from hand-me-downs (but not too many)

from paper routes and owning cities

I am from shots and cigarettes 

from my Grandpa's bar

from the 4th ward

filled with democratic asses

I am from the cock the crows 3 times

from lying and denying

From dust to ash

From Sisters and F...

Read Full Post »

a reading between scarred lines

Posted by colleen on May 13, 2009 at 12:50 PM Comments comments (6)

my lifeline was cut

by shattered glass

broken from the whiskey 

bottle you discarded at sunrise

when I was only three

scarred cross-stitched lines

where coarse blue thread once

tied the scraps of skin together

made it impossible for the palm reading 

to clearly say what day

I would be dead

Yet, I remember that day

walking with the wild

flowers swaying in the breeze

sun warmed ...

Read Full Post »