I give my heart

This weeks poem assignment is a love poem. I took a different twist. Please let me know what you think.




Brain dead at 16,
whole life ripped away,
family in mourning,
distraught and in pain
choosing to let her live on
gentle spirit, that always helped others
it's what she would have wanted,
her mother's tears stream
down cheeks lined with wrinkles from
laughter shared with her baby

Instruments ready, cold sterile,
those she is saving getting prepped,
multiple teams from the whole country gather here,
a moment of silence, a silent prayer for her soul
a solemn thank you for her gift,
final full death, the time is noted and charted,
one by one, the organs are removed
placed into my hands, then on ice to be sent
holding her heart in my hands,
it quivers, residual left over beats
from the girl it once belonged to,
teams rush to those waiting,
sew her up, a few tears escape

The final team arrives
gather my instruments, clean my table
take away my trays and leave them for
her final steps
make it home,
hug my children extra tight,
sleep a dreamless sleep
I see you that afternoon
divulge about my night
sober, somber you stare at me
pull me into strong arms, embracing me tight
I feel your love, another tear escapes me
for her ultimate sacrifice of love.

Is redemption possible?

New week, new poem assignment... This one was over bully's. A bully poem which was hard to write for me this week.  If you have questions email me.


Regrets collect
the guilt drags and tears me down
the cruelty of this terrified tongue
sliced you with a knife
of verbal precision
and cut you down

Never seeing the way
others shut me down
used and abused me as well
got into my ego
projected all my flaws onto you

Things done to me
actions that can't be changed
Hurting with a bleeding open wound
pushed it all onto you
punished because I couldn't tell the truth

Begging for redemption
trying to teach you all I have learned
how to overcome
weight of actions, of words
lashed out when younger

Tried to protect you
and toughen you to the world
from evil things done to me
But hurt you worse than anyone
and you call me sister
and we say "I love you"

Given your forgiveness
after divulging and letting down
brick and mortar
shut and suffocating
tears, hugs, and "I'm sorry's"
will never be enough
Now I will teach you how to love

Little Bear

So, we have an actual piece due Thursday in my creative writing class.

A poem, featuring an item from our childhood that moves the poem and also to name the poem that.. hence the title. I figure since I started this to share my work, I should even share it when its more of a rough draft as opposed to a finished product.

Well, here goes nothing.


Little Bear


tattered,
torn,
lace trim hanging
no longer attached to your little hat

one eye missing, one
black glass eye stares,
needing a stitch, drooping
near the missing strings of your absent smile

tears have drowned you,
giggles and dark secrets alike
have gone into your small ears
locked there and kept until I dared

Do they hurt?
The scars of aging
and of growing up?
The lessons we have both been apart of

being pulled, twisted
between my sisters and I's fights
the falls and spills
that we have both had?

worn yellowed fabric,
blue flower print almost gone
you sit on my dresser
my oldest friend until the end




As I said, it is a little rough, I'm still learning the correct way to make a poem, though there really seems to be no wrong way. Till next time, have a great day.

Let Go

I came across a piece written by a woman on Elephant Journal. I love that website. So many things I stumble on there that make me think. Different ways to approach love and loss and everything else. the piece I cam across was "She Let Go"  The poem can be found here.
www.elephantjournal.com/2014/02/she-let-go/


It inspired me. I felt that I needed to write my own version of this poem its very rough and I wrote it quickly on my iphone in my notes one early morning while I was close to the end of my shift at the hospital that I work at. The original is amazing and thought provoking. I, at the time I wrote this, was finally getting to a more healed place in my life after I started the process of my second divorce.


She let go.
She let go of what society dictated
and what was expected of her.
the confines of tradition that bound her
no longer had the hold it once did
she started to love her life
the way that she decided
and loved the way she wanted to love.
without convention
without restrictions
she freed her mind
and found herself
while crying under the pressures imposed on her
she healed herself and began to live.

Obligatory Introduction of blog

This is just a place for me to place pieces I create to have an easier way to share them and store them so they don't disappear. My co-workers and friends are interested in picking my brain and getting a different layer of Heather, so to speak, figured out. Why? I am not entirely sure, but I am getting to where even if it is bad I want the criticism to make me a better writer. I am only doing this for an outlet to get my creativity out. Painting helps, my obsession with music helps, but my very first love of writing is what I think I need to add that final layer to get that restless feeling out. Anyways, I have gone overlong in explaining why this exists now, if you like it cool. Follow me because I do plan to continue to add to it when I have the free time to do so. If you don't that is cool too, tell me what you didn't like or what I need to work on with my writing.