cross posted poems and stuff.
Change will come, as always,
may it be a warm breeze and sunny flowers,
may it be the thaw of sadness to sweetness,
may it be gentle laughter with good friends.
Change will come, as it must,
as it does,
as we focus our eyes elsewhere
distracted by the pain
Of what we hold tight.
Change will come,
Blowing those husks away
Revealing these spaces
scoured and cleansed
where there is now
Room for new things.
-Owl Miller
Published on Facebook March 1, 2014
Stupid poem that won't fit itself into a neat structure and be good. No. You have to get all messy and emotional and make me cry, make me search my psyche for what is wrong with my life, why can't I just tritely, neatly produce you, fully formed no revisions? Why can't you just settle and BE? I don't want to pin you to the page and get you all over my fingers. I don't want your messy emotions dripping onto the floor. Damn you stupid poem, why do you have to reflect my life?
-Owl Miller
I pout. She laughs,
Then sighs and touches my shoulder.
There are no more nights this week for us my love
The dishwasher, the recital, the committee meeting, the kids
Our husbands are jealous even though they have agreed
And need to be soothed with affection and attention.
And for now, we've had this and it has to be enough.
That tiny edge of pain sweetens our time.
I take pleasure with you my love,
Then I take my leave,
So I can return.
-Owl Miller
may it be a warm breeze and sunny flowers,
may it be the thaw of sadness to sweetness,
may it be gentle laughter with good friends.
Change will come, as it must,
as it does,
as we focus our eyes elsewhere
distracted by the pain
Of what we hold tight.
Change will come,
Blowing those husks away
Revealing these spaces
scoured and cleansed
where there is now
Room for new things.
-Owl Miller
Published on Facebook March 1, 2014
Stupid poem that won't fit itself into a neat structure and be good. No. You have to get all messy and emotional and make me cry, make me search my psyche for what is wrong with my life, why can't I just tritely, neatly produce you, fully formed no revisions? Why can't you just settle and BE? I don't want to pin you to the page and get you all over my fingers. I don't want your messy emotions dripping onto the floor. Damn you stupid poem, why do you have to reflect my life?
-Owl Miller
I pout. She laughs,
Then sighs and touches my shoulder.
There are no more nights this week for us my love
The dishwasher, the recital, the committee meeting, the kids
Our husbands are jealous even though they have agreed
And need to be soothed with affection and attention.
And for now, we've had this and it has to be enough.
That tiny edge of pain sweetens our time.
I take pleasure with you my love,
Then I take my leave,
So I can return.
-Owl Miller