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Magnetic Poetry Monday

would I if

I could be and do


and then some

is it like leaving

bread crumbs

on a wild path?


(Magnetic Poetry – Nature Kit)

Magnetic Poetry Monday

my soul longs for
fall’s full frosting
rustling trees
wet, withering leaves
murmur of the forest
dying, blanketed
beneath the brown


(Magnetic Poetry – Nature Kit)


For MindLoveMiserysMenagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt: to write a piece launched by this quote from Sherlock Holmes (the series):

Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them …..

Seventy times seven, blah, blah, blah. Have you ever done the math? I have. 490. That’s it. At this point I have more than fulfilled my quota of this mandate to forgive. Besides, I don’t see anyone standing in line to forgive me for existing. In fact, the hits keep coming, if you know what I mean. Here are a few gems from that hit list…

“Love the sinner, hate the sin…You know we love you. We just don’t agree with your lifestyle choices….You could change if you wanted to…You have an agenda…Stop flaunting your sexuality…It’s just a phase…You don’t deserve special rights…It’s because of you we have earthquakes, hurricanes, floods…the plague (I wish I was that powerful)…You’re an abomination…God hates you…You’re going to hell (kinda thought I was already there)…and my personal favorite; the one that rips through me like a hot poker through butter…I’m praying for you.

Please don’t. I’m trying to forgive you. I’m trying to not judge you. I’m trying to love you, but you make it so difficult.

Because there’s this too. “Love your enemies… If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them.” I fall short everyday. But that doesn’t mean I don’t keep trying; 490 times 490 times and counting.

One day I’ll get it right. In the meantime I am well aware of my flaws and weaknesses. I’m no angel…but neither are you.

And there I go again. Judging you for judging me. I guess that’s why we need practice at this forgiveness thing. I should have just said, “I’m no angel” and left it at that.


Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 17 September 2017

How do I love thee, life? I count the ways as if naming each thing might offer me a line to grasp; to anchor me in place when the recognizable signs start to slip away.

Those moments when darkness descends, there is you, tiny candle, sucking up air, consuming the wick, calling me home. When people are unkind, there is a smile and a gentle touch to remind me all is not lost. When there is suffering, and unimaginable loss in the wake of the storm, there is you, sweet, audacious nature, showing me that life goes on again and again with each passing season. Life goes on.

How do I love thee, life? With every breath I take of the air that I share with all things living. Though I am but a speck of dust, I have not surrendered myself to ash. I am an ember still, capable of warmth; a flicker of amber. Like autumn’s fading rose clings to the vine in sweetness, I cling to you, life. How precious each moment is. How precious you are.

Shi Sai Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 17 September 2017

she is not broken
the last few years had been hell
if you can call this living
when terror descended / when hatred triumphed
in a world so divided
the muse plays her heart
shades of gray
offering but a glimpse inside
It was true.
No one tells you it’s the little things that rip through your heart
impress anonymously
become self-serving
But it was revenge
between dusk and dawn
they can save us…if
like ice melting
it is all madness


A shi sai or ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the shi sai features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.

Magnetic Poetry Saturday

Today’s revelations from the magnetic word soup on Magnetic Poetry Online.

it is all madness
the frantic whispers
the bitter screams
of those crushed by
the lies of men from
sleepless to delirious if
there is no redress

like ice melting
she becomes liquid,
less herself, bleeding
from a broken heart
slowly dying, naked…
would that we could
look away

we innocently hand
over our power to
heroes as if only
they can save us…if
only we could trust them
and their feel good promises

between dusk and dawn
we rest our weary
souls, breathing deeply
by the light of the
moon, knowing the
sun will surely follow
night and day in harmony


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