#women poets

You know what you’ve done

But to say it out loud

Is too brutal a reality

It would be suicide by honesty

And you are such a coward

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When I look back at my life

I only recognize it for a moment

And then it’s gone

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I love the analogy of the sun as consciousness. Consciousness is the sun, and we are all rays of the sun. Some rays might shine a little brighter, but it doesn’t matter! It’s not a competition because we are part of the same sun.

And maybe some rays awaken and realize, holy crap guys, we are sun, and some rays might be like, I don’t believe in the sun. Doesn’t matter. The sun has infinite patience. But someday when we all realize we are part of the sun, we might realize how powerful we really are.

Shine on like the beautiful rays of sunlight that you are. ☀️ xoxo Nikki

Art found on Pinterest - Retro Starburst from Art.com

Sleep child, close your eyes & dream. Today is over but, tomorrow will soon arrive again. No need to wait up, waiting for darkness to fade. Morning will come. You will change, becoming different from day to day, although all else in the world will feel the same…

Well, telling the secret would ruin the sunrise 
Don’t want to ruin the fun!
What if we lose our magic? 
What if we lose our innocence?

Telling would mean that we would have to deal with the world
That would love to burn us at the stake!
Saying we’re martyrs for an agenda we chose
But I didn’t chose to love you…

Pretty bold of you to say that I’m overreacting
Would only acknowledge my bleeding 
Accompanied by blood curdling screaming!

Because it began to stain your clothes
Left me to rot…
While you bought a new shirt.
Said it was a pity I died!
But, I’ve survived worse.

Just once, can somebody please

tell me how broken I look under these dim lights,

tell me they noticed the dark bags under my eyes.

Just once, hold my hand and whisper ever so softly

that you see them - all the demons battling

underneath the fabricated smile everyone believes.

Just once, can someone please

look beyond my flawless facade?

Burning Embers from my poetry book She’ll Find the Sky

“The words the happy say
Are paltry melody
But those the silent feel
Are beautiful—“

“The words the happy say,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“If ever the lid gets off my head
And lets the brain away
The fellow will go where he belonged—
Without a hint from me,

And the world—if the world be looking on—
Will see how far from home
It is possible for sense to live
The soul there—all the time.”

“If ever the lid gets off my head,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“Drowning is not so pitiful
As the attempt to rise.
Three times, ’tis said, a sinking man
Comes up to face the skies,
And then declines forever
To that abhorred abode,
Where hope and he part company—
For he is grasped of God.
The Maker’s cordial visage,
However good to see,
Is shunned, we must admit it,
Like an adversity.”

“Drowning is not so pitiful,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“’Twas comfort in her Dying Room
To hear the living Clock—
A short relief to have the wind
Walk boldly up and knock—
Diversion from the Dying Theme
To hear the children play—
But wrong the more
That these could live
And this of ours must die.”

“’Twas comfort in her Dying Room,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“There is a solitude of space
A solitude of sea
A solitude of death, but these
Society shall be
Compared with that profounder site
That polar privacy
A soul admitted to itself—
Finite infinity.”

“There is a solitude of space,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“That she forgot me was the least
I felt it second pain
That I was worthy to forget
Was most I thought upon.

Faithful was all that I could boast
But Constancy became
To her, by her innominate,
A something like a shame.”

“That she forgot me was the least,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“Down Time’s quaint stream
Without an oar
We are enforced to sail
Our Port a secret
Our Perchance a Gale
What Skipper would
Incur the Risk
What Buccaneer would ride
Without a surety from the Wind
Or schedule of the Tide—“

“Down Time’s quaint stream,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn’t care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears—
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity—“

“How happy is the little Stone,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson

“You cannot make Remembrance grow
When it has lost its Root—
The tightening the Soil around
And setting it upright
Deceives perhaps the Universe
But not retrieves the Plant—
Real Memory, like Cedar Feet
Is shod with Adamant—
Nor can you cut Remembrance down
When it shall once have grown—
Its Iron Buds will sprout anew
However overthrown—“

“You cannot make Remembrance grow,” The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson — ed. Thomas H. Johnson