He always comes when I call, no matter the hour.
His hand never needs to knock on my door
Because I pace the hallway until he arrives
His car lights aren’t even off before I am reaching for him
He always tells me that I am beautiful.
He compliments the way my home always smells of herbs.
His smile is as wide as the moon.
When he is with me, it’s like nothing else in the world matters.
When he leaves, he always blows me a kiss.
He promises that he will come back any time that I need him.
He knows that even though he has left me satisfied tonight,
It won’t be long until I want to eat pizza again.
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This work, “My Craving” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
“Women hold up half the sky” – Mao Zedong
You already hold up half the sky,
What more could they want?
It’s not enough that you keep the planet from closing in upon itself
You also have to prepare food for the next meeting
Clean up the dishes after the last meeting
Hold up three quarters of the sky (or more) when a comrade goes to the bathroom
Goes for a cigarette
Goes for a nap
The Revolution needs you to carry picket signs, posters, and guns
But you still have to carry the babies, mops, and coffee cups…
…and, of course, half the sky…
And then, sometimes, your bones become unhinged
The weight becomes so great that you break apart
You spend each moment triaging crisis after crisis
Taking care of everyone but yourself
No longer caring about Revolution
Only praying for a satin-lined casket to finally rest your broken body in
Maybe then, the men will carry you.
If the sky seems to be drooping down these days
Dragging on the ground a little
Getting a tad muddy here and there
Remember, Comrades, that guerilla warfare relies on using dish towels
As much as it does political discourse
And that no one can plan an infantry attack
Unless the infants are actually put to bed first
If you want Revolution outside
You have to make the Revolution happen inside first
If men want to engage in an act of resistance
Let them start by making dinner
Wimmin are worthy of respect
We deserve to be treated as equals
…we hold up half the damn sky.
Is this your image? If so, please let me know so that I may credit you!
This work, “Half the Sky” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Sometimes, I talk to plants.
Rough hands and sharp tongues
Cannot shear through leaves and stems
And so I know that my secrets are safe
With dandelions and plantain
People cast confidences on the wind like corn silk
And like to rip trust out at the roots
I understand the magick of herbs
Petals make potions
Resins make remedies
I can speak the languages of honey, vinegar, oil, and hot water
Passionflower smiles at my heart’s release
Chamomile dries my tears
Calendula caresses me like a kindly mother
People are so much harder to comprehend
Their words clang in my ears like lids on boiling pots
And their prickles hurt me far more than nettles
I wish I could trust humans like I trust fungus
I like that lavender always kisses me back
And ginger gingerly warms my hands on cold winter days
Careful not to break my skin
Or my heart
Sometimes, I talk to plants.
I like that they listen
I like that they talk back to me
Someday, the plants will hold me like I hold them now
And we will belong to each other
Royalty-Free Stock Image
This work, “I Talk To Plants” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Check out these rockin’ pics from my feature at The Brant Rant’s Anti-Valentine’s Day Slam!
All these photos were taken by Colleen Rintoul Photography. If you want your own sexy artist pictures, check out this photography goddess’ website here: Colleen Rintoul Photography. I can’t recommend her enough – gorgeous, gorgeous work!
Hello, My Little Blueberries,
What good is it to have a blog if you can’t occasionally ask strangers for money, right?! I don’t want to be “that guy”, so I’m only going to post this once. If you feel compelled to clean out your pockets and send me your bits of string, pocket lint, laundry change, etc., please follow the link to learn more. If you like the reassuring feeling that full pockets give you, I promise I will still continue to churn out free, mediocre poetry for you to read as you poop on your break at work.
Dude, courtesy flush!
Help Queen B To Buzz Off to CIPS