Tag Archives: Poetry

Afternoon Thoughts

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I sometimes wish
you would reach across the miles
to somehow smooth over
mountains of wrongdoings
evaporate
oceans of salty tears
and
shine sun rays
on the tropical rainforest of my heart
where the colours just haven’t been as bright
since the day you went away

Again.

But

I remember
how
my fingernails once left bloody crescents on my palms
how
my jaw ached from gritting my teeth until they were broken
how
your empty promises split my skin like the edges of paper
and then
I remember
how much I enjoy sleeping through the night now

But still

I

wish I could hold your hand and giggle once more
wind up at the bottom of another coffee pot together
whisper secrets and promises anew
while writing poems about ghosts that linger in the shadows
I
wish that I was still the one you turned to at 4 AM
wind up choking when I hear your voice
whisper your name to remember the taste of it in my mouth
while writing poems about a love that never made sense to me

Either.

You

pretend that I never happened
only speak my name as a curse
only look my way when time stands still
only hope to keep me broken-hearted
like a child.
But friendships are not like playgrounds
and long after the bell rings
you are going to remember me
if only to sing yourself to sleep
if only to hold yourself when you are lonely
if only to remind yourself of a time when you had a home
and

safety.

Now

I remember your name when I light my Shabbos candles
because no matter what, I still pray that you are blessed
I may not be able to look at the pictures yet
but the memories are never far from my mind
I will always look for you in a crowded room
I will always answer the phone when you call.
My heart will always be full of you.

I will see you in another lifetime
where our history together will be as light as butterfly wings
and we will be together again.

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This work, “Afternoon Thoughts” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Remember Me?

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It’s May and little sprigs of green are poking their heads out of the ground. The winter’s snow is finally gone (we hope!), and things feel fresh and new.

I’ve been fighting a losing battle with writer’s block over the past year. For the past year or so, poetry has not felt like my friend…which was weird, because I’ve always been able to turn to poetry as a friend, even in the toughest of times. But what to do when poetry itself is the problem? Hmm.

Anyway, spring is here and I am slowly experimenting with writing once again.

This is what I have been up to:

oratorealis

I got published in Oratorealis! Check out Spring 2017’s Issue 2.1 on page 18 and 19, and you will see my poem, “~4 AM~”! This is rather exciting for me, because it was a goal of mine to be printed in this publication, so achieving that has got the old creative juices flowing once again. I’m glad that “~4 AM~” found a good home, especially one that includes the work of some very talented artists.

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I’ve also been published in a zine that will be released on Mother’s Day (May 14, 2017) called, Soother: Femmes Grieving Family and Fertility. The poem, “Ritual For A Much-Wanted Child That Will Never Be Conceived” was the poem to end my writer’s block, and I feel both very good and very vulnerable that it is being shared with so many people. I’ve seen a preview of the zine, and it is gorgeous! It is definitely worth money, but it is being generously offered on a sliding scale starting from $0. If you are interested in ordering a copy, go here.

I was strolling through Facebook the other day and came across some pictures of me performing in Vancouver at the Verses Festival back in 2015. See?

me at verses

me at verses 2

Lastly, I am gearing up for a set at Bracelet of Hope’s Women to Women show in Guelph, on May 28, 2017. I’m looking forward to my feature there, as well as doing a little shopping in their pop-up boutique!

I hope you are doing well, my friends, lovers, dears, and queers.

Trees, Bees, and Babies!
Bethy
xoxo

Building Community Through the Arts

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On March 1st, 2017, I will be performing at the Kitchener Public Library at an event called “Building Community Through the Arts”, presented by Wilfrid Laurier University’s Women & Gender Studies’ department. There will be lots of great local artists and juicy community conversation regarding topics related to social justice. Please come out!

Event information can be found here.

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Untitled

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I never write poetry anymore.
I don’t remember how to.
I remember red wine and clove cigarettes.
I remember singing Tom Waites at 4 AM.
I remember counting syllables like a greedy child counts coins for candy.
Words don’t come easily now.
There’s only the hum of the refrigerator for company.
 

I only sleep with escape artists.
I pretend that I am not awake whenever lovers quietly leave
so that I never have to say goodbye.
They pretend that they will see me again.
We pretend that red wine stains come out of white winter coats.
Nothing is final –
Except my unwelcome solitude.
 

My special talent is turning inside-out.
Let me show you my entrails.
This is my heart.
These are my veins.
These are the hungry ghosts that play between my organs.
I call them my emotions.
They don’t call me anything at all.
 

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Is this your image? Please let me know so that I may credit you.

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This work is licensed, “Untitled” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Upcoming Events Avec Moi

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I’m a busy little Queen B these days, and over the next few weeks, there are some events taking place where you can find me, if you want to!

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First off, Precious Blueberries, you can find me facilitating two workshops at the Birth and Beyond Conference in London, Ontario from October 20th-22nd. The first is entitled, “Conceiving Your Story: Telling Tales” and the second is “Birthing Your Story: Telling Tales”.

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If you still haven’t gotten enough of me at the Birth and Beyond Conference, you can catch me hosting their Birth House event, where the birthy folk will be showcasing their amazing talents such as spoken word, dancing, singing, storytelling, and so much more! 

pussycat-lounge

What’s new, Pussycat? Whoa-oh-oh! You can find me at the Pussycat Lounge in Hamilton, Ontario, celebrating women/wimmim/womyn/womxn who love women/wimmin/womyn/womxn. No matter your gender identity, you are welcome to take in the music spun by DJ Michael Simla and the creative work of Debra Anderson and myself. It’s going to be purr-fect!

Trees, Bees, and Babies!

Peace and Blessings!

Bethy ❤

There’s A Country & Western Song In Here Somewhere

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They say that when someone’s been stabbed
it’s safest to leave the knife blade in the wound.
The weapon acts as a plug to keep blood in the body,
and additional organ damage can be caused by pulling out the sharp edge.

In the movies, the hero pours whisky on his own pierced flesh,
grimacing as the alcohol stings his slash marks –
makeshift antibiotics for his barely-there medical care.
Hypovolemic shock never sets in before the bad guys are brought to justice.

I’ve been staggering around with a knife stuck inside my body.
Even though my muscles have stopped trying to force the foreign object out,
and my skin has grown over the place where the blade entered me,
I can never forget the feeling of being punctured.

There’s a tourniquet around my heart, Baby,
But I’m still bleeding out over you.
I pour bourbon down my throat but it doesn’t heal the nerve damage.
I think this time the bad guys just might win.

bloody-yellow-melon-killed-by-knife-wound-with-blood-metaphor-stock-photo Stock Photo.

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This work, “There’s A Country & Western Song in Here Somewhere” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Morning Song

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The juicy sound of the cat barfing
raises the hairs on my neck before I even open my eyelids.
I check the sheets for menstrual blood stains as I make the bed
and then my piss splashes in the toilet bowl like a golden tsunami.
The sting of peppermint toothpaste attacks my senses
while I brush and spit the remains of a restless night into the sink.

There is nothing delicate about morning.

The scent of freshly ground coffee beans
competes with the fragrance of the freshly used litterbox,
and the milk has gone as sour as my love life.
Yesterday’s dishes are piled in the sink.
Yesterday’s ashtray is overflowing.
Yesterday’s used condom sits in the wastepaper basket,
and I’ve been wearing the same nightgown since Tuesday.

There is nothing more revealing than the bright light of morning.

In the steaming shower, soap bubbles trail between my legs,
while I lean my forehead against the cool tiles.
My muscles are like fists,
unclenching one by one,
And I think for a moment, of
feline vomit
period stains
peppermint
sour milk
golden bars of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains…
…and I think of morning.

There’s nothing quite like the dawn of a new day.

morning
image by King of Wallpapers.

Creative Commons License
This work, “Morning Song” by Beth Murch, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.