Goddess | May 14, 2009
If not for the sunlight
today would be dark
shadowy earth
shadowy heart
If not for the sunlight
revealing your contours
I could not worship their angles
their curves
and strong landscapes
once so well known
now too far to reach
If not for the sunlight
I would be frozen
in these cold harsh words
that are new, but long known
and be damned my observations
and be damned your waning [...]
Goddess | May 4, 2009
My name is a good one, for sighs of desire.
It’s like a whisper spoken in the pillows.
In the throws of passion.
At the end of it all, as he is fading.
And he says it.
And it tingles up the back of my neck.
And it melts down into my heart.
Where he speaks it, again and again, his mantra.
Heather.
Goddess | April 28, 2009
“And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
~Anais Nin
Goddess | April 10, 2008
I posted the previous blog on my other website and member mbillard posted this poem in the comments. It really describes how I’ve been feeling the last few days.
What the Living Do
by Marie Howe
Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably
fell down there.
And the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and [...]
Goddess | December 1, 2007
I guess it doesn’t matter anymore…
I’ll say the words and watch them fall to the floor….
To the floor…
To the floor…
Close a window and open a door
Close your heart, just do it once more
Once more…
A door…
The window is to your soul
Too foggy to see through
The pain and the panes
Too easily shattered to hold
The door stays shut
The [...]
admin | April 24, 2007
whir, whir
and a whooshy sound too
ribbions blow to their song
wafting up and falling to the beat
they hang loosley from the fairy wings
sitting on the computer
dangling
bouncing
to the rhythm of the ceiling fan
admin | March 2, 2007
Misted Tea Cup by ~blueblacksheep on deviantART
The Never Happened Tea Party
It’s not really a matter of anger
Or distrust
Or simple manipulation
That you are aware of by intention
Only simple acknowledgment of the sad regression
And, Alice, how we’re out of touch
A truth of being separated by so much
A looking glass
And a rabbit’s hole
A mirror mirror
And [...]
admin | February 28, 2007
Time
Clock
Chill
Dark
Night
Still
admin | February 28, 2007
Green and blue
Swirls of you
Somewhere in oblivion
I wonder how you got there
The constellations twinkle
This star, that star
One small and nearer
Than the larger one that’s bright
Kiss a fool they say
And maybe I will tonight
And jingle go the jester bells
Chiming through the halls
So small and not so cheery
Echoing off of the walls
Your smile seems right
And your heart [...]
admin | February 26, 2007
In wonderland by ~stolenwings on deviantART
I am working through something right now. This just poured out of me - I'm sure it's got tons of mistakes, but I don't have the energy to go in and see what they might be. I just am going to leave it as is - raw, emotional, [...]
admin | February 1, 2007
Sometimes when I miss one of my fellas I will just open up an email message and write a fast poem to them. Whatever comes to mind.
I sent this to Robert yesterday:
heart, colors, beat and flutter
full and free and close to me
round and round, like a dizzy child
dance, dance, singing and wild
admin | February 1, 2007
This is a poem I wrote earlier this week. As usual it's been a busy week.
And it's cold in here.
By Heather Bartlett
And it's cold outside.
And it's cold in here.
Every word falls to the floor, frozen.
The accusations thud with uncomfortable weight.
Both of us feeling misunderstood.
Assuming the worst in each other.
That doesn't sound like us.
Or maybe [...]
admin | January 12, 2007
Cold Scrambled Eggs
by Heather Bartlett
Sometimes I really miss the coffee you used to make for us in the French press.
I miss eating scrambled eggs together, naked.
And watching you make scrambled eggs and your other sweet offerings in nothing but your torn flannel shirt.
Some of those mornings are so vivid still, in my mind.
The way the [...]
admin | January 12, 2007
Your ghost stops by from time to time.
To remind me of something I never forgot.
Whatever I am feeling, it has a sweet sadness.
It feels a little like regret without the loss.
Am I supposed to feel sorry?
Well, in some ways I am.
I feel the rush.
For a rush, it's pretty slow in some ways.
Warm ways.
I wonder.
How can [...]
admin | November 26, 2006
I've been cleaning a bit. Right now, my house is pretty neat, but there is always much more to do. Right now it's unlikely that anybody will stop by because the house is presentable. The guests seem to come when the laundry is piled and the carpet has not been swept and [...]
admin | October 30, 2006
A while ago I posted this sort of free-form poem which I titled “The Wild Gardener and Her Magic Seeds” - I have thought of it three times in the past couple of days, so I decided to repost it.
The Wild Gardener and Her Magic Seeds
I think of him and him and him.
It's dark outside [...]
admin | October 18, 2006
rush rush
suitcase and find unwrinkled shirts
the click of keys
the low electric hums and whirs
light too bright
considering
the sound of crickets chirping
the stout round pumpkins
fresh from the farm
crowded together
and the black cat stalks them
wondering what they are
admin | September 8, 2006
Tender floating down
Round, round, round
Sounds gently
gently
caressing my heart, my soul
Constellations
and the smell of honeysuckle
The feel of grass on the back of my naked arms
And my breasts, soft
And the sound of your voice
And the hopes inside of you
flowing into me
admin | June 4, 2006
Tilting my face skyward
I looked into your eyes
Enraptured by your gaze
And upwards I did rise
Our lips did press so softly
In your arms, I was embraced
My fingers did delight in
All the contours of your face
Our lips did press more hungrily
For a fruit forbidden
Want unfurled recklessly
And my pulse did rightly quicken
As passion rose
And blood did flow
To every [...]
admin | March 27, 2006
From: Heather Bartlett
Sent: Monday, March 27, 2006 8:44 AM
To: 'Bartlett, Robert E.
Subject: monday morning poem
I awoke from my bed, not because of a clatter
I couldn’t sleep because of my bladder
I looked at the clock, it read 6:38
And I ran to your room, but [...]
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