My Heart


My heart is not glass
the hammer swings yet doesn’t shatter
but the reverberations still linger and sting
my heart is not a dragon
its fierceness and fire are not eternal
its basilisk gaze turned mainly in on itself
my heart is not a sport
no soccer ball to be kicked around a field and then stored away
until next time you feel like playing
my heart is not a machine
with cogs and bits that whirr
my heart is not …
so many things
what it is
is bigger than possible
and softer and stronger than imaginable
and made of velvet and iron and layers and locks and ice and storms
and the deepest darkest desires
smooth and bitter as chocolate
my heart
is beautifully blatantly displayed
yet, like the moon, some parts are hidden
but always
seeks the light
my heart
is mine



About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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2 Responses to My Heart

  1. Angela says:

    Love these lines:
    “my heart
    is beautifully blatantly displayed”
    and the message of always, always seeking the light. Beautiful!

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