Looking at the Moon

One year ago……

Chimera Poetry


When I was little I used to look up at the moon

and think its face was gazing back at me

and that we were getting to know each other

I thought that I would learn how to expand and contract like that someday

it was another one of those mysterious things I thought I would understand once I was

All Grown Up

knowledge automatically deposited on your coming of age day

and absorbed somehow

I also waited for the comfort to settle over me like a gauzy scarf

the at ease me to emerge

the being relaxed in my own skin instead of endlessly dreaming of someone else’s smooth moves and walk and voice and a realization of what that joke meant…

when I (finally ) had the answer and didn’t stutter and blush

or decided to (finally) take a stand and

dare reply back to a snide verbal…

View original post 73 more words


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. Not.....me. 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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