I am hiding from my favorite places
Sacred spaces
That one time brought joy

I took on the role of fool
Broke my own rules
Let myself become a simple toy

I escape to winter
This frail heart splintered
Weaker than you know

I turn from autumn
Whose leaves have fallen
To bury me in snow.

#poetry, #rhyme, #escape, #nature, #winter

Yet the distance is fluid, moving
You are the stone
Skipping across my waters
Rippling my reality
Creating waves in a world you’ve never known
I swear I’ve felt you here


There is no better place
To bury your secrets
Than beneath the pines
On a snowy January morn

There they can rest
While you carry on with survival
And the hope that come spring
You’ll have found the courage

To plant them as the seeds
That will blossom to new beginnings
Or perhaps the earth will be soft enough
To accept the dying dreams

And you will never have to tell
How close you really came.


I wrote my first poem when I was ten.
I still have it
It was written out of the desire to write
There was no need to share it
No hunger for accolades or recognition
Just a little girl
Wanting to make magic with words
She’s still here,
Buried a little deeper
Squished between deadlines & drive
Carrying her little notebook
Her pen…
A magic wand


Would you sing to me a lullaby
Of the land I used to know?
Would you whisper me the poetry
To carry me back home?

Would you hold me close and kiss me hard
Help me to forget?
Remind me with a gentle touch
It gets better yet?

I need to know the day will break
Over this forever dark.
I need to know you’ll bear the weight
Of this heavy heart.

I cry for all my fields of green
For low mountains and my sea
I need you now to help me somehow
Bring her back to me.


You are never more exposed
Than when what you want
And what you have
Collide on the edge of the moment
Between waking & dreaming

The residue of a wish
Lingering long beyond the dream
Forcing its way into now
Demanding strength
You never knew you had

Simply to rise
And leave the wish behind


Seeking the urge to run deep into the wild night
To meet the dawn among the brambles and boughs
To live by the light of the moon
Stealing sustenance from her silver

My shadow, my comrade
Sharing the same vigilante mind
It is a hunt for justice
For a forest that welcomes
And trees that dance to my song

I will not be broken nor made to abide in a society of sheep
Dancing in the face of my blood lust
Thinking their safe pasture
Will tame me.


They mock me
Because I take the time
To chase the sky
Pulling dreams from clouds
Hiding pain in its shadow

Did you leave
Because I dreamed too big?
Gave too much?
I see you there now
In the reflection of evening.

Have you found your greener pasture?
Where the waters run shallow
And faith can be ignored
By keeping your eyes shut?


Forever Autumn

We will have forever
Burnt umber fusion
Crystalline melody

We will have forever fire
No matter the ice
That hoards your veins
Crimson, frozen

Forever it will melt for me
Bleeding puddles like mercury
Poison to those
Who forsake the easy antidote

Forever up in smoke
Curling through an October sky
In the heat of bonfire flames we recline


The hunter watches over
Autumn pulls us under. Orion shines down.


Broken is the new beautiful.
Bruised and beaten
We wave our bleeding hearts like flags
Our sky the darkest solitude
We lie to ourselves
Believe in the romantic fantasy
Of a crazed lunatic
Who could only make love to a pen

Denying ourselves our small victories
We cry to unsympathetic shoulders
Hungry mouths who claim to eat our pain
Only to savour it on their tongues
Never swallowing
Spitting it back in our faces
Once they are sure they are more worthy
Of false sympathy
And second helpings.

But whole is a bowl I want to eat from
I’m tired of these salty tears
Of seeing joy through the liquid reflection
Of a head turned away.
I wear my scars as trophies.
Proof of my existence.
Validations of my worth.
They are my art
My story
They are love
They are joy
They are a life
Worthy of celebration.

Broken is the new beautiful
I am more than skin deep.


An invitation to madness
All work and no play
A prerequisite to sadness
Another page, another day

My muse has been made blind
In these white out conditions
I’m losing my mind
Uninhibited, no restriction

Should the pen win
Have my ink stain the snow
I’ll wear Jack’s crazy grin
To reap what she sows

I fear her unleashed
Into the wild
There’s no taming a beast
Who’s been caged since a child


Time freezes in the middle of nowhere.
Holiday spirit fighting icicles of distaste
The sand sticks to snow
The sky sticks to ground
There is no where else to go.

We are a captive audience
Our tongues stuck to steel
The dare
The only excitement to be found
We are miles away from nowhere

Isolation, desolation
Denial in a deep freeze
Nowhere is a scary place
If you think about it too long.

#Lost in Northern #Alberta

I’ve a confession to make. I fear I’ve not been honest with you. I’ve been prettying up my pain with prose, stealing from the poets, decorating my walls with a mirage of openness and letting you believe you know me.

In spite of my grandest desire, I am not a poem. I am a mess, an amateur graphic novel at best. Unlike the perceptions we like to paint, my failings are far from a song.

They are loveless and dark. They are selfish and harsh. They are a result of life. Alas…love has never broken me, nor has death stood upon my door step to await the arrival of my soul.

I am living, I am surviving, I am blessed. It’s a shame we thrive on the poetry of the heartbroken. There’s fantastic works to be discovered in the simplest side of life. The breath of a new day. The courage to live it.

The only person I’ve ever had to battle has been myself. The inner dialogue shameful & cruel. The only one to blame for this brokenness…is me. Imagine how boring the poetry!

My only claim to fame is perhaps the best poem ever.
I’m still here.

#prose #poetry

Truth is the double fisted lady who stands over you at the hour of your reckoning.

She is the hand that slaps your ass to start you breathing…

Just as she is the hand that binds your ankles, suspends you in midair, and runs the blade across your throat…

Leaving you to bleed out

Before she guts you.

It is madness, beauty and delirium.
It is salt in the wound, false flavor stimulator
The guilty hand of the masturbator
Hidden under the covers

Secret lovers
Star crossed manipulations dreamed up with dime store prophecy

She is too much for me
I am content
To let her lie


I wake to a moon
Pregnant with wishes
Swollen with secrets
Stolen through the hours
When my dreams grant me the courage I need
To visit forbidden destinations

Unlucky travelers cast upon silver constellations
In the Wilde gutters, belly up
Our sleeping eyes birthing visions of what could be
Our heavy tongues tasting foreign delicacies
The saliva of strangers, the romance of dialect
The wind against our bare skin
Denying the coming wake

Into the black dawn I rise
Ashamed to face the moon
To stand awake below the stars
They know the truth I’ll never speak
Left buried in the crumpled sheets
My insides alive with longing
Fearful it will be gone upon my return

Racing moon to moon
To revisit the gutters of my secret streets
Where the only hearts that need to be crossed
Are the hearts that will never die
Rising above what is,
To meet in a star crossed sky.


I know you feel it…
If you’re giving your life one inkling of the thought it deserves, you have to.
We are wasting it, you and I.

Sold by an illusion that has us believing it’s worth is compounded by suffering and sacrifice.
That if we pay our dues
We’ll receive our just rewards.

So we let our souls rot in the glow of numbers that will never matter.
Like the good soldiers we are, we march on
While inside we fight not to hear those whispers
The voices of the evil and the damned
Those who had the courage to say

"No way"
“Not me”
“Fuck you”

To every slayer of dreams who dared darken their doorway with vials of systemized thought.

I want to be like them.
I know you do too…

But the snake oil is strong
The hiss, a soundtrack shared by every broken spirit who shares space in our cubical row

I almost have it memorized
My belly in the mud.

#prose #poetry

To exist with no space between
A mesh of secret words, silent longings
Thunder in my heart
Felt beyond the white noise
Of this catastrophe
A brilliant, numbing symphony
Succumbing to the myth of me
You, my magnum opus
Your Resonance
My rhapsody
#NatashaHead #poetry #tashtoo