NAPOWRIMO #17/30- UNSAID THINGS 2

Unsaid things 2

 by Ieisha McIntyre

One can always recognize hate.
Look closely.
The face of hate is that same ghoul that haunted
your childhood dreams and chased hope from your
heart.

Love is the thing that shifts, changes
transforms and requires that ones eyes adjust,
retrain, refocus. So stunned
we are transfixed
left in doubt, our myopia, makes love peculiar
and enemy in our sight.
too terrorized to shift off our center and turn to the muddle
of love
and
away from the method of hate--
We sit in the darkness of our minds
eyes scaled and souls weighted.

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NAPOWRIMO #16/30-UNSAID

Unsaid things

by Ieisha McIntyre

Step into your blessing,
know that it will free you and alienate you.
Know that you have no choice
 and every opportunity
not to receive.
Know that it is a gift.

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NAPOWRIMO #15-HOPE

Hope

by Ieisha McIntyre

The face of hope-
more beauty than can be believed.
At the sight, one bursts into tears
believing themselves split to the barest particle of themselves.
struct dumb-while weeping
profound silence split by sudden joy.
sudden as laser light bursting through the darkness-sudden.
Sheer grace and supple.

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NAPOWRIMO #13/30 - MICRO

13/30

by Ieisha McIntyre

The world 

is

 so much simpler

 than 

water and soil.

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NAPOWRIMO #12/30-MICRO!

I've decided to experiment in the interest of catching up and writing in a more micro way but, I also want to see what happens if I write one independent line at a time.  So, here are the first of these.  If you follow me on twitter, you may have seen these already.  If not the lines that follow will be new.  Enjoy!

#12/30

by Ieisha McIntyre

Because,

 I saw God

 at the bottom 

of a teacup.

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NAPOWRIMO #11-ALABASTER WOMEN

Alabaster Women

by Ieisha McIntyre

Alabaster women bathe at sunset in
the river of light and shadow.
take time to rub moonstone over their
skin after mud soap has brushed
clean stable all the sunlight soot
of their day flesh.

Lights them moon colored
and pearl eyed,
they swim translucent fish through
water - hair seaweed fresh languid.
While guppies play follicle tag among
millions, cheveaux-like seaweed absent
of seahorses-starfish their fingers
to their thighs and slide through water
oil gentle.

Never thinking of loss, never thinking tender fingers
holding waistline tight against untold horror,
but buck gentle ‘gainst subtide current, sailing shifty-smooth
toward destination infinite, forever calling their truest self
permanent and ever altered.

Alabaster women lie dormant on black sand beaches
roll their bodies covered entire in black tar
volcanic soot sand cover dormant
midnight journeys forward to the past of never
carry all the hope not yet hoped for.

pregnant silent lay in wait
for the sun to bake solid blackness.
Prepare for the scorch of the sun,
the walk of the day.
Dry and prepare sea legs
for land toil walk among strangers.

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NAPOWRIMO #10-HOPSCOTCH

HOPSCOTCH

by Ieisha McIntyre

Trickle drop, trickle drop,
little bee trickle drop riggle
 dance bring all the honey back
 and make the honeycomb fat.

Peony and pansy, honey suckle rose
all the flowers bow and greet the rain
 trickle drop trickle drop
such a loverly dance and sing.

Fat bees of yellow and black strip legs
heavy and pollen feet
full exhausted happy meet again
 peony and pansy, honey suckle rose.

all the work and all the time
 fat bees of yellow and black strip
make yummy sweet and golden nectar.
trickle, drop, trickle, drop.

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NAPOWRIMO #9-ANSWER

Answer

by Ieisha McIntyre

After all the years of question,

You are my answer. 

To every sleepless addiction bitten night, 

you are my answer.  

You are every prayer’s answer 

for all the days spent off balance and searching.

You are my answer.

My home base and safe place, 

my shelter from the rain. 

When my words have left me

 as easily as my breath,

 when my heart has not the strength 

to push blood through my body, 

your face is the last that my mind will see.

 the smell of your neck,

 the last scent my body yearns for.  

You are my morning sunshine, kiss of heaven.

 You are my answer.

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NAPOWRIMO #8- micropoem

A simple question

by Ieisha McIntyre

Did you ever wonder 

at the curve of the sky? 

The lilt in your lovers voice?

The moment of your death?

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Chapbook?

Would you like to see a chapbook from me?  If yes, comment and let me know which of my topics you'd like to hear more of!  Blessings!!!



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NaPoWriMo #7/30 - Friday Morning Rain

Friday Morning Rain

by Ieisha McIntyre

Rain falls gently to pavement.
Pad-taps out the rhythm of the day,
slips soft-silent through the cracks in the soil
and rises puddle.
Waits glass patient for my shoe.


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NaPoWriMo #6/30 - The Miracle of Sleep

The Miracle of Sleep

by Ieisha McIntyre

Falling away into darkness
--my eyes are closed
as windows with drawn curtains.

My mind--set free and active,
goes to play upon the landscape of forever.

Finding bits of reality--
here and there strewn over
every geographical point of the unseen.

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NaPoWriMo #5/30-Mr.

Mr. 

by Ieisha McIntyre

I wish I could tell you how many times
I looked at you and your forever before
I decided that it could
not be my ever after.

But, there were too many times to count,
and too many days have gone by to remember exactly
what it was that made tomorrow with
you put a bad taste in my today.

I wish I could tell you, but I can’t.

And, you’re over it.

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NaPoWriMo #4/30-Soul Tending

Soul Tending 

by Ieisha McIntyre

There are Gardens inside each soul--
where the spirit speaks to the creator.
Gardens lined with lush trees,
trees with branches that hang sleepy and watchful over fresh grown lilies.

There are gardens in our souls,
that carry the full scent and memory of love.
Love that has taken up care and pulled out tender weeds,
deep rooted weeds, pulled effortless with even the gentlest of breezes--love.

Plush moss of verdant green couch the ground
--make soft the harshest of places.
In our souls, there are sweet soft places, yearning for care, and tending. Safe sheltering places, where fruit rests heavy and fresh in the palm.

Fruit pulp-full and juicy sustenance. Peel back the rind and sink in your teeth.
Taste the sweetness of tended places.
Let the juice slide onto your tongue and creep toward the throat of you--nourish.
Let it squeeze free of your lips. Slide down your chin--feed.

Feed on this fertile love, make yourself ready to reap harvest.
Make yourself ready to offer free entry to those
in need of the peace--
the garden.

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Lotuspapillon (aka) Ieisha McIntyre Opening for Adam Falkner!

Opening for Adam Falkner @ UWTacoma

Wednesday March 31st  was one of the most heartwarming and life affirming experiences I have had in a very long time.  Adam Falkner is not only an amazingly enlightened and talented poet.  He is also a wonderfully inspired and inspiring educator!  He has a soulful singing voice and I hope one day soon he will put a few poems into song. If you weren’t at Wednesday night’s performance and you haven’t had a chance to hear his work, click his name and check him out!
I’ve posted a video with some of my work from the performance as well.  Feel free to take a look. Subscribe, tweet, comment!  Blessings all! I hope to do more readings in the future.  I’ll keep you informed!






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Fear of Flying #3/30 NaPoWriMo

Fear of flying 

by Ieisha McIntyre

I climbed to the highest mountain
and stretched out my arms as wings.
Bade the lord to lift me up by the power of his hand.  And with an effortless wave of his finger my feet left the cliffside and I was buoyant.
I drifted as the lightest of flying creatures.
 As the lightest of creatures.

All of this,
I did, inspired by my love for you.
The power of our union made me believe in unassisted human flight.  Lips were not lips,  fingers were not fingers, skin was not a barrier but a joining place. A place of surrender-co-mingle.
 All of my family voiced caution but I was unafraid
and had full faith in the power of God’s hand in our union.

I did not know that faith is made victim,
 God is made bystander,
And free will makes victims of us all.
The terror of love is in the losing,
in the ever present feeling of falling
and failing.
 
Love requires the courage of a daredevil to rest safely in the breast of a saint.
The voice of love works within our fragile minds.
We are made disciples.  
Convinced of our immortality,
we fly,
and give no consideration to gravity.
We lose all doubt of love’s existence.

In the making of love
it is made real as blush red,
hot sweaty and sweet tender.
What need had we of parachutes?
Lovers defy gravity and history every day.

No one hears the tales of the fallen,
the ones who fly too high, or reach too far.
Their stories are consumed by the heat of the sun.
All trace of them left as ashes on the wind.
All memory, left to drift with the gentlest of breezes.

The fear of flying left unexplained.        

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NaPoWriMo 30/30: #2/30

Here is my second poem in this great writing adventure that it is called NaPoWriMo. It is based on the #2 writing prompt on ReadWritePoem take time to check them out.  Many of you I do not know. And it fills my heart with joy that you are reading my work. I'd like to take this moment to invite you to say hello.  Ask me questions, and if you have advice I may not take it but I'm willing to listen. I hope you like it! Blessings.


NaPoWriMo #2: RWP Writing prompt for 30/30

Regular White Paper

by Ieisha McIntyre

Regular white paper says nothing on its own--
on its own it is only fiber and glue.

There are no contracts, promises, messages or vows without ink.

Without the rhythmic wave of process--
                                    the pen in hand
                                    and the cursive script,
                                    the paper would have nothing to say.

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Cat Bird NaPoWriMo #1

Having accepted the challenge of NaPoWriMo, I present to you my first poem.

Cat Bird

by Ieisha McIntyre

Cheshire cat grin behind steel teeth,
 and she is all that he can think about.
She is all curves and muscle.
Too many years behind her to be a girl
and to many days of sin to be spinster,
he is lost to her sex and sensual.

Smiling at her as a boy
who believes he’s the first to see a stone skip across water,
he is her captive
and doesn’t even know it.
All he knows is the grin and
the slow hard feeling in his crotch.

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Rain

Rain

By Ieisha McIntyre

Rain--
the soft sound of my lover’s voice.
It falls gently to my skin,
seeps into my body and drums against my beating heart--
his intentions.
All love and never harm, never malice,
nor contempt--
only nurture and breath.

Like rain, my love clears the dust,
and shoos away the drought of neglect.
He is my fresh homecoming.
My ambassador of spring.
With him, the soil of my spirit is made ready,
and receives without complaint or resistance.

Darling,
buds peak forth and test the light.
This sun, he brings after the tempest.
This scorch-less sun -- food. Fresh, green leaves stretch to blue-kissed light.
Fare well in these gentle winds of new cast love -- these are surely the most sweet of times.

Trust,
that when disturbance enters this garden,
and the light has grown stark-jaundice,
the rain is never far.
Grey flannel clouds will gather.
Pull close about and shelter.
Bring the welcome tender strum of his rain.

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Thank You!

I'd like to take a moment and extend a thanks to all of you who followed my Valentine's Day Challenge and even participated with me. I hope I encouraged you to write about a topic that you haven't had a lot of comfort with.  Feel free to share your experiences.  If you check out the about me section of my blog you'll find contact information for this blog as well.



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