Poems – Page 2 – Wolverine Lily

Unveiled

If I revealed my raw self to you,
peeled the makeup,
stripped the cloth from my body,
Bare—
unfolding every crease
carved in silence by time—
the eternal butcher,
dragging a dull blade across my skin.

Would you meet my eyes,
lock them in yours,
and embrace all I surrender?
Or would your gaze slip,
chasing youth in someone else?

Would your fingers trace the map
my face has become,
my eyes—Sirius at midnight—
guiding you into the gorge
where I’ve buried all my love?

If you leaned closer,
beyond the façade of scars,
you’d hear the crackle.
Would you let its warmth
burn through your defenses?

Yet, if you falter and turn away,
my heart—a resilient pendulum,
will endure stabs of every sway.
With or without your love,
in all that I am,
I will remain.

Author’s Note:
This piece took nearly a year to complete. It demanded brutal honesty, many attempts and revisions. It’s about aging, the courage to face it, and the fire of love that refuses to die—even when love itself has long been buried. For anyone who’s felt this way: this is for you. Only a few will understand.

I’ll probably tweak it again someday, but for now, this is it.

Meant to Bloom

I was meant to bloom—
unfurl, sing, and shine, not
be tended or trimmed, not
molded for duty and possession.

I was meant to bloom, not
decorate an entropic cave, not
drizzle in vain someone’s emptiness
with the sweetness of my effervescent petals—
infusing their spoiled, sour strands.

Even in the drought,
I drank rainbows through my veins.
My tendrils breathed warmth into soil,
while the sky hid behind clumped clouds.
I stretched toward muffled sunlight.

I was meant to bloom.

And then it rained, not
to nourish or cleanse.
Poured.
Unstoppable—
the ground swelled,
my petals sagged,
roots dislodged,
my garden drenched to swamp.

Yet I stand, sturdy but hollow.
They nest in my shade,
leech my youth,
and — call it love.

Slowly,
quietly,
I sink.

Still—

Dreaming of butterflies,
even a wilt can reach the sun.
Single ray ignites its desire.

Butterflies will come
And I will bloom…
as I was always meant to.

Author’s Note:
Not everyone who stands tall is thriving.
Not every flower is there for you to pick.
For every time you bloomed in silence, offered too much, or were mistaken…
This one is personal. 🌸

Insatiable

Cage me with your limbs,
Nourish the flames of our desire.
Let me hold you so close—
Feel you—
Melt to mist in our seamless embrace.

Our breaths entwine,
Drenched in the sultry steam,
Until your body nourishes mine,
Subdue my scorching thirst for you—

Insatiable—

And release my spirit,
Like the heat shimmer rising from the sand,
Ascending beyond ethereal heights.
I surrender…

And when we fall back to earth,
Together—whole and bound,
As one.
Indivisible.

Author’s Note:
This piece may look familiar, but like passion itself, poetry evolves. I removed the unrefined version a while ago because it felt unfinished, incomplete. I let it fully breathe, then reshaped it—until it became what it was always meant to be. This is the latest version, more final. Though still… insatiable. 🙂

Incongruous

“This is wrong!” they shout.
“Don’t do it!”

I don’t want to think what’s right—
what’s right anymore?

I’ve been doing all the right things:
behaved right,
got the right degree,
married the right guy…

Still, I ended up in the wrong place—
or the wrong end
of the right place,
at most.

A precise blueprint,
yet wayward—
disarrayed,
veering off the ideal design.

I’m incomplete. Misaligned.

Isn’t that right?
For me—it’s wrong.

Why is it wrong?
I did all the right things?

Why then, amidst all these rights,
do I feel misplaced—
a lucky penny lost in a dry desert,
gleaming in the sun,
yet inconspicuous in the sand—
Blindly chasing paths
marked right or wrong.

Incongruous.

Why is it wrong,
doing what feels right?

I’m tempted to do what’s wrong—
forbidden,
There’s a thrill in rebellion,
a treasure awaiting discovery in the shadows.

But what if it’s not wrong?
And perhaps even right—
right for me.

So, if I do wrong things,
maybe at least
I’ll finally feel right.

Let’s do more wrong,
but do it right!

A New Year’s Spark

New beginning calls,
Dreams awaken, hearts ignite,
Will this spark yet flare?

Author’s Note:
As the New Year unfolds, a wave of fresh inspiration has washed over me, imprinting new ideas. This is my very first attempt at writing a Haiku (though I’m not sure I like it), and it feels like a way to capture my hopes and plans for a new beginning. I wish this spark will illuminate the dark path ahead of me in 2025.

Wishing you all a Happy New Year!

Lighthouse of Childhood Dreams

Dreams, my child, are treasures deep,
Cradled in your heart where they safely sleep.
While coins and jewels swell with rust,
Your dreams are the riches that defy all dust.

On a tree of wishes, tags swing high,
Soft tears whispered to the everlasting divine sky.
Gold may glitter, diamonds may gleam,
But nobody can ever steal a sweet childhood dream!

Health is wealth, the wise declare,
Yet, dreams have wings beyond compare.
So dream your dreams, chase them far,
A priceless gift—a magical shooting star.

Your dreams are fires that never die,
A beaming lighthouse—guiding you through the night.
So dream big, dear child, the world is wide,
Open your heart, let your dreams soar with pride.

The Mirror of Trust

I stare into the mirror.
I see myself—those worried eyes I know so well.
“What do you fear?” I ask.
“I’m afraid to take this step,” she replies.
“Don’t. I’ll be with you holding your hand.”

She doesn’t trust me but begins to climb.
Step by slow step.
I watch her go up beyond my reach.
My legs tremble.
My heart pounds in my ears.
She reaches the highest highs,
I can barely see her.

“I’m scared,” she screams as she looks down.
“How will I get down?”
“Jump,” I encourage her.
“Impossible! I will die!”
“You won’t. I will catch you,” I assure.

She hesitates.
“I can’t! I’m terrified!” she cries.
“Just trust me,” I whisper.
“If you fall, I’ll fall… with you.”

Her quivering feet slide to the edge,
I catch my breath,
She plunges into the unknown.
First, like a rock tossed in the wind,
Then she unfolds her arms—
Delicate wings, unsure they will hold her,
Yet she spreads them wide in growing confidence,
As feathers grow from her skin.

I hint a smile and behold her glide,
A bird soaring on a gale.
I extend my arms into the air.
“What if I can’t do this?” I doubt myself.
Terror embraces me from behind.
“If you fail, I fail too,”
Her mutter echoes in my heart.

She lands within me,
I ripple like a drop cascading into a lake,
Peacefully blending into placid waters.

Was it her or me?
Who truly made it?

I stare into the mirror.
I see myself—those worried eyes I know so well.
“What do you fear?” she asks.
“I’m scared to take this step.”
“Don’t. I’ll be with you holding your hand,” she replies.

I climb with trembling legs.
She will catch me, she’ll find a way—
As I once did.
I’ll find my wings…
Just as she once found hers.

Little Chalky Feet

Her little feet with chalky dust,
Growing up too fast to last!
Sidewalk art with siblings’ cheer,
A special time my heart holds dear.

Amid each day’s relentless race,
These tiny toes print love I chase,
And memories carved to last forever,
Of joyful days we laughed together.

Author’s Note:
Some moments are just too precious to let fade, right? My youngest daughter’s chalky feet—capturing the fun and colors of a sunny afternoon in the park (before she turned 4.) I stumbled upon this photo and couldn’t let it go. It inspired this short poem and now lives here, safe and treasured. 🙂

Constellation of Unspoken Promises

A dreamy glimpse of you,
and the whole Universe disappears.
Irresistibly captivated;
I venture into the cosmos of your glowing eyes—
The only two stars left in the vast multiverse,
so dazzling;
so bright.

I dive into their stellar space…
Eclipsed in the moment,
I surrender to your orbit,
Lost,
like a silent asteroid in an endless cosmic sea.

Tangled in the gravity of your embrace,
Time slows,
a mystical clock suspends its hands.
Only a breath divides us.
I gravitate toward you,
like stardust drawn to light.
The magnetism of your heart
pulls me near—so near
my pounding heartbeat dances with yours,
a cosmic rhythm—
Two souls meeting the unknown.

Yet, you bring me closer,
and our breaths melt into one.

In the heat of supernova passion,
my eyes close;
like clouds veiling the sun,
awaiting the magic astral tick…
Our lips collide;
like two meteors in a vast galaxy,
Painting a new constellation of unspoken promises.

Resilient Dances of Leaves

Our lives are like the rain falling from the sky,
Sometimes gentle, like a whisper—an unnoticed sigh.
A light rain on a warm day, no big deal,
Just a kiss from the heavens—a bliss to feel.

A single drop on a leaf, a sweet graceful dance,
It slides to the tip, then takes its chance.
As it dives to the ground, the leaf bounces back,
A tranquil scene—a peaceful act.

Yet when the rain pours, in torrents and sheets,
The leaf takes the blows, withstanding the beats.
It’s under attack from raindrop-heavy punches,
Just like we face challenges in unpredictable bunches.

But the rain pounds harder when the storms rage,
Life’s troubles cascade, taking over the whole stage.
People like leaves, caught in the fray,
Fighting like raindrops on a stormy day.

And then comes the hurricane, wild and free,
Ripping apart the tallest tree!
Life’s greatest storms, we cannot predict,
They tear through our lives, leaving us kicked.

We cannot control the weather and the rain,
Just like life’s joys and moments of pain.
But we can stand firm, like the leaf on the tree,
Bouncing back after each drop, strong and free.

Yet, rainbows emerge, vibrant and bright,
Everyone points with pure delight.
A promise of beauty after the rain,
A reminder of joy after moments of pain.

For every storm that shakes the ground,
There’s a magical rainbow waiting to be found.
In the dance of the rain, in the calm and the strife,
We find the essence, the beauty of life.