Posted in art, poetry, writing

Expectations

Expectations  I wrote them in the silence of intolerance, unfair assumptions  of a girl too concerned and  consumed by the future that she couldn’t live up to her own expectations dictated in passive aggression to the people that care now.

Be kind to yourself.

It’s been a week since I posted a poem on here and I’ve been worried about it. I’m in a state of transition right now, trying to figure out what my future has in store. I’ve been asking a lot of questions lately, mostly boiling down to “what do I want in this life.” And though I can’t answer it in this moment, and though I’ve struggled with writing as a result, I know I need to take my own advice and be kind to myself. If all I have is today, I’m damn well going to grant myself a break and a hug and a smile (and peanut butter).

Be kind to yourself.

–Leanne Rebecca

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Stance

Stance  It’s the stance of someone beaten. I don’t need to know the origin of your bruises or why you hunch your shoulders  to deflect eye contact. I hear it in your silence and see it in your hiding, buried beneath pretend apathy, the lies of a fight too fresh to pass the lump in both our throats. I’m not asking you to speak, but beg you to believe we can look west together, comrades of pasts not yet set. We’ve got time to face each other when the sun bleaches the marks on your heart. Writing has been a struggle lately. I spent at least a week and a half incapable of finishing a single poem. I’d start them, sometimes even reaching the second to last line, and then shut my notebook. But this one just happened. I didn’t fight for it or resent it halfway through. It was organic and soothing and I think I know why. I’ve been focusing on me lately, focusing on what I’m feeling and holding on to negativity like a magnet. This poem was a break from that. It’s about someone else and I’m super relieved that something inside me compelled me to reach outside my own brain for inspiration.

Have a great week!

–Leanne Rebecca

 

Posted in art, poetry, writing

My People

My people  There’s a part of me in every one of them, split projections reflecting back so that if they stood in a circle a hologram of me would appear in the center. Each one carries a different trait, an elemental slice of who I am— the way she cowers behind her hands, diverting and accentuating the social awkwardness of interacting in public places; the way he relinquishes his soul to music, making sense of emotion through lyrics, expressing a mood in a song choice; the way she overthinks; the tempo that he sings; how she doubts whether she wore the right earrings; that he laughs at inappropriate pauses in conversation; her resilience evidenced in getting out of bed and trying again. They’re my people, friends so familiar we share tears, so close I see their faces in my mirror— without them I’d disappear.

I think it’s important to notate that the rhyme in the last  lines is completely unintentional! The last step in my writing process always involves reading the poem out loud (which probably gives people the impression I’m talking to myself, especially if I’m in a coffee shop or something). Anyway, I didn’t notice the rhyme until that moment and in utter honesty, I liked the individual lines too much to change it. Deal with it.

Happy Tuesday!

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Glimpse

Glimpse  Sometimes I forget that the sounds are audible because I can’t hear myself. The music’s too loud in my earbuds.  I wonder if the headlights coming towards me  reflect the glass coating my eyes,   even though it’s dark. Would that man walking on the other side of the street notice If I collapsed?  My hands shake with the violence of my breath, unable to find pause in the measure of worth.  Can you hear me choking on silence, coughing with the helplessness of an asthmatic? Do you care?

This weekend was rough. As such, I’ve decided to take a little She’s in Prison vacation, just for a week. Isn’t there a saying of some kind about having too much of a good thing anyway…?

Have a great week and check back in 7 days for fresh schtuff. 🙂

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Exiled

Exiled  He walked next to me, a foot between our bodies, a distance that only grew to divert obstacles in the middle of the sidewalk— trees, trash cans, mail receptacles.  He’d point out a café he liked over there and I’d say I’d never been,  a suggestion.  We chatted about work and food addictions, ebbing in and out of the serious stuff, family and insecurities, teetering the line of divulging too much, choosing to trust in the other, mostly.  And then he hugged me and he left, the sight of his back stabbing me, exiling me into invisibility, just a glare from the setting sun, dissolved into nighttime.

This one’s inspired by “Invisible” by Hunter Hayes.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Flushed

Flushed

How’s everyone doing? Sometimes it’s odd to think that I’m sharing poem after poem with all of you beautiful people without really knowing you. The truth is, I want to know who you are and how your day is going. I want to know what brought you here and what you’re thinking about this Friday in early May. I want to meet you, to get coffee with you, and steal inspiration from your stories. Life’s better when we take the time to acknowledge one another. This is me acknowledging you, whether you’ve visited She’s in Prison before or whether this is your first time. Please don’t be afraid to say hello! I’m on Twitter too if that’s more your style!

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Helpless

Helpless

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A Letter

A Letter

It’s a Thursday night…what else is there to say?

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Concrete

Concrete

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Two

Two

It’s Twenty One Pilots’ Saturday on She’s in Prison and I’m officially running out of TOP songs to steal the titles from (gasp!). This one’s about options, aptly titled after the song “Two.” We’re all faced with options, some tough, some not. The dilemma isn’t the option but rather the choice that goes with it. Sometimes choosing seems impossible.

Have a great Saturday!

Posted in art, Music, poetry, writing

Precarious

Precarious

The word of the day is ‘precarious.’ I caught myself relying on its beauty multiple times this morning, so clearly, I needed to write a poem based upon it. This one’s inspired by “Basically, I” by Robert Delong. I discovered his music a little less than a year ago and I remain a fan. He’s a cool dude, too. Thanks for taking a break from your Sunday to stop by for a little poetry.

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Storytelling

Storytelling

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Comfort

Comfort

This poem is a riddle. A friend gave me the prompt of closing my eyes and writing a poem based on the first item in my house that popped into my head and then she’d guess what the item is. I fear it may be too easy, but please, go ahead and take a guess in the comments!!

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Fascinated

FascinatedMy friend Becca and I like to exchange writing prompts as a way to keep in touch (she lives on the east coast and I in the Midwest) and also to encourage each other to stretch our poetic muscles a bit. The last prompt was mine, and it proved a challenge, taking me a solid two weeks to produce. We were supposed to write about the first time we’d “met,” or in this case, the first time we saw each other. The prompt also came with a catch…it had to be the truth, regardless of what kind of light it placed the other person in. It’s been 5ish years since that fateful day, and I must say, she’s just as cool now as when she captivated me from across the room in our literary method class freshman year of college.

I recognize that maybe it’s scary to exchange this type of poem with a friend, vowing to tell the truth no matter what, but I promise it’s worth it. I loved writing this piece and I can’t wait to read what Becca thought of me all those years ago.

What would your best friends say about you the first time you locked eyes?

Posted in art, poetry, writing

Awkward

Awkward…yeah.

And on that note, follow me on Twitter?