Posted in art, poetry, writing

Intertwined

Intertwined  Cobblestones connected in definite pattern like the traditions of a family— making pancakes every Sunday morning. Buckled seams and cracked impressions shout from the street— the tensions of being too close to the people that you love. Without the foundation of bricks supporting Main Street’s travelers the town would crumble. The road’s imperfections, though rocky, holds the community together. The sarcasm of a father, the impatience of a mother, or the tantrums of a child cannot break the cement that binds them. Did you notice that my name isn’t the only signature on this poem? I’m proud to share ownership of this piece with my mom. It was a collaboration not without frustration. We’re different writers. I like sentences. She likes stand alone images. I like verbs. She likes describing words. But somehow it worked and in the end I think we both learned something. Thanks mom, for sharing your wisdom and treating us all to your poetic beauty.

Smile, it’s Tuesday.

–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

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!