Posted in confidence, poetry, story

Still Looking

Still Looking   I wanted to find the perfect poem that captured the library in my head, my story inked in proof that I’m not unique.   I didn’t fit in any of the verses, marking my world into their margins, their words not quite what I needed to read.   I asked existentially if anyone understood, if they could help me understand this aimless search to feel grounded in someone else.

I’ve been obsessed with reading poetry lately, scouring the internet for hidden gems, loving the surge of available verse with National Poetry Month in full swing. I’ve found some good stuff, but haven’t yet found one that really hits me. I want to be brought to tears. If anyone has any suggestions, please let me know!

–Leanne Rebecca

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Posted in art, poetry, writing

Too Much

Too Much  They call it Pain Tolerance, measured in a threshold determined by the wearer, a number of fingers you can withstand before two hands shortfall the scale,  a 10 spectrum limit that fails to consider all the categories of this feeling’s complexity.  Am I at a 9 because I’m still breathing?  There’s a numbness beyond comprehension that confuses the brink of my endurance, as if the ache resides in negative space. an inverted sensation, the vast white surrounding the ink blotches  that could explain this intoxication. I changed the last word of this poem at least 6 times, and with each revision, I found new meaning inside my own lines. I implore you to take away your own interpretation. Sure, I wrote the poem, but the meaning is not absolute. What it means to you is just as significant as the reason I wrote it. I write poetry for me, but you read it for you. We’re equals in this process.

Happy Monday!!

–Leanne Rebecca