the poet fears the loss of words to rearrange on paper, and
there are many places in the heart that a drought can happen, but
last night i told my son a story before sleep claimed him from me,
and he laughed,
his mouth a happy moon in a dark night, and
this morning my words carried the sun on their shoulders as they left my mouth to call him back, and
he heard, and smiled in his sleep.
that is how far they can travel when they do not need my
the poet fears the loss of words that will obey her on paper, but
see how many quiet ones slip out when she is not looking, but
they will not be shaped into poems where they do not want to live.
some words are made to fall all over sleep-soft skin.
they are made entirely of love.
— my words are always making poems.
© Liezel Graham 2019.
Photograph by Magda Ehlers.
in my bones
weight of all
— The weight of salt water.
© Liezel Graham. 2018
I am a writer, poet and a blogger.
There is no greater joy than having a piece of my writing accepted for print, or hearing that someone was touched by one of my poems.
Writing is a healing process for me, but sometimes it feels as if I spend my day flinging snippets of myself all over social media—Instagram, Twitter, Submittable, my website and Facebook—all in the hopes that some of it will take root somewhere, and grow.
And in that process, where I am feeding the world—feeding myself to the world—my family starve, because they don’t get the best of me. They are the ones who deserve the very best of my time and my presence.
So, my heart today is to remind you, no matter WHO you are, remember to feed the most important people in your life first.
Everything else will then fall perfectly into place.
And what if I were to give
to the words in my
allow them to seep
This is how I
By bleeding my