Articles written by Rebecca Write

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About me - Rebecca Write

House of Sand

We are a house of sand that stands forever

Blown to dust and washed away is just a part of it

Not the ending

We are the sound of the string that sings through eternity

Grown quite here now

But exciting the stars as they dance to the tiny song

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Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Contemplation: 6 of 95

The margaritas here are good Better than anywhere else in town So I sit by myself at this little Mexican restaurant And think about what a jerk I am The furnace kicks on and the plastic fringe hanging from the ceiling flutters It is Valentine’s weekend And I notice there are red and white silk flowers on every table An...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The state of my heart: 14 of 98

Five Finger Necklace The hand I grasped you so tightly in Cut off the circulation to my life You , you , you always you And what an imposition I was To me There are little yellow butterflies In a patch of tall flowers With pink and white blooms They sleep there at night With wings folded back like birds Thousands of the...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Dishonesty: 29 of 162

It’s the hemp, it’s the weed, it’s the soil, it’s the seed It’s the farmer, it’s the earth as we stand and watch her bleed And for this my friends, there is truly no need Because the hemp plant could help us, were it not for greed. Seeds are eaten roasted, raw, as flour and as meal ...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Good-bye: 38 of 178

In the bones of this house With the light of spring shining through the rafters Bouncing rainbows off broken glass The prism of love reflects the death of hate Bright green blades of new grass puncture the ruins So this is what winning feels like After decades of being beaten By the cruelty in me Here I am Gentle as I ever w...
Creative Writing > Songs Songs: Friday night: 9 of 37

The thirty something man sitting next to you at church That you think is so handsome, talented and cool Looks much different smoking meth With your cute Jr. High daughter after school The cancer victim with six kids That you feel so sorry for Laughs about skipping his children's birthdays At the ice man's door Feed the monke...
Health & Fitness > Health Risks Are vaccines safe?: 1 of 4

During a 1969 House Appropriations Committee Hearing, the Defense Department's Biological Warfare division at Ft. Detrick requested funds to develop a new disease that would be resistant to the victim's immune system, and also break it down. According to the Congressional Record Within the next five to ten years it would pro...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: The Earth: 45 of 178

The sailboard burned a hole in me The only water can fill She has a new gig As my paddleboard Of all things the boat shop in Granbury Had an old 6” paddle for so long It had weathered indoors So I put in at the marina Only to be blown straight back A Guiness to steady my nerves As a honeysuckle vine caresses my cheek A...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Questions: 48 of 186

Moving in slow motion Events unfold just beyond my fingertips Blurring in a whirl of wilder waters As I wash up with the surf Breathless and fascinated The shore recedes to the horizon Stranded things appear Bubbles in the sand With rainbows shining in them A distant force of unseen dimensions Is rising with the infinite Qui...
Entertainment > Music Education Type of guitarist: Technicians or explorers: 2 of 7

Life is a serendipitous affair, after all. I like to take pictures, and I like live music. Here in a college town, in central Texas, we have no shortage of bands being born on stage at open mike nights, which means no shortage of bands you can see for $5.00 today, and some of them will be playing sold out concerts a year fro...
Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Self-image: 54 of 153

Music comes from everywhere Except us Our song is silence Our palette is only stains You I did not know For five long years The clay on your clothes The scars on the palm of your hand And on the sole of your foot Your curls of black hair Your wild graying beard Your eyes of changing colors The glass pipe in your pocket The t...