New Poetry – Unpublished & Unabashed
- Miracle
It’s a miracle my body keeps waking
Staking a claim on the universe so vast
Past souls mingling in my chest alive
Drive is deep pushes my feet gives me move
It’s a miracle my heart keeps breaking
Making band-aids from poems I slap to my skin
Begin again each bursting into day
Obey nature’s verse to push through concrete
It’s a miracle the bombs hit the ground
Profound suffering yields nothing but more
Horror and we keep talking about the child
Wild terror the last pull on his story
It’s a miracle how uneven we choose
Lose connection as we pull inside
Pride a rope that binds our hands
Lands us crotch deep in guilt unmoving
It’s a miracle that we call it news
Hues of language paint an art absurd
Gird your coins with your palm and throw
Grow not your purse but your love
It’s a miracle we still write
Fight the wars of semantic floods
Blood’s all the same colour as it pours
Yours mine all the hearts give light
It’s a miracle my body keeps giving
Living for the links that hold
Bold solutions precious kiss
This is why we have lips
- Forgiveness Poem
At the time, I was vulnerable
that’s not an excuse
he was older
large in size and energy
he paid attention to me
to my mind
Forgive me for
At the time, I was in need
that’s not an excuse
he showed me the holes
we excavated
in each other’s mouths
Forgive me for
At the time, I was curious
that’s not an excuse
he offered his bed
he wasn’t generous
with his hands
Forgive me for
At the time, I was searching
that’s not an excuse
he was a new map
I was just another traveler
Forgive me for
Now, I can forgive
my weeping soul for
her wild excursion
she thought he was home
he wasn’t even a roof
You forgave me
Easily
I’m still shaking
- More Camel Toe
Chinatown is busy
Bodies showing more skin
Shoulders open to the sun
Arms flanked with polyester
Leather over feet or wrapping ankles
Nail polish chipped and loud
But it’s the bottoms that
Call my eyes to high-waist
Jean shorts that I loathed in the 80s
Back to haunt my aging hips
Zippers pull my gaze to tight crotches
So many more camel toes on parade
In this desert dirty sidewalk pushing goods
My own labia wince in discomfort
Beautiful vulvas
Pierced by cotton tongues
You do belong
- So let’s start here
*she rests her hand on her upper chest*
you should know what’s inside me before you read the rest of this
you should know who I am in case the poems don’t give you enough
you should know that I want you to love me
like weak-in-your-knees-make-you–sob-make-you-laugh-change-something-in-you
that type of love me
like soulmate or life partner or whatever you call it
that kind of love me
because inside I have so much love to give
it bursts out of me like pomegranate seeds slippery moist crunchy beautiful
I want you to feel my love so that I can feel yours
Yes I care about what you think of me
I care about how these words make you feel
These words are me
Maybe that’s the wrong way to write poetry
Maybe it’s not healthy
Maybe, you think, I need to deal with my shit
You’re right
All of you
But I can’t stop
The words won’t let me
I am the heat in the sun
At the centre of the light
I am
I feel different all the time
Like, I’m my piece and the missing one too
But we can’t connect
Like, I don’t fit in – even
Into my self
Except, let me tell you
Except when I’m writing
That’s important to know, okay?
This is me
*she’s banging her chest now*
You’re reading this
You’re holding me
Caressing me with your eyes
Undressing me with your page turning
Penetrating me with your judgments
I want it this way
I need it this way
And I want to thank you
For being here
For picking me up
For stretching me open
I am more alive when you’re reading me
I feel less afraid to be me
But I’m still afraid, oh yes
Still afraid you’ll hate it all
You can keep telling yourself
‘You’re not the words, Vanessa’
Don’t take it so personally
I will reject this
I will repeat:
I am the words
This is me
It is personal
*she drops her hand to her side
slowly backs away
waits*
- Poem A Day
a poem a day keeps the doctor away
or closer if you want
a poem a day keeps the voices away
or louder if you want
a poem a day keeps the monsters away
or bigger if you want
a poem a day keeps the heart at bay
or broken if you want
a poem a day keeps the crazy away
or right on the page where it belongs
a crazy a day keeps the poems at sway
or monsters with voices and hearts that play
VANESSA SHIELDS, writer 