Category Archives: Poetry

The Bamboo Forest – A Poem

The Bamboo Forest

We walk through the side yard
Cut along the back fence ravine
Avoid the property line
Wherever my sister goes
I follow
She knows how to play the way I do
Unlike other kids
(I keep making mistakes)
We explore the dense poles
Green stalks transporting us
Foreign Land
My sister teaches me friendship
My sister teaches me
That someone understands
She shows me her treasures:
Newly discovered places
Secret grottos grown ups pass over
We are the wealthiest kingdom
I am a princess
But she is a Queen

June 2013 – A Poem

2012 Sespe Condor Sanctuary

I didn’t want to pick out an appropriate picture for this poem. I picked out something calm that reminded me of the opposite of what this day felt like. Many of my poems are flashbulb memories or combinations of flashbulb memories. This poem is the worst day of work I have ever experienced. I don’t know if, in a literary sense, this poem is any good. There are quite a few poems like this I keep hidden: more personal in nature and harder to predict how a reader is going to react. Let me know what you think in the comments or like it. If you do like this poem, share it with your friends so I can get a decent survey of whether or not to post more like it.


June 2013

I watch a woman melt today
Skin sags off a decomposing body
With a sputtering heart
Interstitial fluid melts into
The heated inflated bed
Brain death at 4 o’clock in the afternoon
Her children bicker in the hallway
Her pacemaker trips
Every few minutes

They sign away their rights to sue
Hospital-Acquired Infection List Marathon
As the ventilator sings positive pressure
”So she never woke up from the surgery?”
”No, ” the doctor lies
Through his military smile

I am a phlebotomist and
A disease controller:
Biohazard level 4 room, Sir
Check-in Check-out – a list procedure
[Can’t talk back to the M.D. – Report her!]

I keep my mouth shut
As they beg for hope
Their mother’s dripping on the floor
More Chux! More Chux!
But their sister has to get there
Before they allow us
To turn off the machines.

The Poetry Of Jordan Pace

I’m excited to share and feature 4 poems by Jordan Pace. You may know him by his Twitter or his new book Perfectly Imperfect. I’ve had the pleasure of working with Jordan as a fellow author in the Writing Community and through Coffee House Writers. I love these poems, and found myself paying special attention to A Serpent’s Kiss as I broke down the complete experiences described. That said, I’m going to save my personal interpretation of each poem and what I took away from it until after. Without further ado, let’s begin.


Tasteless Coffee

We sat side by side
It felt as if we were miles apart.
Our cups dangled
With our feet;
We watched as waves crashed against walls.
We talked for hours,
Our words felt like whispers
Was he hiding something?
I couldn’t tell
The breeze so strong
The faint smell of salt air
Losing my reason to care
I leaned forward, my full intention to fall
He caught me, his cup staring with an inviting glare
I arrived at it,
A feeling of curiosity washing over me
Why does his coffee have no flavor?
I look back again
I wonder
When did this space get so empty?
Who was I talking to all this time?


The waterside imagery steals me away and I, too, am sitting on that retaining wall, feeling detached from the person I am with – wondering if I knew them this whole time. The metaphor of time and conversation to waves eroding the relationship and details of the scene overtime hits me in a soft underbelly place I haven’t thought about in a while.


A Serpent’s Kiss

Lonely,
I am fine,
quiet inside.
a war rages on the other side.
there are cracks in my armor,
No perfect men wear armor.
You,
My imperfection,
a variable I cannot account for.
Your slithering, salty, sinking words burrow into me,
like a bullet lodged in a dead man’s chest
A bullet Cannot be pulled out without care.
I keep it there.
Holding fast to what remains of you,
unaware of its effects.
I see you in places you did not exist, a bad dream fades into reality.
As I lay on the bed,
there is nothing left to say.
I knew the risk and how it would end.
You watch over me, a serpent’s gaze.
Has the poison taken effect?


The narrator first begins with a self assessment – he is an imperfect man: a perfect man would need no armor. Worse yet, his armor has cracks that left him vulnerable to abuse in this mind trick of self blame.

As the narrator continues to describe this ex-abuser as a venomous snake, it becomes obvious how appropriate the comparison is. Some relationships are toxic like venom, leaving lasting wounds in the form of trauma. He is holding it both intentionally and against his will.

But the narrator in the poem suffers the lasting effects of the relationship even if everything seems quiet on the surface. The lasting trauma is described as a “bullet lodged in a dead man’s chest” implying the depth of despair and destruction felt surrounding the trauma.

The last 3 lines may be the most impacting. “I knew the risk and how it would end.” The narrator describes the gut feeling paired with the inability to resist the relationship. It could be argued that with the comparison of the ex to a serpent, the narrator was hypnotized. “You watch over me, a serpent’s gaze.” The last line closes the poem with the hardest question of all – that of intent. “Has the poison taken effect?” Did the abuser intend this all along? Is this what they wanted?


Excuse me

Excuse me,
baby, I’m tired, your hips swing with energy to light my world for eons. Excuse my language,
But I think you’re a dime,
a definite “jack of all trades” when it comes to working
Excuse me for entering your life,
Then exiting, by mistake


Apologetically, there are short lived relationships that can feel bought or traded. The narrator then mentions leaving unintentionally, apologetically, even though there is nothing wrong with the other party. There are many layers of guilt here.


I WAS CREATED TO BE YOU

You cannot relate
to my pain-
molded by fires, created
through some ultimate desire.
A mold,
I was left to fill your desires
and when it did not work,
I was told to simply
“get over it.” My world
is torn asunder; my life
unraveled.

Years of work and effort made
to seem like less than
the step forward it truly was.

All because it didn’t work
for you? Was I never considered
in your equation? Was I even ever
a variable?

Lots of these things,
I will never, ever know,
but one thing’s for sure:
I may have to spend the rest
of my life defining myself.


To me, this poem screams of the struggles of the effects of a narcissistic relationship. I interpreted this as a parent-child relationship and what I call “bonsai children”. Bonsai children grow up with parents who carefully shape and mold every aspect of their lives so they are more like ornaments to benefit the parent more than individuals.


About Jordan Pace

Jordan Pace’s book Perfectly Imperfect is available for purchase here in paperback and on kindle. You can keep up with their writing on Coffee House Writers here. To keep most up to date, you can follow them on Twitter.

What did you think of these interpretations? Do you agree? Disagree? Did you find different meaning that I didn’t find? Let me know in the comments! Do you want to see more of these posts? Let me know by liking this post or commenting below.

As always, thank you for reading. Remember to keep supporting artists and authors during these crazy times.

Publication Announcement!

The above picture was created using https://inspirobot.me/ – it seemed appropriate for some of what the past couple months have felt like

I submitted my first piece of COVID-19 related writing. And…

Stigma Fighters published my poem Alexithymia in 2020 America! Hop on over there and check it out? Leaving a comment and sharing it would be even better.

This is also a good time to mention that I have a poetry collection called “One Hundred Different Skies” coming out in Summer 2020. Once I have the cover art finished I will be making the collection available for digital pre-order.

I’ve already received great feedback from a couple of beta readers and I’m loving all of it. This might sound weird, but I love hearing when someone dislikes one of my poems if they can tell me why they dislike it. I find it really helpful to me because as I’ve been working through cases where someone can tell me why they dislike something, I find that I can understand their viewpoint and am willing to edit and try to rewrite sections to improve the work.

I accept that there are few things harder than editing poetry in the world of writing. But there’s nothing more rewarding than a poem that accurately captures an experience. My beta readers are AMAZING.

As always, thank you for taking the time to read this post and if you haven’t heard it today: you are loved and you are valued.