Category Archives: LIFE POETRY





Twice, death had its place inside my heart, the

the beats playing my sad song….

You didn’t sing the blues or watch my little

fingers grow to musical notes…

I laid and listened to your rhythm, the moment

ours and ours alone…

You gave me the most precious gift of all,

you, your love, and we created a song….

I was that child that was lost, then was found…

Inside, I felt you grow, a place you can now

call home….

Death wiped my tears, life echoed “I will

love you forever, this is not final”….

I will hear you breathe again….

Sitting pretty with a blue bow,
I picked you above all

Your kind eyes and smile that
I hugged to me.
You were with me all the
time, even took you
to school for show and

I had left you alone there,
and cried until I had you back

You grew with me, through
my happiness that I embraced,
tears which draped upon your
worn fur, anger which was thrown,
knowing you would never feel my

As night fell and I grew
scared, I held you closely
as you seemed to protect me.
Safely, you held me too.

You know me like no other,
and in your eyes I am still
that child.

It may seem silly, but I
love you.
You were always there,
and even now
you still sit proudly
watching me.
This is poem is about a stuffed animal I’ve had
since I was three…


Summer breathes my childhood innocence,
somewhere roaming around in laughter trying to
find me.

Born in Heavens womb,
perfect beauty, untainted….
coloring plains to perfection.

Our paths wrote on scrolls
from the very beginning, born
within the madness of life.

We learn pain, love, pleasure,
hate, and insanity to those
that choose to end their life

Dwelling with the mortals, struggling
with the faces that will deceive us.

Some will learn the secrets that
possess them, others will walk the
greed, and forget why we are here
in the first place.

Love will not come easily, and
will have to work to find the
beat of their heart.

There is no Hell to take away
our torments, so death is not
our punishment.

Some grow old, some never have
a chance, but we all leave the
way we came in.

We close our eyes, and home is
not so far away.
Some souls are chosen to
live another life, others
know their grace, and so
they are Eternity…..

Life can be so eerily quiet here,
especially a silence that may not
be use to you.
Sometimes I see my past
lives, strangely showing me grey.

Everything seems so dramatically
touched in color and hues.

I hear a mother cow moan
when her calf is taken away,
walking in pastured cries.

The country, a land of
echoes, everything seems so
lost and alone, but yet aware.

Birds settle in the sky,
caressing the winds in lazy

The dead also stalk, waiting
to taste flesh….
A deer wonders cautiously,
nature watching the slow

Life seems so in tuned
here, pretending not to
notice who pause and watch.
A spirit animal wonders close,
eyes meet and I see
my own….

Bees seem to lounge in
the sun, bathing in nectar
Even the breeze seems to
tell a story, whispering
of the footsteps before us.

I like to listen to
their stories, be wise
of the seasons.
I’ve fed on the spoon
and fork of bad weather,
and tasted the ripened juices
our Mother provides.

I’ve watched a hawk rest
in snowy graves as he
showed respect for the
wake of followers.

Night seems to hush the
noise and light, daring to
be disturbed.

 Opposum blindly searches for
food, nibbling on kitty tibble.
Life can be so funny,
natural if we just laugh,
for we are the audience.

Woods here seem to draw
suspense, a place where kids
can pretend, explore, daydream
on the strings
of rays as they stray
to I spy….

Night, undisturbed as stars wink
and flirt, showing what’s under
their skirt, and so I
calm in effortless abandon,
knowing somewhere Heaven waits…..

I was over there today for a visit.
You had been sick and I
wanted to make sure you
were OK.

So much energy floods me
from the past.
I practically lived there my
whole life, and oh, the memories
grandma’s house conjures.

It’s like taking a walk
backwards in time.
It was a warm day
and you had the windows
open, breezes playing inside.

I look around at pictures
on the wall, of the dead,
of the living, apart of
the family.

We sit on the porch
swing and talk, I look
around, everything so lush,
green, blooms floating like bubbles
in the air, and the smell of
spring upon us again.

I looked at the place where
the pool use to be, a place
I went skinny dipping for the
first time, sun tanning to
Def Leppard, and having no
worries were no such rush.
Oh, the friends that helped
me enjoy those times.

“I miss you coming around,”
my grandma says, and in
my heart I knew that was true.

I had missed her too.
She was always there for
me growing up, never turning
her back on me when
I made mistakes, needed

Eyes wouldn’t close until she
knew I was home safely, and
I didn’t understand then, but now
that I have my own, everything
makes sense now…

I told her on this day how
the house made me feel,
and she understood.

Tears bloomed, but never released…
One day I know my grandma
will not be there, but I have
the memories.

The house will stand, residual
energy of us all….

I say goodbye, “I will
come back to see you next
We hug, who knows, could
be the last, but she will
always be like a mother, and
I cherish her and what she
has given me.

Now, I can say I
love her….

Eyes never hold what they
mean, the truth, a disguise,
and winter hovers…
They wonder over shadows,
magic in its fingertips…
You stare, but, never look away,
holding, luring, provoking, so good
you think you are.

Teeth bared, a snarl on
your lips, bloody, to mark,
to mate.

IT travels up my spine,
a shiver, foreign, it speaks
in tongues, hung upside down,
but do you understand?

I need you to burn
my soul, crucify my sins,
tracing them on your skin,
tasting them in your mouth,
and so you drink, flowing
down your chin, hurry up
and catch me…

From muscle to tendon, everything
seeps, want to be free.
I want to break into,
become the doll put back
in the corner that everyone forgets.

My jaw hurts, set it
back in place, insert the
rod for judgement!
I swallow, but never twice,
no, no, no….I am
a good girl…

Inside I shake, and I
take my white pill, yes,
feed it to me, watch
as my eyes roll back
in my head,  life flashbacks….

Touch me on every surface,
my scent embedded
on rubies and diamonds, false

Make me who you want
me to be, position me
over your phallus, killing me,
my silhouette a cold case.

This is what death feels
like…orgasms to my toes…
kiss me there, lifeless, safe,
in my own world, and
I am wept…

Makeup your best friend, good
for coloring your lies.

Between your legs where the
demons dwell, forked and angry
on unsuspecting swells…

Haunted by the spirits that
ran around happy, jealous to
steal their souls.

Biblical tongue, hung on your
own sins, marked the beast.

Whispers behind your back, eyes
that follow, mocked.
Lyrics of a angel, disguise
in horns.

Reading rhymes, playing games, even
touching velvet, none of that
could make you sane.

Is is all my fault,
I was only a child?
Praying, on your knees,
he neglected, not to be
seduced by red.

Moans of pleasure stirring the
cloak, as the young lay

Sleep puddled the blood, always
a willing sacrifice.

Sharing dreams with you, you
always the monster.
The lost little girl trying
to find her mommy, never
quite reaching her.

In the end darkness envelops,
and so you walk homeless
in your womb, carrying your
twin who will trace your

I look in the mirror,
see you, the curse you
have given.
Your grave waits, and so
does the tears…..

I suffer side effects, yet
proud to be my own.
I could have been a
good daughter, you never gave
me the chance.
You are dead to me….


Born under the Libra moon,
the scales tip in honor
of me, for love and
beauty, they so admire.

My eyes opals, charming for
all to see..
Full of mystery, I delight
shadows, painting in black,
cruising in crimson.

I play in Autumn, smiling
at the beaming jack-o-latern,
cloaked tipped hat adorning.

A musical harmony of riddles
I bestow, moody entanglement
I enfold…

Grace and curtsey, flirty I
am, Southern charm, the arm
of a lady….

Mysterious intruder, stalker of
thoughts, always distraught.

Alluring, sensual, consumed principle.
You will never know the
true me….

Luke Atkins

Film, Music, and Television Critic

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. . .can you imagine?

During the days in which I choose to conform, I do so with a specific feeling in mind that I want to achieve. A sort of climax that I aim to reach. A feeling effortlessly maintained between the ages of 6-9 and again between the ages of 13-15, when being a girl was simply one of the numerous ways of being.


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Paranormal Author, Artist & Empath. Follow Sheila on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram! @sheilareneeparker