Category Archives: Poem

Who suffers most is I …

I cause displeasure to the one

I most desire to gratify,

And from displeasure that I give,

The one who suffers most is I … 

Such beautifully stirring words written many years ago by Juana Inés de la Cruz –   acclaimed in her time as the “Phoenix of Mexico”, America’s tenth muse; a generation later she was forgotten.

Sor Juana Inés de la  Cruz was a 17th century nun, self-taught scholar and acclaimed writer of the Latin American colonial period and the Hispanic Baroque. She was also a staunch advocate for women’s rights.



I Stand Naked

Real soulmates know without having to ask the easy questions … The one who deserves your naked body is the one who knows your story.

* I do not own these two poems, but it was too beautiful not to share.*

You think you’ve seen her naked because she took her clothes off?
Tell me about her dreams.
Tell me what breaks her heart.
What is she passionate about, and what makes her cry?
Tell me about her childhood.
Better yet, tell me one story about her that you’re not in.

You’ve seen her skin, and you’ve touched her body.
But you still know as much about her as a book you once found,
but never got around to opening.

i felt you not

by fingertips
or even against my lips.
i felt you in my breath
and in my bones.
And how you turned my skin
from a body to a home.

i found you
not by compass
and not by map.
i found you from the light
that made it through the cracks.

Grace, Dominic Matthew Jackson

I am still waiting on this person. I thought I found him – once, twice … many eons ago, in shadows, in rare moments, in my memories. But he only tore my pages apart to the ones where he and only he was the star in them.   You could touch a woman’s body but still have her soul remain untouched. I am not for shallow waters – you want me, you better get to know me in the depth of my soul.

I want, I wait for that one special person who will open my book … who will devour the light that reaches his eyes and who can savor every single word that he reads, sees, understands, and still after turning the last page, wants to know more, to seek  out more, to understand the words that I do not yet know how to write or share.  I want him to read until our lives entwined becomes the book. I want to love with all of my soul …

Waiting …  standing here naked …


I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) 
I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

I fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) I want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart) – E. E. Cummings ♥♥♥

%d bloggers like this: