On becoming a poet
My writer self was reborn about a year and half ago, when I began penning stories from the dark times during my years of alcohol abuse. I had been free from addiction for two years, and the words were screaming for release.
I have been writing furiously since then — autobiographical snippets, poetry, philosophical musings, and lately, informative blog posts about recovery in support of my new personal coaching business, Soul’s Truth Coaching, LLC.
I believe that parts of ourselves emerge throughout our lives like blooms on a flower. As one aspect browns and fades, another begins to open.
For…
Have we met before?
Before you rose
like a purple cherub
from my womb
Before you fluttered
your butterfly wings
in my stomach
Before the kiss
of your imagined existence
settled itself
inside the chalk of my bones
Before you waited
ephemeral and ancient
a pause
in the company of star stuff?
We’ve met before
I’m sure;
In a meadow
Under a mushroom
On a dust mote
Through a sunbeam
In the space between electrons
Under the crook of an arm of a galaxy
Behind the pupil of an eye
In the crater of a hawk moon.
Hello. My name is Vixen Lea and I have been Razzle-Dazzle for 1000 days.
January 7, 2018 is the day that I made the decision to quit drinking.
It seems like such a small thing when you look at the words of it: I Decided to Quit Drinking. Like I just made a decision and then that was that and all was good in the world. But of course, it’s so much more nuanced than that.
I was SO AFRAID. It was like I was about to say Goodbye to my entire Being; like I was going to strip off all of my layers of self that I had spent the last 25 years…
a poem of confession
So I suppose there’s the way
I always chose
to curtsey to trees,
spin similes to the breeze —
Or play with words that manipulate
and extrapolate
conventions (after all
who wouldn’t rather
perspirate than respirate?
…especially these days)
Although I do suppose
it did originate long ago
when some clever hoes
began to conversate…
So here’s the thing, darling —
I run-on so long
because:
commas! and colons!
and plus, (come on)…
Ellipses?! They’re so much fun
to drag your tongue along…
So yeah, I do suppose I am
always staring at clouds
sidestepping crowds
lilting out loud
and forever more
capitulating to sycamores
(and…
10 curated pieces from June and July
After receiving a very exciting (and unexpected) windfall from Medium this spring in the form of a $500 ‘bonus,’ I must admit — I sat back on my heels this summer, let my laptop collect dust and played in the sun.
Well, sort of.
Medium is my platform for sharing poetry, and after spewing forth verse after prolific verse this spring, I fell silent for a bit. Maybe the wellspring of words had to recharge. Maybe I was having a vulnerability hangover. Or maybe chasing my feral summer children (ages 5 and 7) had scrambled my brains.
But, after losing…
A poem of generations
I wonder how long I’ll have you
and it tumbles me
life
being what it is
ever-expanding and set on change
time
being what it is
folding and unfolding on itself
moments
pricked into our skin
drawing blood and sinking
like ink
I had to crawl on my belly through that cave
if I ever wanted to feel the sun
Maybe that’s the catch
Maybe we all do
there’s an old man on a diving board
he glances to his left
and there’s a boy
with the same middle name
shaggy hair and face full of grin —
count to three, together
they jump
arms spread…
A poem of perpetuity
My socks get soaked on the forest path
I don’t remember running through
I don’t remember running through
They say our souls are old as supernovas
I can’t go back there to find you
I can’t go back there to find you
Let’s stand in tree pose back to back
And see if vines grow up our thighs
And see if vines grow up our thighs
Let’s dive like hawks from clouded cliffs
And dissolve our bodies in the skies
And dissolve our bodies in the skies
Vixen Lea is a mother to two small children and a number of…
A poem of reclamation
This is the way the world works —
take it from us, Girl
see the way the scars sparkle
along our rag doll seams
Take it from the mamas
and the aunties and the sisters
see the way our knees buckle
under the burden of pleasantries
This is the way the world works —
take it from us, Girl
We pleased and thank-you’ed
our way through purgatory
We bowed our heads
at the feet of snakes
It ain’t your fault
the rats are always hungry
you are bunny tails and beckoning
you are ambrosia and sin
This is the way…
A poem of disturbance
you know it’s coming — you can feel it in your scalp — western skies electric — raising up those forgotten hairs on the small of your back — your breath always catches now — that low pressure sucking promises from your lungs — and the stillness starts
you shaking — the whole world seems crazy for it now — manic with anticipation — you’d run for cover if you were smart — but you throw open the windows and lean into it — because you’ve always been too reckless for your own good — you’ve got to
stand in…
