Dream Watcher

Found this as I was cleaning out some old paperwork.  It was in a binder from college….. perhaps from 1997 or 1998?  Either way, still utter poetic hell.


Dream Watcher


through the night


watched you sleeping

And as you took your breath and drempt

I watched over you


Once you sighed

As if


and I wanted to be near you

In dreams

of love

of pain

of woe

Someone, someone

to watch over you



follow you all night

but I….

take their hands.

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This poem was written as an entry for a writing contest at Santiago Canyon College, where I’m currently taking classes primarily in literature and philosophy. As I post this, I was just informed a few hours ago that this poem–written in about 30 minutes–has won first place in the poetry category of the contest! –Jason


Blackened eye shines from faux-smiling face
Prepared happiness glowers into empty space
Tiny lies whispered, eyes gleam to hide the truth
First lesson learned in youth

For he is mighty, brave and tough
Weathered rage, his love—enough!
His broken bones, scarred flesh deserve the furor
Weak child-flesh of mine must be his mirror

What knuckles rapped o’er bruised cheek
Deserved, surely, for I am weak
Cowering ‘neath the arms of bloodied mom
Who knows not the horrors of Vietnam

How dare complain o’er his harsh embrace
His love revealed upon my ribs, back and face
Great sacrifice for which we pay
A price of fear, night and day

Oh brave and noble father
Purifying terror is no bother
Wake me, daddy, when the swelling’s done
Revisit battle upon your son

Thank you for the wars you’ve known
For bringing each and every one home
Showing me I can’t deserve
Your love, for I, but six, have yet to serve.

Your harsh caresses may bruise the flesh
Thanks to you, I fear not death
Eyes alight with rage fill me with dread
As I tremble ‘neath my broken bed
Afraid of you, I’ll hold my breath


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One Where There Should be Two

I realize after almost four years
that some actions become automatic.
But you should know
that I know
that you’re still buying two
when there’s only one.

The drive you have is amazing and precious
your selflessness
your creativity
your subconscious desires flowing into conscious action

I love your reasons
giving one set to charity
to children in need
to my daughter, so the girls can match on outings and holidays
to friends, to family
to every person who could use something “just like hers”

but I know

I know how badly you want to give those things to her
the other twin
the missing little girl
your angel.


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They Fought Over the Four Year Old

Trying not to raise their voices
teenage anger hiding under false friendliness
two girls, still in school uniforms, “babysitting”

They fought over the four year old
Who would do her hair
her makeup
her mani-pedi
her perfect outfit

They fought over the four year old
I was glad when they closed the door
Containing their fighting within her bedroom
And the laughter within mine, for as

they fought over the four year old
SHE loved every minute of attention
every moment of being wanted
every bit of being loved.

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National Write More Poetry Month

It’s April, and that means it’s National Write More Poetry Month!  Over here at Poetic Hell, we’re taking on the thirty poems in thirty day challenge.  Yes, I realize it’s already the fifth and there is only one new poem on here.  This is why it’s called a challenge.

In other news, a new poet has been added to Poetic Hell.  Welcome Linnea (aka me) – mama, writer, editor, poet, organizer, tutor, hair bow maker, scrapbooker, and quasi-foodie whose poetry is definitely rusty and probably terrible, and that’s okay.  Hopefully I’ll be adding more new (and old) content on here over the coming days.

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Pink Petal

twisted rose
will it bloom
on crippled stalk
scarred stem, leaves shaken
hidden deep within a wild space
slow watering
parting the leaves
allowing the sun
allowing the dew
allowing the sweetness of life
she opens
for me
yes, she opens


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Site News: We Have a Logo! And Facebook!

It’s exciting news indeed, but if you look up (really, go ahead, I’ll wait) you’ll already see it, flying gloriously in our newly remodeled banner. Thanks to Arteest Extraordinaire Kelley Frisby for drawing and painting this sexy new logo, by hand. Look for it to appear on the cover of our forthcoming eBook as well.

You might also have noticed that Poetic Hell now has its very own Facebook page! Please, if you love us or just love to hate us, please go ahead and Like Poetic Hell on Facebook and feel free to join the discussion and criticism of these god-awful poems that just won’t stop!

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The Woman Hero

I wrote “The Woman Hero” in a couple of major sessions for an original entry to a writing competition at school. I wouldn’t call it my best poem ever, but it’s far from my worst. Certainly better than most of the crap I tend to write :).

When war came calling,
Nay, crashing down ‘twixt heath and burrow
She fought, unsung
And steadfast, stood alone

Her eyes flashed with ideas
Mouth rapped; her crime, speaking
Heart quashed ‘neath bitter boot
Alone she worked, silenced

When folly or courage
Oft’ in equal measures
Brought spiteful wounds upon his breast,
Silent and alone, by tender touch, she healed him

And when she stood at last
Cried out for a turn to speak
Men and Gods forbade her
In the dark hollow of soul
She wept alone

There, I saw her
Raging silently in the night
Her voice and right, disavowed
Cheeks worn by tears and centuries

And I, with chivalrous design reached out
Erred intent to salve her stinging wounds
For which no balm save Liberty can heal
She rose, a Phoenix, an unbroken Atlas,
Shrugging away a  thankless world
As a sunrise o’er the mountains
Tears worn, a proud banner
She stands Independent
Aflame with courage
She, valiant Woman
Long silent Hero.


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Where did I go


Where did I go,

Locked deep inside

Pain hurts so much

I just had to hide

I used to laugh

And have a great time

I had lots of friends

And lots of sunshine

Now I’m alone with just me inside

Lonely and sad

And locked deep inside

Missing myself

In search of me

Trying to let out, the hurt that trapped me

I want my laugh back

Where can it be?

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How quickly time doth fly

When hearts are heavy and know not why

For when the dream hath ended we must go on

Cannot die, cannot die


But must travel ever on

Unto the setting sun at world’s end

Beyond horizon, past the dawn

Life must tend, life must tend


A fading dream descendeth not

Upon the weary shoulders of the traveler

Who treads the empty roads alone

Ever onward, ever on


Reaching unto the sky

To the orchards of the stars

Where chance binds a soul without remedy

Carry on, carry on.

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