lighthouse

I search for the angels
You can always
tell them apart
The ones with
starry windows
For eyes burning
Plasma to light
The darkness in
Their hearts
And I know
They’re angels when
I see dimensions collapse in their eyes
At the sight of
Hope and sorrow
And I suspect
Only someone
Who has known
Heaven and hell
Intimately would
Glow so bright
In a world so dark.
And like a luna
Moth I’m drawn
Irresistibly to
Their light.
 

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Spring

Birds sing,
Picking up
Dead twigs
To build
A home
For new
Life.

Spring

 

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Rain

I just want
to stay in bed
and listen to the
rain today.

 

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Drowned Princess

She was drowning
her friends watched
blaming her for being
too weak to swim.

– some currents are invisible.

 

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A Poem for Loss

Art and words by Rebecca Fionna. Screen Shot 2018-03-30 at 3.15.30 AM.png

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Wild Flowers

Here lie the wild
flowers of my fractured soul,
grown from plots of 12 pt.
Times New Roman soil.

– forever a gardener of words

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Lightning

I’m sorry
that sometimes
I fall from
my skin to hide
inside the marrow
of my bones
and still ask you
to find me like
lightning without
thunder. 

 

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Seashell

Listen
    carefully:
if you 
    breathe
into the
    seashell
of my heart
    you’ll hear
hurricanes and
    disheveled waves
muting a lonely 
    song
that I know
      your 
heart sings,
      too. 

        

 

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My First Poetry Performance

This is not a poem, this is a blog post. I wanted to reflect on my first performance.  I performed, “An Almost True Story About Emails” and “Depression”.

I did not expect the words to set me on fire. What I mean by that is: my poetry came alive and I felt each line physiologically.  The words, rhythm, audience reactions, and sound all took a form of their own and my body was just an instrument.  It was absolutely magical.

I had never performed my work like this before, and now I can’t wait to perform again. Thank you to NYC’s Parkside Lounge for hosting the Inspired Word event and to the exquisite audience. I can’t wait to go back!

Pictures:

 

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Ruins

I like to imagine
that flowers bloom
and hummingbirds sing
in the abandoned
ruins of our love.



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