Perfectly

tea

The dance between dusty thoughts and childlike giggles

Dark skies while sipping on my pain

Simplicity is savored in a porcelain tea cup, it’s a Bergamot kind of day

Paralyzing grief served on Friday’s plate

Numbed by uninhibited dancing on Saturday with a random fake

The day will dawn

The night will darken

Who I am in this moment

With just one sentence

Is perfectly forgotten

By Alisa Hutton

Untouchable

Untitled design (35)

Peeling glances, thick with the deep churn of her buried unspoken

The sharp will notice, the simple will be her safety but so easily forgotten 

She will tell you ,her words must be followed

You should nod your head and always listen but take note of her eyes, for that is the path she hasn’t spoken

She will beautifully float with the most feminine poise and grace 

Then seemingly without notice she will leave you covered with ice in her politely distant way

She is full of dimension and rivers that run deep to places we would all be so fortunate to see

Almost untouchable, she will inevitably make you travel the long road to her tender heart

The greatest fortune of your life?

She only falls in love with the uniquely attentive and charmingly sharp

Don’t kid yourself, it is only by her choosing and when her time is right

By Alisa Hutton

Poetry Undressed

poetry undressed

Poetry

Story undressed

Naked and vulnerable

Liquor without mix

Can you feel the burn?

Fear biting your heels

Run fast in to the darkness

You won’t get out

Love

Blindly swirling in to

Heartache

Pouring pain

Rape Race Sexuality Religion

Grotesque Dark Sweaty Promise

Power Pride Commitment Hope

Uncomfortable

No clothing to hide behind

Poetry undressed

~Alisa Hutton

Gentle Quiet

grass

Roll open the scroll of your life on the grass

Wide and long with gentle hand and thought

Precious parchment is sure to fray when harshness pours

Edges brown and beg to be absorbed back in to earth they once grew

The scroll may grow in length, assurance not your right

Sit with it in quiet, allow the rain to wash away that which is not meant for permanence

Ask for it, chant and pray if you must

Left on the wet uncomfortable quiet of the grass will be your timeless ink and legacy

When you shiver, honor stillness

When you hear only scream, honor quiet

When little is remaining, trust

Trust the story being left, the story being written

For that which is deeply rooted will not be washed away by the rain

Trust in gentle quiet

That which remains after the storm

Is

You

~Alisa Hutton

 

Shallow Waters

 

shallowwater2

Inhaling sadness

Exhaling only to make room for more

Laying still in her shallow waters

Lapping tides remind her she has felt the wash before

Blinking once

A familiar passerby walks around her, not to lose path of their own linear destination

Blinking twice

A second familiar passerby walks over her, not to interrupt their better path of linear destination

She closes her eyes only to be awoken by those lost on the belief of linear destination

Exhaling she makes room for more

Circular upwards, a lesson we all eventually learn

Like leaves blowing in the wind

She leaves them to lay alone in their destined shallow waters

~Alisa Hutton

Pass The Salt

salt

Poetic confetti tossed with brazen flare

Words pouring with the clarity of a smooth, Russian vodka

Ignore the bite, something so fine can do no harm

Watch my eyes

They will tell you everything you do not hear

Listen to my words

You will see nothing at all

Touch my lips

I share them with many

Reach for my heart so you can feel me pull yours out

Sorry…you left your light on and I tripped on your soul

I was looking for mine while lost in my dark

I thought you were special

My shiny new thing

Pass the salt

~Alisa Hutton

The Day She Awoke

mossy-oak

She is nothing wrong

Cracks in her foundation no longer void of fill

Merely a shared opportunity for her light to shine on darkness

Shadow blooming as a reminder, she stands not alone

As tall as the mossy oak that spoke to her the secrets of the quiet

Grand in her roots

Skinned knees not a portrait of her fall but of her noble rise and heal

A story vulnerably spoken in all three acts

Her heart full of pain reminds her

Hold your badge high

Proudly

Feel

Live

The day she awoke

Returning to love

~Alisa Hutton

 

 

 

 

Wishbone

 

 

storm

Perhaps the heavens opened in storm to remind her of wave

A needed wash of the tides that will recede once more

Discomfort of the cold and wet to feel her warmth

In tired limb and lacking spirit a thought that maybe humanity can be found

Simplicity of connection and trust of those who stand in show

Words of selfish silence seemingly echo in slow

Looking in the mirror she sees us all

Floundering at dusk and rising in hope

Hold on to that wishbone friend, we might have nothing more

Today

She allows the rain and darkness to consume her in gentle whole

With a glimmer of faith

That after it is all done

She will feel herself and walk in stride once more

~Alisa Hutton