About Angela

I write. I'm no professional, I'm not published, aside from a few poems, and I don't write for money or fame. I write because I must. In my younger years I wrote. I feel like I'd only just begun to exercise that passion when life expected me to become, and I let it. A college student, career woman, wife, mother, small business owner, friend, neighbor. And on. For years I didn't pick up a pen. I was too busy becoming what I thought I should become. My heart was overflowing - it was breathing and I wasn't listening. About four years ago, I began the process of unbecoming, of shedding the layers of expectation. Of getting lost so I could be found, of asking the right questions so I could find comfort in the being lost. Of just being me. I began to listen to my heart. I picked up my pen, and unbecame a poet. I'm inviting you to listen, too. Welcome, Angela Kay 💜

Static

There’s no music in these headphones,
No rhythmic beat a’playin’,
There’s no cool lyrics to sing to,
For dancin’ or hip swayin’

There’s no music in these headphones,
No recharging chord,
There’s no lullaby for comfort,
When times get really hard

There’s no music in these headphones,
There’s no power supply,
There’s nothing but the static, 
And the tears that have run dry

-image via Pixabay; Mental Health Awareness Month

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Fate

they say all that will ever be 
is written before it happens;
there is nothing we can do to stop it –
but I tried

my soul became raw from fighting against itself;
everywhere I walked, my fate walked with me,
dragging along, crashing into my heels,
a suitcase with two broken wheels

they say all that will ever be 
is written before it happens;
there is nothing we can do to stop it –
but I tried

lugging around that suitcase, 
I told myself fate was that which nestled itself inside,
and the only way to outrun it, 
was to keep that zipper closed tightly, 
and to fight like hell

they say all that will ever be 
is written before it happens;
there is nothing we can do to stop it –
but I tried 

what they don’t say,
is that fate is a living, breathing thing,
which is not static;
it grows and evolves along side us,
wisdom lying in wait,
a fairy godmother with no wand

they say all that will ever be 
is written before it happens;
there is nothing we can do to stop it –
but I tried 

what they don’t say,
is that truth and love are magic,
and seeking it is our fate,
and the only way to find it,
is to stop fighting against it,
to unpack,
to listen

they say all that will ever be 
is written before it happens;
there is nothing we can do to stop it –
so I stopped trying 

-Image via Pinterest 

Snow, a Quadrille 

once, her world sagged 
under the weight of the storm 

today, the storm is finally receding;
rain’s long, wet fingers caress,
hope falling in chilly droplets,
cleansing in goosefleshed trails 

there is something peaceful about her,
as if snow has settled inside her soul

-image via Pixabay; created and shared as part of dVerse’s Quadrille Monday

Don’t See Me


opportunity doesn’t knock, it slithers,
it wriggles and burrows with its chattering teeth,  
until it tunnels down, down, down,
clawing and eating away at my insides –
and I feed it

I nourish it with eyes that see, but pretend not to,
with haunting excuses hovering in wait, 
gathering to lock fingers and create a wall no human could possibly scale 
alone

they hide my most precious secret

knees to chest, arms wrapped tightly around, 
and eyes unable to meet yours – 

don’t see me

I am not what you think
(I am not what I wish I was)

-image via Pinterest

Silence 


it closes in on you, the silence,
the pressure of it robbing all the oxygen,
absence coaxing a primal voice to arise that is something no one can imagine until it’s heard

twisting and splintering as it rises,
it’s wicked tongue lies to you,
convincing you, corrupting things,
loading itself with shrapnel from dark crevices and welding it all together into sharp ammunition

it fires and fires, stealing from you,
leaving you without a single word of comfort

only smoke, wafting in its wake

-image via Pinterest

Anew

the sweet glow of January sun
chasing away the cold,
droplets of April rain cascading,
making new of old

a deep, soul-cleansing breath, 
after a stress-filled day,
simple, meditative calm,
chasing worry away

color-bursting lilies a’bloom,
shaking sleep from my eyes,
mourning doves a’greeting,
a euphonic surprise

that’s how it feels
to sit next to you,
and breathe in your presence; 
my souls feels anew

-image via Tumblr