love offering …

love offering …(box of leaves)

I brought you this box of leaves. I know it isn’t a special occasion and you weren’t expecting anything. But, I had this box, and I thought it would be the perfect size and shape to hold the gift I wanted you to have.

I know it sn’t wrapped. I didn’t take the time to add any bling – no swag to brag about. Still, I thought it would suit this occasion.

And see, I hand picked each of these leaves that lie here so serenely in this old shoe box. Some I chose for color, the perfect mash-up of summer to fall – still sporting a green smidge at center and blooming out to the edges with campfire yellows and reds.

Leaf as fuel
Leaf as covering
Leaf as shelter
Leaf as beauty
Leaf as me

You took the closed box from my hands
pried open the top and peeked inside
as if you feared its contents

You smiled a sly smile upon seeing your gift
and shut the top back quickly
 after taking only a snippit of a second to admire
then looked down at your feet

Leaf as comfort
Leaf as sponge
Leaf as warmth

Leaf as art
Leaf as you

You looked up at the sky
and watched the leaves twirl down
and catch a breeze
falling gently to touch the earth

and you said
this is a shoe box
I was expecting shoes

Leaf as love
Leaf as faith
Leaf as spirit
Leaf as conscious
Leaf as us

-billie marie

Looking for more love poems? My recently published collection includes sketches and poems that bear witness to the cyle of romantic love and relationships.

Available at Amazon

Poetic Permission: News Now

Lately, I’ve been deeply moved by so many stories of oppression and persecution in the news. It seems as if women and men all over the world now refuse to be kept down and the tide of freedom is gaining momentum. All of these strong emotions inspire me to write. What else is there to do when faced with so much horror so far outside the span of our control?

Western Saharah

While watching a Democracy Now! news report about the brave women of Western Sahara and their fight for self-directed governance, that little snarky voice in the back of my brain said,  “Ha! And men use the word pussy to call out a coward.”

news now

Now, she’s telling the story of the indigenous peoples of Morocco in Western Sahara.
Genocide and oppression cloaks the earth; no race is safe, no religion blameless.
The women are out on the front lines.
They go out into the streets and demonstrate publicly.
Police and military beat and arrest them.

The women are draped in brightly colored robes
with complicated patterns,
intricate designs bringing to mind
all the lush blossoming places on the planet.  
Sahrawi women speak for Sahrawi peoples.

Sky and blood and life.
The colors of their robes reveal the pulse of the people,
even as same coverings hide lost hair and gained scars.
She is strong. Look how strong,
how sane she seems.
Yet, the men will still say
the police are cowards for beating women.
Scum of the earth pussies.

-billie marie

All of life is a poem

:a series of original quotes about what we are and how we do this thing we call life.


All of life is a poem
And we, her syllabic truths

-billie marie

There is a coyote living in the park where I walk with my dog, Zora, many mornings. We saw the animal, what looked like a coyote, walking out on the frozen lagoon one early Sunday morning. A co-worker confirmed a sighting while driving to work a couple of days after that. The next day, during another early morning meander through the park, Zora decided to play copycat and walk out onto the ice. She seemed right at ease, like she belonged. When I saw her out there, I didn’t see her as a confined house pet. I saw her as the coyote, without her leash and collar – free.

What is a poem, but an expression of life. And what is life, but a beautiful poem; spoken and chanted, built and picked apart, constantly being written by us all. How do we live it? Do we live in fear? Or, do we chose to live free?