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Category Archives: Writing

“What Does Love Feel Like” a poem

16 Wednesday Nov 2022

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love, poem, poetry

“What Does Love Feel Like” © Rebecca R. Pierce

What does love feel like?

It is a caged bird
When a hand lifts the gate.
Tasting the blue of the skies,
It dips its wings in light,
Settles into a nest, and knows
What home feels like.

It is an endless well
Whose water longs to touch
The lips of their beloved
To quench a thirst as much as
To be taken in.

It is a mirror facing a mirror
Staring into the face of eternity,
Of infinite possibilities stretched
Into frame after frame after frame
Of shimmering reflection.
Show me who I am.
I’ll show you who you are.

Me, you, we—
The collective consciousness
Of every particle vibrating
Even in stillness.

It is where
The heart swirls in two directions at once,
A supernova and black hole in one;
Exploding, contracting,
Giving, taking,
Push and pull and pulse….
Every atom alive and dancing
With the universe
To music that sounds like
Yes.

“Holy Grail” a poem

06 Sunday Nov 2022

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love, lust, poem, poetry

“Holy Grail” © 2022 Rebecca R. Pierce

Bring to me your holy grail
That I may dip my lips
Into a brew both strong yet frail.
Pulse against my hungry sips.
I want your heart between my teeth.
Love is a feral beast to be beneath.

Shake me for what fruit you will.
Between the undulations of yours and mine
We’ll make such sweet and heady wine
And every empty chalice fill.

The nectar spills in overflowing bliss
Until everything is distilled down to this:
What truths may come, what truths may go,
In this moment, I hold only you.
You are the one I wish to know,
And no other drink will do.

Author’s Note: This was written for a poetry prompt.

“The Forgotten Ones” a poem

06 Sunday Nov 2022

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ghosts, poetry, shadow work

“The Forgotten Ones” © 2022 Rebecca R. Pierce

Clouds webbed across the full face of the moon
Like tattered shrouds that were carelessly strewn,
Pulled threadbare through the bony hands of trees
By a howling wind who fell upon its knees
Silenced in defeat or hushed in prayer,
Sliced down like all the dreams that went nowhere.

For what are ghosts but forgotten desires,
The smoky ashes of yesterday’s fires?
Rejected shadows from the dark night of our souls,
Who—fragmented, incomplete—hope again to be whole.
Restless wanderers, hungry is the haunt,
The anguished ache of an aborted want.

Chained in nightmares, how we toss and turn
To witness our demons’ raw, naked yearn.
These we cast to Hell and renamed Sin.
Do they claw us apart to get back in?
They turn our hearts to a box of regrets,
A fast, fading beat of “not yet, not yet.”

Promises broken, buried like bones in death,
Arise from their graves like a misty breath
Howling for heaven, but they’ll not enter soon.
They creep across the full face of the moon.

Author’s Note: I completely forgot to post this for Halloween. Ah well!
Better late than never. Enjoy!

It’s That Time of the Year Again….

25 Sunday Oct 2020

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My free short stories can be downloaded here.

I’m Going to Get A Little Personal

29 Tuesday Sep 2020

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Usually, I post poems if I want to get personal. It allows me to gift wrap my thoughts and feelings in riddle form and present it to you for you to figure out and interpret as you will. I prefer to keep this blog strictly about writing. But today, I’m going to deviate from that just this once. I promise I won’t make a habit of it. I have other places I can spill my tears.

This year has been absolute shit. My 12 year marriage dissolved because while I spent the last 14 years in love with him, his true love turned out to be alcohol, enough that he’d hide it and lie about it. Naturally, there’s been no small amount of gaslighting involved. It’s a messy divorce, made messier by the fact that in a dominating move, he decided to keep my daughter from me. What was supposed to be a weekend visit ended up in a hostage situation. I’ve had two visits with her for a few hours since June 19th. My video chats are now limited to the weekends only. He’s chosen doctors for her, enrolled her in school, and in short, cut me out from making any decisions involving her wellbeing. I am not allowed to parent my own child. And no, I am not abusive or negligent toward my own daughter that this alcoholic would be “the better parent.”

To say that my life has turned upside down is perhaps the biggest understatement. My personal progress greatly resembles crawling out of my own grave, zombie-style, in hopes that I might undergo a resurrection.

And I have.

I’m getting my life back together piece by piece. I’m learning to be alone for perhaps the first time. I’ve never been one to be single long. At nearly eight months, this is the longest period of celibacy I’ve had. For once, I’m not hating it. I actually enjoy it. And if you knew me from my past, your jaw might be hitting the floor right about now, but I swear it’s true. I am allowed a sense of clarity I don’t think I’ve ever had.

But so I don’t go completely mad, I have acquired a muse. The three poems, “Dandelions, Stars, and You,” “Oyster with a Pearl,” and “Please” are about him, actually. (Every artist needs a muse, right?) I probably shouldn’t say more about him except this: he doesn’t just inspire me to write; he inspires me to better myself.

Anyway, thank you for listening. This is what’s going on with me, and probably explains a few of my earlier poems. You can see a progression between “Exile” and “Flight.” There are a few poems in between that might not make sense, but that’s a story for another day. Until then, be well, my lovelies. I’ll be here.

“Please”

29 Tuesday Sep 2020

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“Please” © 2020 Rebecca R. Pierce

I want to taste your moan,
To slip your tongue inside my mouth
Hot and sticky sweet.
Your skin colliding against mine
Writhing slippery.
Part my legs and push inside.
Let me milk you gently.
Let me have this one piece of you
Deep in me.
Come claim me, make me cry
That I can hold you within
At last, my love, at last.
Invade my every secret.
Let me unfurl myself for you
Exposed throat, hands grasping your hair
Pushing your kiss against my pulse.
Bite me, mark me,
I am yours.
Please
Whatever you want of me,
Take it.
Cup my breasts, keep my heart,
Dig your fingers into my ribs,
My hips.
Pin me in place.
I don’t want to go anywhere but here
With you,
Only you.

But how do I pull you into me?
Show me the way
To your mind,
To your bed,
To your love.
I am yours.
Take whatever you want of me,
Only want me.
Please.

“Oyster with a Pearl”

29 Tuesday Sep 2020

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“Oyster with a Pearl” © 2020 Rebecca R. Pierce

Guard your secrets like an oyster with a pearl.
I won’t pry.
I wouldn’t want to hurt you.
I’ve listened to the crashing waves and know
A volume of words can be spoken in silence.
I want to run my fingers along your rough edges
And press my ear to your shell
Wishing I were your pearl and for you to hold me.
If you open not for me, do not open for another.
I will cry all the salt in the sea.
You have walked away from me once
While I stood impotently watching you leave
With sand in my throat.

“Dandelions, Stars, and You”

29 Tuesday Sep 2020

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“Dandelions, Stars, and You” © 2020 Rebecca R. Pierce

There you are, lying among
Unblown wishes, dandelion fluff.
You, with your eyes of steel,
Piercing through everything I feel.
And yet, somehow, it’s not enough:
My heart is yet a song unsung.

I remember our last kiss
Came with the rising sun
Where you, me, and the light were one.
I was drinking gold from your lips
When your mouth met mine in gentle eclipse:
A moment of perfect bliss.

I ache to lie next to you amid the grass,
Watching the changing colors of the sky
Beckon forth one by one the shy
Stars to shine their truth;
To kiss again as we did in youth
And not let another two decades pass.

Behind the Scenes of “The Itch”

16 Wednesday Sep 2020

Posted by rebeccarpierce in Writing

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First off, if you haven’t already read “The Itch,” you can read it in the 50th issue of Sirens Call Magazine. It’s free, and also includes various other stories to send shivers up your spine. Secondly, this is a Behind the Scenes article so if you wish to avoid any spoilers, stop right now, read the tale and then get back to me here. All set? OK then. Without further ado, here we go….

The story is about a person who goes to a bar and has a random encounter, to “take care of an itch,” so to speak. Seems harmless enough, but then when they experience an odd rash, they start to worry what it means. Now, many of my beta readers missed this. Notice how I said “person” and used the non-gendered “they?” I never once mentioned the sex of the main character, nor even give them a name.

There’s a reason for that. Since this is a horror story, I didn’t want to slut-shame a woman, attack a gay man, or anyone who identifies as non-binary. The last thing I wanted was for someone to smile smugly and nod, “Well, (s)he had it coming, obviously….”

Gender didn’t matter in the course of the narrative, so I left it out. It’s the story of a person who gets preyed upon by a monster. That’s what I wanted people to focus on.

What inspired this tale was a view of a random video I found whilst scrolling Facebook one day. It gave me such a bad reaction that even now, thinking about it, makes my skin run cold and draw my shoulders up to my ears in disgust. I’m talking about the hatching of suranim or pipa pipa toads.

If you have no idea what I’m talking about, I mean these. Warning: do not view if you have trypophobia or a fear of holes. This will most definitely trigger you. I do not have trypophobia, but this was a bit much.

So naturally, I had to do what any annoying roommate would do. “Oh, my god, this is so gross! Check it out.” Yep, that’s the kind of girl I am. Sharing is caring. I got it into my head that I wanted to recreate the sensations I felt viewing this video. My monster was based off the suranim toad which is why their sexual encounter lasted a crazy twelve hours long. I wasn’t just being over dramatic. This was a nod to their biology. For more fun facts on the suranim toad, click here.

I’ve since dubbed “the Itch” my “demented frog prince story.” If there’s a moral here, it’s this: be careful of who you kiss, practice safe sex, and get to a doctor in a timely fashion, for fuck’s sake. Waiting to see if they’ll heal on their own has got to be the stupidest mistake my character made.

Alright, wonderful readers, that’s it for now. I hope you enjoyed this Behind the Scenes. Until next time.



I’ve Got Your Sweet Treats Right Here

12 Wednesday Feb 2020

Posted by rebeccarpierce in Writing

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Happy Valentines Day promo

 

Get your copies at Amazon.

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