Michaela's Musings

kiss of life rubbing my thumbs over silk soft hands the prickly tickle of his stubble on my cheek giggling and moaning into his kisses his mouth, red rimmed from my lipstick XOXO, Michaela

Happy May Day everyone! As spring deepens and summer slowly approaches, I wanted to write something divinely feminine and aged like a fine wine. This piece was inspired by Women Who Run with the Wolves  by Clarissa Pinkola Estés. Ode to La Loba The most unassuming saint. Patron of sunbleached bones. Some cracked, others worn down by the passage of time. Ankles, legs, knees, and necks binding together once more; Resurrected by your timeworn song. Your fanged smiles Scare off those who wish to subdue. Hunters incapable of dancing Under the silver tears of the moon. O Wild Woman,  Loba Luminoso, Your howling laughter echoes Across the golden horizon. Inviting us to follow. XOXO, Michaela

  Wake Up Call  I awoke to the gentle hum of the HVAC, Swaddling me in a cocoon of warmth. Outside, the wind howled, Rattling the window. Desperate to enter. A chill ran up my legs, Weighed down with a foreign heaviness. Sandpaper scales scraping against soft flesh. I peeked under the cashmere bedding, A frigid lump of fear formed at what I saw. Spirals of dusty earth Patterned with black diamonds Coiled comfortably around my feet. Slitted pupils staring off into an abyss I could not see. Maybe it was cold too. Searching for its own soft place. XOXO, Michaela

Note: This poem was part of an assignment for my poetry class. It's inspired by and responds to a fellow classmate's poem. A Meditation on Love There is a widow,  Glossy and black. Crimson staining her delicate mouth. A callous predator Claiming her victim. But she loved him. Adored his tiny, tan frame And the smattering of freckles  Dancing across his back. Loved him so fiercely she Diced him into tiny cubes, Spooning him into her mouth. So that when their children are born, He is the first thing they know. And she, Swollen with the fruits of her love, Returns to her web. XOXO, Michaela

  All Apples Rot Here is the house, Four hundred years in the making. Built with bleached bones and Black blood. Slicked with centuries of sweat. Burn marks etched into the hardwood floor. Nothing more American than apple pie. Gooey brown sugar and rancid flesh Served up to the highest bidder. Rot wriggles from beneath, As maggots eat away at the crust. We’re sent to eat in the kitchen When company comes. Dirty dishes pile high, Rank resentment wafts through the air. But we laugh. Nothing lasts forever. A teeny dent, A tiny crack in this mythical melting pot. XOXO, Michaela

Lapse I can’t remember her laugh.  Maybe it was deep and warm,  Laced with Old Texan charm.  But then again, There’s a lot I don’t remember. Moths feast on the last photos my mind saved, Taunting me with glimpses Of honey blonde curls and bronzed skin. What was her name again? There is a woman at the end of my bed. Cloaked in white, Hazel eyes mirroring mine. Shining with guilt or relief, I can’t say. She glides towards me, Light as a feather. Soft hands cup my face And I am seven years old again. XOXO, Michaela

Letter to a Bad Boyfriend Note: This poem was published to Penn State's KLIO Link:  KLIO Spring '26 I need to take the trash out. Bile climbs to the top of my throat, The sour stench of your cruelty choking me. Flies swarm, Ready to bite. You’re comfortable now. Stuffing yourself full As rot spills over. Too complacent to leave Or be thrown out. Slimy peels and moldy meat litter the floor. Daring me, Taunting me. Because you know deep down, I am too scared to touch the mess. You promised to protect me. To keep the maggots at bay. But you let them eat away          At the rind of our love. I’ve grown tired Of that godforsaken smell. This is my life, And I don’t want you here anymore. Get the fuck out of my house. XOXO, Michaela

  Beyond The waves pulled the girl out to sea. Its powerful hands enveloping her like a mother would a child. Powdery sand swirling underfoot. Salt spun air fills her nose. So tiny amongst the endless expanse of turquoise and cobalt. Alien in her own world. Should she even return? To their cruel comments And hearts of malice. Or remain with the creatures of deep. With their jellied heads, Frilled gills and puffed spikes. Her father’s harsh voice shatters the reverie. What will it be? Fear is never knowing what lurks below, Regret is never venturing beyond the reef, But freedom is losing sight of the horizon. Choose wisely. XOXO, Michaela

Happy Sunday, everyone! I've been on a mythology and ancient history kick recently, and this is the result. This poem was inspired by the biblical Vision of the Valley of Dry Bones in Ezekiel. Happy reading! The Valley of Dry Bones An endless valley, beat down with heat.  Bleached bones litter the ground,  Abandoned by their god.  Some cracked, others worn down by the passage of time.  Unyielding in its march forward.  Damned for eternity.  Lying in wait.  For what?  Scorching sand pinches my toes as I journey across the barren land.  In my veins, lies the answer.  Blood blessed by an elder monk.  Meant to heal, soothe, and restore.  I must make it to the other side.  The wild wind howls, breathing life back into these worn cadavers.  Hollow rattling fills the air.  Ankles, legs, knees, and necks binding together once more.  Inky voids stare into my flesh and blood.  Face to face with what their god has...

Hi everyone! Still going strong with poetry, I wanted to share some haikus I wrote yesterday! Hope you enjoy! A Warm Spot warm sun gently glows bees buzz by with the soft breeze bejeweled leaves sway Late Night Talking ocean eyes meet mine we laugh and chat late at night i hope he likes me Midnight Sky we roam the darkness full moon shines down to guide us we are the weirdos XOXO, Michaela

Hello! Here's a poem I recently wrote for my creative writing course. I'm really proud of it and wanted to share it with the world. Hope you enjoy! The Downsides of Divahood sparkling sequins / flashing lights / rosy reds and plum purples adorn her face / always glamorous and acclaimed / they whisper diva / she primps and preens / for the stage and tv / everywhere she goes, everyone knows / who she is and what she stands for / she’s hailed for her beauty / her brains and mystique / finally they cry / a celebrity with substance / she speaks on politics / on genocide and climate change / critiques the crooked in their gilded bubbles / in comments and red carpets, they praise and adore her / she is the people’s diva / but as the story goes / women who soar the highest, fall fastest / she is deemed entitled and rude / with a stuck-up attitude / with sneers they call her a diva / she is cast aside / now forced to hide from those once singing her praises / in 20 or 30 years, t...

 Hi everyone! Following through on my promise, I wanted to start sharing some of my own poetry! I wrote this poem to express my admiration and gratitude to my female ancestors. As a young black woman, I can't trace my lineage back too far back due to the effects of slavery. I'd like to imagine that there's dozens of women watching over me as their dream incarnate. It's not meant to be award-winning, just as an outlet for my feelings. Hope you enjoy it 💖. who is she? she was born from a holy rage, an ancestral rage. a bloodstained fury from bleeding mothers and devastated daughters. sacrifice, pain, and power run through her veins. liberation is her lullaby. within that rage, a vow was made. one of love and protection, filled with the promise of a better future. to see a day where their descendants can thrive with no fear. she is their wildest dreams come to fruition. sunkissed skin glows like living honey hair like clouds form a halo around her head. generous hips, pil...