Pandemic Stress
My eyes are red and puffy, shoulders tensed up to my ears my stomach’s got gymnastics moves, I’m sweating sitting here. My neurons won’t turn on bright the fog lights…
Essays and Poetry by Barbara Powell
My eyes are red and puffy, shoulders tensed up to my ears my stomach’s got gymnastics moves, I’m sweating sitting here. My neurons won’t turn on bright the fog lights…
I’m worried that the world won’t care when I slip and fall today. I’m worried that my scraped up knees are reason for your dismay. I’m worried that the best…
I’m going on a field trip to that place deep in my mind. It’s dark in there and its terrain is of the slippery sloping kind. I have bundled up…
You’re a stranger yet a friend with your leashed up dog in hand. I see you walking down my street– just another doggo with his man. My boxer, Blue, he…
Please take your soppy mop And swish it through my mind I have a couple memories there That I’d appreciate you find And swiffer jet that shit away To dump…
Can I please see my childhood memories, every little one? I’d like to wrap them gently and snuggle them in boxes; I’d like to know they’re all still there and…
I’m relearning all the lessons remembering what I forgot, this year has been quite a pill swallowed and then caught in my throat where chakra’s blue was supposed to grunt…
There’s something about the inner workings of a clock on the kitchen wall. Perhaps it’s the way the gears click together and roll in unison, tick tock tick as her…