I’m not a poet, never really have been. I have written a handful of poems in my lifetime, usually when I’m very emotional. They are extremely rough as far as meter and form, really just emotions poured out on paper. They give voice to my anger, my pain, my hope, my desire.

Ben is the poet. He is the one in love with meter, rhyme, form, all the bits and pieces of poetry. He is skilled and always willing to challenge himself to new meter and form, and I admired him for that.

I am much more comfortable writing descriptions of others, creative nonfiction, I suppose. I love writing fiction, yes, but I think I’ve been more inclined to the creative nonfiction lately, no? In any case, here are a few of my poems.

Farewell to the Sea

By Melissa Gibson

5/29/06 – Memorial Day – To my Aunt and Grandfather

When you left, I sang for you.

I sang to the sea.

I couldn’t touch you,

Couldn’t hug you to say farewell.

So I said it to the sea.

My dirge was not my own

But it was intended for you.

Alone. Apart. I sang.

Others could not understand.

But I did not do it for them.

I turned to the sea, always alive.

And I sang to it.

Because I never got to say goodbye.

Composed on Friday, Oct. 4, 2002

I saw the stars tonight.
I know others have said it
With words more beautiful than mine.
But, in it, I find something precious,
Something beautiful, something divine.
I know this world isn’t some
Miscellaneous ball in space.
I know that Someone is watching,
Loving me in that most beautiful place.
When all the world is busily humming,
With no time for me.
I know I can look up at the sky,
And find comfort in what I see.
I saw the stars tonight.

Empty Holes

Fall 2004

I wish there was a hole where my heart is.
A hole, big and empty.
Empty holes don’t hurt.
They don’t grow sad and despair.
Empty holes don’t make mistakes.
They don’t hurt others.
They just sit there, open to receive.
Whether someone stumbles in
Or jumps in.
Either way, it’s there.
Empty holes can’t feel the exquisiteness of joy,
Only to have it infringed upon and destroyed.
Empty holes can’t have strings broken, torn away.
Empty holes can’t lash out,
Even without meaning to.
In short,
Empty holes don’t feel.

But I do.

Sleeping in Vain

Spring 2004

I waited for Sleep,
But Sleep never came.
No fading from reality,
No black and red train
To bear me away
To parts unknown.
To the place where Dreams stay,
Where they play under skies
Of parchment and in seas of rainbow.
I would be a Visitor,
Curiosity my guise.
I’d take my little ragdoll,
The one Mom gave me,
With the red dress and
Sewn-on hat. She
Is my one link back
To a world steeped
Hour upon hour in nighttime black.
But Sleep never came.

Musings of a Warrior

Jan, 13, 2005

Give me a bow and let me shoot or a sword and let me fight.
Do not lock me away in a room for my own protection.
Let me battle those who attack me and not only let others fight for me.
Let me face my enemy and stand beneath his battering; let him know who he attacks.
Let me ply the skill you have so painstakingly taught me and let me follow the prayers you have prayed for me.
Let silk and steel be one, satin and fire, iron and velvet.
Let me bind my breast and heft my shield and blade.
Let me bear the marks of my King and Lord upon my skin.
Let my voice that has only sung songs, now raise itself in a cry of courage.
If you love me, then let me go.
Let me do battle beside you, stand by your side.
Let me be not only the princess but the warrior as well.