To Write

To write is to
Dream the insides of your brain
Tangibly
To escape reality
And become
Your soul
To feed the world
With your best-rooted
Secrets.
To write is to
Sandwich
your fantasies with flavor
To command order
To your thoughts
To settle for nothing
But the honest truth
Even if it's a lie.
To write is to become
Complete.

~Shana C. Sloan

Refresh

Tears fall--
They needed to
But the dam
Is still
Very full.
Tread lightly
Or don't.
Just know
Ahead of time
What you're
Getting
Into.

~Shana C. Sloan

Gold

Old friends:
Faces comfortable
Voices Known
Always.
Peripheral vision
Serves me well
As I view
Where
Much of
My life
Began.
My heart
Smiles.

~Shana C. Sloan

Well Deserved

Did you buy cigarettes
The man with the mediocre mustache demanded gruffly
No...his depleted wife replied hesitantly
We'll have to get a carton at Costco then
The man curtly responded
Then he turned and walked away from her
Confident
and
Satisfied
with a Snuggle dryer sheet
Stuck
to the heel of his
Cowboy Boot.

~Shana C. Sloan

Heavy

A mis-fit of
sorts
I see the patches
and the dirt
A floppy hat
is dead weight
on her head
Pushing on through the night
preferring to ignore
the lights and sounds
of the city
Distracted momentarily
by a stray
she reaches out to touch it
I see the patches
and the dirt
and the love that
is dead weight
on her heart.

~Shana C. Sloan

Scattered

Lost in the
chaos
and
buried in the
foothills
of Lifestuff.
Soul aches
to crawl out
to live!
to grant wishes!
to
SHINE!

~Shana C. Sloan

Meeting Granny

His hand on her hand
A tribute to life
Though neither one knew
The significance
Of the touch
She needed him
That day
And he needed her
Everyday
Just to be.
Wrinkles and young
Skin
Toothless grins
All around
The gap of five generations
Closed
That day
His hand in her hand
A tribute to
Life!


~Shana C. Sloan

Hear I Go

Welcome to my blog. I dedicate this to my family and friends, but especially my husband who has encouraged me to do this for YEARS.

I have always been an artist of sorts: photographer, writer, poet. And a very shy one at that.
Recently I found piles of my work hiding in our basement. Untouched, uncovered, but mostly unread. By anyone. Except me.

So HEAR I GO.