Almost – D.G.J.



“ Our little envelope of time we share during the hustle and bustle of these green country days in Oklahoma like constellations of yore or some intergalactic planetary Z world. Sometimes two meet in harmony, come together and orbit around each other. At first a tender orbit that starts in a moment & leads to clasping, gripping, kissing, licking, holding into a thrust & release. Release back from each other and their orbit ….back to their worlds …back to their separateness….for a moment until the arc begins again. “ (he said)

What you didn’t do was sing to me one more time before said release.
There was no rain to save me from the drought cracking away at my spirit.
What you didn’t do was even ask before you ran. (again)
You assumed he would mean more than you,
or hold some sacred place he had never touched or known.
You didn’t see my world crumbling and falling around me.
You never really stepped inside.
I have spent the last 1097 nights alone.
With some days more bleak than this longing since your absence.
I recite you every moment like a prayer or poem.
How can I forget the sudden ferocity of our commingling
Here where more than flesh remembers,
in faint drawn out sounds.
I am but a ghost walking empty streets
draped in great stars of white hoarfrost,
in time that thickens and closes around me.
This is written with brushes
made from the bones of what could have been.
You folded my heart like it was paper and crushed it beneath your shoe.
(she said)

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved


Endings Begin Thus Quietly

The fortune cookie at dinner read,
“ You will make many changes before settling down happily”.
In that moment, I knew there was more to love than you.
Strange the way something so simple can speak in signs, significations.
The way omens are visions and we will suddenly see what is sitting before us.
I knew the road behind had not led me to you, so much as to this place.
Where I would awaken within and see that there was another thing
I was meant to be doing this entire time.
Years wasted and gone in what was never anything more
than pictures we painted for those watching.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved

In My Verse- New Poem


Bed Yourself In My Verse

I love the way
you bed yourself
in my verse
making each song
one about you.
Earth’s sweet perfume
fragrant on night air,
your memory
the breeze that caresses.
A muse, my delight
from whence such craving
springs forth,
like swollen fruit raised
up in offering.
Under your skin
the moon is shining alive,
like the light that
radiates out from you.
I love the way
you bed yourself
in my verse
like awaking to the suns
of our ancestors.
Something so primal
and natural calls
and if there were
but a moment,
i’d hide in you
To be carried close
buried deep in your soul
like the warmth
of a sunbeam or melody.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley, All Rights Reserved



the past
only makes me
miss it more.
All the old places are gone.
People and attitudes have changed.
Sometimes the memories
are more painful than
the joy I remembered.
I still find the need to embrace
out of fear that we would forget.
(those we loved and cherished)
We can let them know
that they are still loved,
our heart remembers their lives &
aches for their passing.
They come back
to console me when I mourn.

© 2013 Melissa Fry Beasley and Carlos Guevara, All Rights Reserved


Also they were kind enough to inclue my poem 1st Rain in “That’s How Romantic Monday Goes” here:

Started the job …


Finally started into new job as literary editor for the magazine. Let me tell tell you, my boss rocks. He is THE NICEST guy. So attentive, appreciative, and respectful. APPRECIATIVE about EVERYTHING. How unusual is that? But, there is this ….. this poor guys has 101,000 something messages that need going through. (not exaggerating) Mind you this is not meant to be my full time job. This is nothing in comparison to what my job description with the publication actually entails. In a couple days time, there are still around 95,000 some odd messages to go! Have also started going through my section, contacting my lit, art, and music friends to include them in this as well. Have things in the works there. I am just saying this is really going to be an adventure. I think i’m already addicted and will probably love every minute of this, but i’m seeing already how not easy this will be. I have learned the most beautiful things in this world are true LABORS of love. This is something i’m ready to give birth to and watch grow! So much potential. I love those moments in life (so few and far between) when something can be exactly what you make it. As big or small, as good or bad, as grassroots or global. What is more expressive than the arts, literature, music, painting, dance, fashion? Who would not appreciate and enjoy the job of “discovering and introducing of beauty and talent to the world”? How cool is that?

Oh! None of this even makes mention that i’m suddenly feeling all Neal Boulton-ish. hahaha I wish, right? If I possed a quark of HIS genius i’d be dangerous. (picture devil horns here lol)

Also this means all you art, music, literature, and fashion forward type friends of mine, including photographers, please come forward if you’d like to be featured online and possibly in print too! But do it mostly please because you love me and wanna help me out by supporting my latest venture! 🙂


I heard a song/soul today that both broke and healed my heart at the same time. The breaking was not the bad kind. It was not a breaking of body or spirit. It was a freeing and it was like when you are breaking a horse. When it is scared and you are a bit uneasy as well, because this is just before you figure that horse out. This is just before the two of you lock eyes, share breath, and really see each other for the first time.
(understanding this is after a few approaches, must dust, and many tears lol) This is the moment when your heart tells you what that horse needs to be whole and to be settled. To know just the way to proceed to prepare that glorious beast to be bridled, saddled and eventually the reward in riding. It was a breaking like that, if the horse were a man and the whisperer a heart. Like that also if you could understand a heart that desired to be ridden every bit as much as a man or horse. We could call our heart woman. The more I think of it, it was like a brook that has become so full and flowing that the water, which is joy, just spilled over the edges. Not enough to cause damage, only enough to let you know there was room for no more. It had found what was just the right amount for the ripples to tickle the bank lightly, before retreating.

Sometimes we see magic in life, sometimes we learn the divine can be found in the simple and ordinary. Sometimes something just feels like it has always been a part of you or you of it. Before and after lifetimes it had found you, the way you find it now, and will continue to …….. because this thing was meant to be.

* an exerpt