Alright, so I cheated a little for this week’s Tumblr pick.  I discovered Amanda Oliver’s amazing corner of Tumblr because she was a Tumblr staff pick, but I couldn’t not share the share.  Her poems while relatable are entertaining in that — my best friend is revealing secrets — sort of way.  So I hope you love her words and work as much as we do.  Link up to her Tumblr below.

Symptoms are usually the same

I forgot
that poems come better
when I’m real sad.
When I don’t care anymore about syllables
or the length of the lines
or how many stanzas.
When I don’t carry the judgement,
but just the thoughts no one wants to say.
No one wants to read about them, either.
I should be in bed, but sometimes I am so tired
and so afraid of how tired I am
that I stay wide awake.
You know how the ground freezes?
I think about knocking on it until my knuckles bleed
just to prove that my hands can’t undo
the cold.

It was sunny when I was in London

London customs guard says,
“Only one day? Gonna have a piss on us and go?”
No room to say no,
but I make it to the River Thames.
Find a red phone booth stickered:
“This is not a photo opportunity!”
But, whose to say.
London airport security guard says,
“You say sandals funny”
and I don’t feel so bad about my picture
or the fact that it always rains.

Advice for my daughter IX

don’t you ever
shut that pretty mouth,
keep talking.
Keep talking until they tell you it’s ugly
needs more lipstick,
is or is not worth kissing.
Keep talking whether they give it a medal,
categorize it,
try to stuff it
or put an index finger to it.
Don’t you dare whisper when they tell you to.
Tell them whispers won’t come from you
and don’t worry when they’re about you.
Your words, baby.
Your words.
They’re everything,
Do something.
(Put good food in it, too. Don’t worry about your hips or lack thereof.)