Reading What I Wrote

Reading What I Wrote

Feed back about my work has been mixed lately, those that liked it read it aloud; those who didn't like it didn't. Once my poems were read aloud, those that didn't suddenly did. So, I post this advice: read my poems out loud, you might just hear something you didn't know was there...

Monday, March 28, 2016

Query Letter

To use a voice that is not my own
Is a craft I work to hone
Can I actually accomplish this?

This voice, sarcastic, full of wit
Is it mine, the voice you read?

Or is it a plant's seed?
Planted to bloom and grow
     by me
To become something only you know
    a weed?

Listen to the voice, go where it leads
Follow it when you must
Always trust
A boomerang returns to where it's thrown
The voice you hear, it's not my own

© 2016 Deanna Repose Oaks
All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Silent Prayer

I do not pray on Facebook,
For it does the prayer no greater good.
I pray in my heart
Where all prayers should
Begin and end, with my love so true. 
And while my prayers are hidden, silent:
They still hold power.
My conversation is continuous,
Not just in need's hour.
Always know there is one for you
Whether you need it or not.
Just because you can't see it,
Doesn't mean I forgot.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Hanging On For Dear Life

The tree in my office window holds its dead leaves
Like cherished treasure it doesn't want to put down
Even though the leaves are stagnant, will not grow

The dichotomy of these leaves, so close to
Trees blossoming to life
Playing at a delicate balance, just to show

That life and death are always near
Choose to hold onto the past, dead leaves
Or blossom while letting go

© 2015 Deanna Repose Oaks
All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

Red Truck

The red truck crashed through my dreams (again)
Haunting me still
It isn’t what it seems
I hate how I feel
In my dreams the crash
Is full of death and rot
My life has since changed
My view has not
I was left in the dust
And debris of what was
Reminders of it hurts
Mainly because
Breaking glass and exploding bags
Can’t be repaired
Though in my dreams
They have been dared
Crashing through my life
Again and again over time
I want it to go away
I want it here, I’m….
The red truck changed my life
Against my will
Every once in a while it haunts my dreams

© 2015 Deanna Repose Oaks
All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Spoiler Alert!!

Let the story unfold.
Do not skip forward to reveal.
Knowing what is to come,
Makes the heart numb before it feels.
Let the story tell itself -
From beginning to end.
For there is meaning in the journey,
What the author intends.
Revel in the process
Of living in the moment
(Not in what comes next)
Sometimes now is now
And is purposed to perplex.
Don't give in
To what others know.
It may take the story for a ride
Where it wasn't supposed to go.

© 2014 Deanna Repose Oaks
All Rights Reserved

Monday, October 20, 2014

Sea of Pink

On Thursday night I waded into a sea of pink
Not caring what anyone else would think
Knowing that people in the drink
Do more than wear the color pink
They swim upstream even as all seems lost,
As hopes and dreams are dashed and tossed.
They fight this fight, and will until it is won.
They swim and swim until it is swum.
As friends, family and strangers falter, flail and sometimes drown
The pink tides raise them higher, floating over rocky ground.
As Friday morning came around,
This sea of pink was more profound,
Winding its way from solid stone,
20 long miles until it hits home.
The sea of pink surges with a tide,
Held within every pink shade, in every pink stride.
Saturday morning dawned anew.
This sea of pink took on a deeper hue,
Crashing waves 20 miles further upon the beach.
By nightfall children play within its reach.
The sea of pink closed this night,
Dancing its dance under pale pink light.
Sunday begins as tent city goes down.
The sea of pink starts moving the crowd.
Tales are regaled of what we have done:
20 more miles, the pain, the trouble and fun,
Of the fight we just fought and all it will do,
The sea of pink describes its every hue.
Wading in swimming along with the crowd,
Walking 60 miles over unsure ground,
I feel what I have done; I am so proud.


Where do they come from?
Where do they go?

Hitting like a freight train,
Stinging like a bee,
Floating like a butterfly,
The beauty of the tree.
Sunrise, sunset,
The moments in between.
Paintings, movies,
Sights not yet seen.
Silence, sirens,
The moments within a song.
Doing things right,
Still getting them wrong.
The feelings you have;
The feelings you won't.
The happiness you bring;
The quarrels you don't.
Soft rain proceeding
Thundering dark storms.
Rainbows and sunshine
When the weather turns warm.
Reality, insanity,
A very fine line defines.
Keeping to the rules,
Then coloring outside the lines.
Holding onto hope -
When all is lost.
Winning the game
With a hail Mary toss.

So fleeting, so haunting,
You never can know.....

So take your seeds and plant them all,
Some will grow weeds but others will grow tall.

While the tall ones grow strong with bright brilliant leaves,
Do not discount the power of weeds.
They teach you that you can't always win.
They toughen you up, to take one on the chin.
They teach you not to plant where they grow,
For they take advantage of all that you know.