Tag Archives: passion


8 Mar

A confidence was betrayed
My innermost thoughts were mocked
So I shut up what was left
and the song inside me was lost.

Today, it is over.
I can forgive, I will forget.
And now’s the time
to put things right
my sword is a pen
my enemy, regret.

I have decided that
it’s time to set the captive free,
because far too many years
my beating heart was stifled,
locked up with a rusty key.
With its new found liberty
it marches forward boldly,
across the hills, to the shores
in search of poetry,
and with its renewed beat
this emancipated heart
declares its rebellious creed:

I will harbor fugitive thoughts
and nurture them
until they are ready
to slip into society
and gather comrades
to join in the resistance
against the mundane
and prosaic.

I will hold high the torch
passed down to me
by Viking minstrels,
Irish horse thieves,
and Spanish windmill warriors,
and keep it burning for all
that stumble down this path behind me,
though it may only illuminate
just barely ahead of my feet.

And always,
I will bring passion
to the table, home-brewed
in a glass salt shaker,
and sprinkle it liberally
on everything I feast upon,
and never be afraid
of the long-term effects
it might have on my heart.

Because I am not a gambler,
and I am generally risk-averse,
but when it comes
to matters of the heart-
I have set the captive free
and the risk is worth the purse.


This is my poetic manifesto, in response to Gay’s prompt over at Dverse Meet the Bar: Movements and Manifestos. I highly recommend this exercise, because it is very inspiring and enriching. It’s funny, because I have been thinking about this topic for a while: the whys and wherefores of writing poetry, and the experiences and people that have become my muses over time. Just so happened that Anthony and Gay both consecutively took different angles on this topic. My manifesto isn’t bound to inspire any poetic movements, BUT for me it’s about letting my heart speak again, because a long time ago something happened that made me give up on writing.


5 Jun

It was in a dream
in a low-light room
in a box of matches
from a pocket

It was a rapid friction
a flare of passion
reflected in dark eyes

It was in a dream
I sometimes tell myself
where nothing I touched
could touch me back

It was in my skin
in the evidence of
the scars, the burns,
the scratches

In a crying moment
in a chosen fashion
that a game of arms
struck like matches

in the beating heart
of a dream
pleasure & pain
are the same muscle.



I wrote this poem in 1993. I was taking an Environmental Science class in college and it was so boring, and so long, that I would write poetry to help myself stay awake. It was inspired by a friend, and I was trying to write a poem from his perspective. This poem was originally published in the Garnet & Black Quarterly, 1994. Copyright Lupita Eyde.

Daily Prompt – Sensitive

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