Tag Archives: poem

Martyr: A Poem by Collette Kristevski

Remember the first time,
the beginning,
when insistent eyes met mine,
stared deep into my guts and twisted them up inside
with words both wonderful and wounding –
an effort his mouth recognized from a long time ago.
The wounded became the wounder,
and I was willing to be wounded too,
and to wound.
His love created a tension,
alive in my breath,
suspended in mid-air –
a quick inhale
and a slow exhale.
It was a fall from heights I have not been since,
for I no longer desire to heal what I cannot
and then to feign martyrdom.

//Martyr, 5/20/2019
//Collette Kristevski

Hello friends! I know it’s been a while. I’ve had quite the stressful couple of weeks. We found a house and we close on June 7th, so I’ve been dealing with all the inspections, fixes, paperwork, packing, etc. that comes with that. I didn’t realize it was such a process. My pet rabbit is also sick and has been to the vet 3X since last weekend and has a myriad of medications that need to be given, including daily injections. All of that while also wrangling a toddler all day can be quite tiring. But I decided to take a few minutes to finish this poem that’s been sitting unfinished for a few weeks. You know that saying “Hurt people hurt people”? I’ve found that saying to be quite true. I have been the hurt and the hurter, and I’ve let that cycle influence my relationships in the past. This poem is about one particular relationship in which this cycle was clear as day from the beginning, but I chose to ignore my gut about it and enter into it anyway. I thought I was superwoman – that I could heal him and myself and not fall. Two years later and still in the relationship I was more broken leaving it than I was entering it. Thankfully, even in that broken place there was beauty to be found. I am oddly grateful, though I’ll admit that forgiving myself for my bad choices and mistakes in all of those relationships, but especially this particular one, is still difficult.

In defense of the non-believers: A Poem by Collette Kristevski

In defense of the non-believers,/even Thomas had to see and touch to believe,/ and now we call him Saint./Even Peter denied three times,/and Judas Iscariot betrayed the flesh his God would die in./ Even Nietzsche,/ in his insatiable hunger for God,/called himself Antichrist./ Even the heretic,/though mistaken, /seeks after God;/and God,/in His mercy,/can forgive all kinds of mistakes./I myself once danced at the edge of the abyss./A solitudinous dance,/deprived even of God./Where once was heard Heaven’s sweet sighs,/Earths proclamation of something beyond the birds and the trees,/I was crushed by the silence of the cosmos./And right before I could declare that God is dead,/a voice called from the abyss,/or else I know not where./So I dove in and drowned there./I have been the doubter, betrayer and denier./I have been the heretic./And though I’ve never been a saint, it aches now/- the realization that I spent so much of my life/being convinced of my own rightness./And yes, I do believe that I have been an Antichrist./For they are the ones in the churches/with Christ on their lips and judgement in their hearts./And it occurs to me/that the only difference between me and the non-believer/is that I repent every day of my disbelief.

//In defense of the non-believers, 4/24/2019
//Collette Kristevski

*Deep breath* I am SUPER hesitant to share this one. This was originally 2 seperate incomplete poems that were just not working, and then I saw the #amykaypoemaday “In defense of…” prompt and somehow this happened. I may identify as a Christian, but I am no stranger to disbelief. Thankfully, it’s not just about whether you “believe” in the biblical God or not. I don’t even know what people mean when they say that they “believe.” The concept of belief or faith has been so watered down that it almost means, at best something one does blindly in suspension of disbelief, or at worse something one does out of ignorance or stupidity. It’s a lot more complicated than that. And listen, I know that people who don’t “believe” don’t need me to defend them. All I’m saying in this piece is that I get it. I don’t always “believe” either. Anyway, I’m curious what people think about this piece, so please leave your thoughts in the comments.

A Tenth of Me: A Prose by Collette Kristevski

At first I’ll only reveal a tenth of me/and you’ll believe that I am weak/because I appear so quiet, sensitive, sweet./But I am strong when I need to be/and all of those internal brawls with myself have made my spirit bloody and my soul darn gritty./I have often been described as cute, not pretty./I can assure you that I lived so much of my life feeling plain/that I have learned to harness some complex powers,/like thinking that blooms with gorgeous flowers./But I have grown accustomed to this since I don’t want to be noticed, I want to be seen./And reality is rarely inspiring to me/so when it demands, I flee/through the back door of my mind’s garden./There are flowers and a blank canvas there, beckoning me./I’ll paint you a portrait of my fantasy./I can tell you surely that you will not be in it if you cannot compete with the thoughts that bloom brilliantly there/in my left of center brain./If you cannot undress my weirdness/and yet remain./And I have faith in God, but I also have doubt./Sometimes, the only spirituality I can summon is to inhale the word I and exhale the word believe/right before I drift off to sleep/and dream the dreams only thought-gardeners can dream./And I like to turn the volume up on the feelings others don’t want to meet./Longing and nostaglia are comfortable to me./So if you want to know what self-deprecation looks like,/why melancholy feels deep and happiness feels weak/just ask me./I drift in despondency like it’s a bottomless sea./But all of this is still only a tenth of me.

//A Tenth of Me, 4/22/2019
//Collette Kristevski

Comfortable Love: A Blackout Poem by Collette Kristevski

Heartbreaking romance
has passed.
Love happened,
and I belong
in my life.

//Comfortable Love, 4/16/2019
//Collette Kristevski

Prior to meeting my husband, a common denominator in every romantic relationship or interest that I had was a consistent feeling of anxiety about one or more aspects of the relationship. I tell my husband all the time that one of the reasons I knew I was going to marry him was the complete absence of anxiety. From the beginning up to now, instead of anxiety, there has been a feeling of comfort and security. When I made this blackout poem, it reminded me of that.

A Panegyric: A Poem by Collette Kristevski

We love,
like free verse:
the pen.
the afflatus.
Our phrases,
the meter.
the rhyme.
flutter –
an onomatopoeia.
our syntax.
All my best personifications,
swallowed by my hands
in your hands.
My best similes,
like a four-letter word,
My best metaphors,
rose-colored glasses –
We speak
always in alliteration alone.
We sing
for aeons of waiting.
We sigh
in archaisms,
and I am fain to breathe them in.
Your words,
to lonely ears.
I repeat you after three lines,
like three breaths.
Inhale –
two syllables.
Your voice,
a stanza;
a refrain.
like poetry.

//A Panegyric, 6/6/2014
//Collette Kristevski

Implosion: A Poem by Collette Kristevski

Your mouth was filled with everything,
and you chose to fill mine
with poison
and void.

Your tongue was swollen with knowledge,
but you only taught me
that knowledge also
swells the head.

Your words could expand a universe,
but instead you collided with mine –

//Implosion, 4/12/2019
//Collette Kristevski

Disruption: A Poem by Collette Kristevski

and considerations,
burdening my solitude.

Heaviness of obligation,
pressing in,
threatened by my quietude.

Enter, the uninvited
white noise
of responsibility.

Is this what life is?
To war with time, with my own mind
and with God?

//Disruption, 4/8/2019
//Collette Kristevski

A Prayer: A Poem by Collette Kristevski

Let what lies on your tongue
be a key to dimensions not known by devils.
Let your breath be Spirit
and your mouth, a portal to the Heavens.
Let your saliva be nectar
and your words never sting.
May your inhaling be grace
and your exhaling not be a sigh.
May your life be a prayer
and your passing be the amen.

//A Prayer, 4/8/2019
//Collette Kristevski