Month: May 2021

At 4 am, You Call Me Into Waking by Tremaine L. Loadholt

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All thanks to Gabriela Marie Milton for publishing my poem, At 4 am, You Call Me Into Waking in MasticadoresUSA. I am honored and I appreciate her taking a liking to the poem enough to host it. Please hop on over to the site to read the poem in its entirety.

Peace and blessings.

Gabriela Marie Milton's avatarMasticadoresUsa // Editor: Barbara Leonhard //

The Dream (Le Rêve) by Pablo Picasso, 1932

At 4 am, You Call Me Into Waking
-Tremaine L. Loadholt

and it isn’t odd, this is
what you’ve done for years–
awaken me from deep sleep . . .
I allow it.
there’s something about your
raspy voice at this hour,
something about the breaths
you take that make me
be still and listen.
I love the world around
what we’ve built.
we have a common bond;
the depths in which we swim
can never drown us.
you say you want to
move in–say it’s finally time
and I find myself scrambling
for excuses to avoid
responding.
my space is mine,
invasion isn’t something
I envisioned, especially from
a lover.
we aren’t supposed to grow
past a certain point–we aren’t
supposed to linger . . .
you’ve always broken the rules.
and here I am, struggling
to pick up jagged pieces…

View original post 165 more words

The Healing Space

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Because I truly love this space. Another shot of my best friend’s plant therapy room. Photo Credit: Tremaine L. Loadholt

Haiku, 5 Parts

In this space, I heal
the light comes into my heart
and love guides my hand

Therapy, it’s called
embracing God’s creations
could hope be right here

Channeling the good
denouncing the bad in time — 
taking it slowly

Every day is new
gifts that are of high prices
lead me to sweet dreams

If these plants could talk
would they want me here with them
I truly hope so

Originally published via Medium.

I Got It

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Musical Selection: The Internet|Under Control
An Experiment
Ary by pLoKi via Pinterest

I tell him things can’t
get any worse and we
agree to tell her — we agree
to let her know we’ve been
watching her, dreaming about
her, and waiting for her
to pick one of us.

Creepy, though it may sound,
she was into it.
He had his reasons.
I had mine. We told her
all of them.

“Fifteen minutes. Just give
me fifteen minutes. That’s
all I need to prove
I’m the better choice.”

I paced in front of her
awaiting her decision.
Surely, she’d see things
my way, but what happened
was just the opposite.

I stood there, still as clay,
afraid to shed the past
in front of a person
I claimed a future with and
nothing I said made
any sense.

She looked on, curious
to know where my antics
were headed; everything
drew itself free from
my grip and every word I
uttered turned into dust.

I watched this woman
we chased sprinkle
herself over the two
of us — potioned and portioned
perfectly and the only
thing I could think of
to say was, 
“I got it.”

This poem came to me while listening to the musical selection on repeat — I had the cover photo saved in my phone for later use; I felt as though it was the perfect image for this piece

Originally published in Prism & Pen via Medium.