Tamsen Grace is a published poet, a Ford Model of Courage, an artist and a cancer survivor. She is the author of two poetry books “Skeletons in My Closet" and “Dismantling Cinderella” published by Creative Talents Unleashed. She has been published in numerous anthologies, magazines and online sites.
Tamsen Grace lives in the Midwest with her children. She enjoys creating art, reading, writing, biking and teaching children Martial Arts.
Nature vs Man: A Caterpillar’s Tale
I understand the cost of change, disemboweling your life You say: “throw money at it and make it happen“ You want change to be easy, uncommitted, pop a pill, with a quick, keto cure, counteract indulgence I turn myself inside out, dissolve, initiate my death, to fly You say: “Fly Eastern Airlines. The Wings of Man” You sip euphemisms, like Lattes at Starbucks, regurgitating rhetoric to sanction your inaction I reconstruct myself inside my chrysalis sarcophagus You say: “Drink Red Bull – It Gives You wings!” You read your sixth self-help book “Harnessing The Power of Habit” I set myself free and take flight You’re still telling everyone you know, how things are going to be different
We Will Not Go Gently
Polite people do not become poets
We, the unmannered offer no apologies, for blaspheming love in our soliloquies, scavengers of wisdom, measuring out the world with our metaphors, step by step
with our words, we can wipe out dysfunction and create a new anthology
death will come, someday, for all us poets and our words, but we will not go gently
I’m refusing to drink Starbucks today, my boyfriend calls it a cult, tells me to look around when we’re in the drive thru line, asks me, why do you see mostly women in the cars? I say we women are notorious for wanting what’s bad for us
that could be a billboard of my past
I tell my kids that they must put cocaine in the coffee, that I will drive forty minutes out of my way to get it, but hate to drive twenty minutes to get to the grocery store
Makes me question my own priorities
Or maybe it comes down to indulgence, that part of me that makes me take my stuff out of the cart to get something for my kids, that tells me I always need to come last on the list, maybe Starbucks is my silent revolution, my rebellion, to frivolously waste money on my own satisfaction...