an urban lifestyle + travel blog by liz norment.

Tag: poetry

the seventh haiku.

in haikus, WORDS

apparent, when undone

how quickly our lives become

four walls and one roof.



things proven true this week – moving is a bitch, and haikus provide order among chaos, poetry upon boxes, beauty amidst pain, and inspiration to conquer writers block,… especially on tuesdays. this one written while negotiating my life into cardboard boxes, secured with packaging tape and a plea for gentle handling.


When We Outgrow Our Bones

in Uncategorized, WORDS

i’ve been doing these writing prompts, for the first time. i found them via the very talented jrrogue and kat savage, and here’s what i’ve learned. prompts this good are relentless and insufferable. you cannot read these topics as a writer or a dreamer and not be prompted by the necessity to write. they also make you realize common themes developing among the abstraction. i’ll put a few of my musings here to amuse you. give it a try and then share yours.


lonely layers of lace
intentionally beautiful and porous
let in, let out
I’m exhausted and beautiful. I hope.
dress me up, take me out.
I’m yours, you think, i am, I’m yours
so then what was this for
layers of lace and lonely
with you, and because of you.
so many open spaces.
for someone else to fill.
hope in a helium tank
I thought you’d be so much more
This perceived lightness I’m filled with will simply fade away
I think I was higher for a moment
I thought I was fuller for a moment
I thout you were everything for a moment
And I was ok and you were ok and we were ok, for a moment
and then so quickly it dissipated
And how quickly I welcomed it’s release
hope in a helium tank, I’m not interested, no thanks
I’ll settle into a heavy hopeless state
you know, you’re not such a noble gas.
swimming like a cinder block
I was half full of hope and sinking
dense with longing and a long way from shore.
this fortress I’ve built will become my watery grave
is it swimming or sinking then,
and how deep, how deep, how deep now is it.
how deep will it be, how far will I get
before I’m swimming not through water but through mud
murky and thickening
into dirt
my atmosphere finally sustaining me instead of submerging me
I’ll push through, I’ll float above,
surprisingly and intentionally and just as I suspected.
ashore, just.
swimming like a cinder block and sinking like a feather,
I know my way home.
detain me, voluntarily sweetie
I’ll pretend I don’t know the difference
between feathers or bars
I’ll stay all the same.
this delicate prison I walked in to
holding me within this desire for you
detain me, contain me
sustained here with nothing but false hope
feathered cage,
I see the way out every time I exhale
so I’ll hold my breath
and wait.
lipstick and illusions
is all we are and I fucking dare you to believe it.
this disillusionment is something I’ve granted you, sweetie
because you can’t handle all of me
nor will you have the privilege.
I know what will work for you sweetheart
a swipe of red amid the merlot
a hint of something more that you’ll ignore amid the air of good intentions. amid the simple atmosphere, the volatile indecision, the dim percussion, the noise.
so you’re welcome.
ill be just what you expected and requested and never yours.
lipstick and illusion,
exist there sweetheart
a swipe of red,
a desire, mislead
and as I leave you’ll realize
that with these girls
next time swipe left.


my red converse and you
are the things I like to slip into
on Saturdays
comfortable and numb, or feeling.
you’ll be my favorite thing.
I’ll wear you out, baby
ill tie you up.
I’ll press myself into you
I’ll tiptoe around.
you are my soul, baby
deep and gaining traction I think
just familiar enough and you still feel like
something, then.

from this dream of you.


an original piece inspired by street verse found in williamsburg.

tenderly I crawl from this dream of you.

making slow, deliberate movements.
feeling the unfamiliar air from this non-dreamscape fill my lungs.
inhale. exhale. inhale, exhale. repeat.
I’m slowly coming back alive
but with each step I feel myself losing some of me, some of us, some of what we once were.
a perfect harmony, a delicate existence. a flawless interpretation, a warm embrace.
if I hold my breath and stay still I can feel it come back,
I can catch a glimpse of you,
a whisper on my cheek, a lightness in my heart, a desperate hope pulling at my skin.
until it fades again.
this time, almost completely.
I’m more than empty. I’m deserted. I’m cavernous. I cry out.
I search desperately for my tracks, for a way back.
I try to stay calm, to close my eyes and breathe deep
so my mind might grant me access back into the dreamscape from which I’ve left.
back into that unreality, that bend in time, that transcendent state.
I hope I’ll stumble upon it, I hope I’ll recognize it again.
I hope it will recognize me as I float along, a shadow of my dream self.
leaving the best of me with you,
existing in an intangible embrace,
I’m yours alone, here, waiting.
until day fades to night and into it i become completely enveloped and waiting,
hopefully waiting.

it is.



what is it that leads us, draws us to a place? to a person?
is it the magnetism of the soul, is it the curiosity of the mind, is it the fleeting nature of the heart.
is it a sight unseen that we crave again.
is it words unspoken that gently drip from our tongues.

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