Away From Home

Forward, The Only Way to Go

Rusty white with a big blue stripe,

the old pickup, a pick-me-up

in the shape of a flatbed truck.

He drives fast with the music blasting,

windows cranked down because the AC never works,

or maybe just to share his music with the world.

His voice pours out the window to the beat of a drum

as the pounding music rocks and swells

and brings the old radio back to life.

It’s an adrenaline rush, that old white truck,

and the driver inside. Four wheels, one heart,

flying on a song down the old dirt road.

With the blood of a cousin, the heart

of a friend, a protector, a brother, a guardian.

Wings hidden beneath thick skin, or rusty white paint.

The heart of freedom, a crazy heart.

A heart with no direction, a truck with no map.

Windows open, open heart.

Closure

Upon this wall I sit and watch the tide

roll in and out, affection for the sand

as indecisive as your touch. Your hand

grazes mine. Is it true we really tried?

Perhaps I missed it when you tried to hide.

Your touch lingers, and I feel it demand

a part of me that no longer can stand.

Was this love just far too long denied?

But there was something here, and it still is

alive somewhere inside our broken hearts.

This poem is far too sentimental,

And yet I feel somewhere, somehow that this

needs to be said, before we fall apart

and crash into the waves that we feel call.

New Years Eve - Rachel Schneider

Medium:

Prismacolor Pencils and Sharpie on Paper

To The Once Ingénue

The giver of blood and love is fragile

as it beats faint within the fold of your

broken breast. The giant’s grass of the forest

sways gently in the wind, unaware of your

selfish weight crushing the earth below.

You used to dance with grace as light as a breeze

among the blossoms of spring, but now you

have been stripped and knocked down, lying

heavy in the cold dirt of disenchanted

winter. You bury yourself in the decay of your

innocence as the rain of remorse now pours down

your cheeks. The one who did this to you feels no

regret. You let him take the silver trinkets

from your pain-streaked body and he

hung them from the bedpost that he might

admire those trophies of his conquest.

You have given up that blissful ignorance that you

once held so dear. Now you must stand alone and

face the world, for he is not there to lift you.

There is no changing what has been done.

Poison Apple

The church is cold as I perch on my pew.

The heater is broken again, third time

this winter. The preacher has begun his

sermon, but all I hear is the silence of your

absence.

My phone rings. It should turn it off,

especially since it’s playing our song.

I know it’s you. I shouldn’t answer.

I stand and duck out to the lobby.

I know judgmental looks are following me.

Your hesitant hello send heat coursing

through my frozen veins, awakening

my stifled senses. Brother Phillip’s

voice echoes over the loud speaker,

but his words are as distant as God.

All I hear is your heavy breathing.

I had the pleasure of modeling for my favorite photographer and best friend this weekend. She's amazing, and you should check her out!

My favorite model visited this past weekend. I got some of these stellar shots around St. Augustine

Lust Song

Is that love in your eyes, or are you just happy to

see me? Me, naked above you, beneath you,

around you. My bible lies open in the backseat,

Samson and Delilah. My legs clench your waist,

pulling you closer, deeper, further into this

stark truth: there’s no hiding from you now.

Every inch of me bare, my ugly flaws and

rosy lies, sketched across my inner thighs.

Am I good for a game? Love and sex are not

the same. There’s nothing to see here past

the hills and valleys of dimples and curves.

Lone Tree - Rachel Schneider

Medium: 

Calligraphy pens on paper

Open

That brief moment you hold me so tight

your arms tremble and your voice

breaks and for that brief moment I see

into your heart and soul, your very being

and I see how you long for me and you

ache as I ache, ache to pull me closer

to bring you in to make you a part of me of

you of we not two, one being held together by

a silver cord of connection that no one or

two can sever, the pain in your eyes when I

must let go since I am one and you are one and

together we are still two not one but

someday the goodbye will cease and I see

for that moment you long as I long and I

know no doubt because I see you and you

see me and we are as close as the sea to the shore.