A Heart Made of Tissue Paper

      I am currently working on an original book of poetry titled A Heart Made of Tissue Paper.  This book got its start a couple years back when I put together a few poems I had written to express personal feelings regarding trials that distressed me at the time. Since then, I have added to my developing book and now have a nice collection of poems. I decided early on to divide the book into seven separate chapters, each  bearing the title of an emotion or feeling that human hearts endure in a lifetime, experiences that strongly affect soft hearts. 

     Of course the first chapter covers the passion, warmth, and uncertainties of love. I believe the majority of poems written throughout the ages (no, not all) attempt to convey what it means to love. The opposite sentiment, to loathe, has its own chapter in the book as well because we must experience opposites to understand what we feel.

     Look for A Heart Made of Tissue Paper on Amazon in kindle, paperback, and hardcover formats sometime this summer, 2023. For now, I would like to share a few poems from the book; something to wet your appetite. I hope you enjoy them.

"It seems

my heart is made of tissue paper;

I wish the world would handle it more delicately." 

        - Richelle E. Goodrich

“I am falling in love with you,
but I can’t say a word.

You don’t care for love.
It has bruised you, broken you, burned you.
You call it a curse. Yet, I fear I am captive of this enemy, love.

You warn of its destructive power.
Oh, but it warms me like none other! It engulfs me in caressing flames, and foolishly I crave more. I can’t bear to suffer the cold, so I let you feed the fire unwittingly.

I am falling in love with you.
I am in love with you,
and it’s getting worse.”  - Richelle E. Goodrich

“I want to hear her laugh.

 

To watch sunbeams awaken her visage and shine through her eyes. To see the gray clouds of regret that hang heavy over her head rain away to nothing.

I want to hear her sunny voice dance on the breeze, as light and free as glossy bubbles, floating up…up…up to pop like hiccups. I want to know the type and form of key I must cut to unshackle even a portion of her joy.

If I could pluck the winning feather; if my smile could convince; if I could stroke her vocal chords like harp strings and make each treble note ascend to euphoria. Oh, to hear the giggled melody she would release into a world craving the balm of mirth!
I ache to experience that. I am desperate for it.

I live for the day I hear her laugh.” - Richelle E. Goodrich

“I found a room, both quiet and slow,

a room where the walls are thick.

Where pixie dust is kept in jars,

and paper rockets soar to Mars,

and battles leave no lasting scars

as clocks forget to tick.

I guard this room, both small and bare,

this room in which stories live.

Where Peter Pan and Alice play,

and Sinbad sails at dawn of day,

and wolves cry 'boy' to get their way

when ogres won’t forgive.

With you I’ll share my hiding place,

this room under cloak and spell.

We’ll snuggle up inside a nook,

and read a venturous story book,

that makes us question in a look

what nonsense fairies tell.

In fictive plots and fabled ends,

Our happy-e’er-afters dwell!”

 -Richelle E. Goodrich

“Love by the sweat of thy brow.
Not through whispered words of hollow sound or lofty dreams ne’er substance bound that more than oft do run aground. Nay, love with mighty, blistered hands that turn the soil and carve the land. A bearer of toil and golden band.
Be strong! A founder of the feast!
Protective knight who slays the beast!
For promises and vows aloud are naught but wispy veneer shroud like cobwebs, frail, the airy words and wooing fail. So work, my darling. Toil as proof. Thy loyal heart be drained of youth and yet beat on, incessant sound. Both feet take root within the ground, and service be thy kingly crown.
Love by the sweat of thy brow.” - Richelle E. Goodrich

“Hush, hush.

Hear the earth breathe.

Watch the wildflowers bloom.

Feel the calm of the silent dawn.

Be still.”

-Richelle E. Goodrich

“A thousand times over with you,

I yearned to linger in a perfect moment

and stop the passing of time.

A thousand times over with you,

I caught your tender smile and tucked it

carefully away in my heart for safekeeping.

A thousand times over with you,

I took in your sunny gaze and

hoarded its light for the wintry season.

A thousand times over with you,

I heard your laughter and sat silent

as it vibrated like music in my soul.

A thousand times over with you,

I saw your eyes twinkle like stars,

and I made a wish for forever.

A thousand times over with you,

I noted wisdom in your years,

and I filed away your thoughtful words.

A thousand times over with you,

I felt the warmth of your hand in mine

and squeezed tight, reluctant to let go.

A thousand times over with you,

I pondered how quickly mortality ushers us

from sunrise to sunset, and I dreaded the night.

A thousand times over with you,

I embraced the promise of immortality,

dreaming of a day when perfect moments

linger pleasantly on and on and on

a thousand times over with you.” 

-Richelle E. Goodrich

Copyright 2020 Richelle E. Goodrich