Eyes closed
Breath still
In the nothingness
You arrive
Not whole
Just a whisper of you
A scent
A hum
A pause
So little
Yet so much.
Tori Burris Inkley
4/6/24
Tell Me How
Tell me how the flowers know to reach for the sky
or the birds know to sing a morning song.
Tell me how the tide knows to roll to the shore
or the day knows to be just so long.
Tell me how my child knows there’s comfort in my arms
or my head knows something has gone wrong.
Tell me how a people learn to judge one another
or not to think and to simply go along.
Science can explain the reach of the flowers,
the tide, and the length of the days.
Psychology perhaps knows the arms of mothers
and all of their comforting ways.
There are theories I’m sure of instinct and thought
and what goes on inside of one’s head.
But the judging and the following may not be understood
until way too many are dead.
And those birds…
Tell me how.
Tori Burris Inkley
4/5/24
For free?
What job would you do for free?
Play with puppies. Sign me up! No better therapy for a tired, disenchanted soul.
I Wonder
Maybe it was or maybe it wasn’t
I was young and stupid or wise beyond my years
Scared and bruised and searching
Took a small step, then a giant leap
Accepted my fate
Kept after the expected
Even now I wonder
Tori Burris Inkley
4/4/24
The Circus (aka The Antics Roadshow)
Let me begin by saying, I have
Zero Interest in People.
I consider myself a bit of an
Art Buff, a
Game Changer, and for a short while,
The Drinker.
[The drinking came following the demise of a very long, very NOT perfect relationship.]
Oh, he was wonderful at first… a
Flower Thrower, a
Dream Boat, and admittedly, a
Well Hung Lover.
Intense was that day we spent at
The Walled Off Hotel.
Me, in my
Valentine’s day mascara.
And him, sporting nothing but the
Scar of Bethlehem.
Wine and laughter flowed
as he labeled me his
Designated Picnic Area,
and spoke of
Cardinal Sin.
And I thought,
this is it,
Love is in the Bin.
Not long after, came his
Follow Your Dreams,
Will Work for Idiots,
Bomb Hugger,
Civilian Drone Strike era.
And though I floated about
like the proverbial
Peace Dove,
Soon came the
Fragile Silence.
And thus began our
Mobile Lovers stage.
I turned inward… painting a
Self Portrait,
which remains
Untitled.
He decided to
Take The Money and Run,
starting a
Think Tank with
Corrupted Oil Jerry.
And now I sit,
under some big top, lost in
The Mild Mild West,
just beyond the sign that reads
Forgive Us Our Trespassing
and to the left of the
Guard with Balloon Dog.
I repeat… I have
Zero Interest in People.
But the posters outside promise a
Parachuting Rat, a
Gorilla in a Pink Mask, a
Flying Balloon Girl, a
Hula Hooping Girl, and a
Girl with a Pierced Ear Drum
(formerly known as a Ballerina with Action Man Parts).
As I sit and wait for yet another circus,
the ringmaster begins,
“After the show, you are to
Exit Through the Gift Shop and
Shop Till You Drop!
Hope you all went to the Bank-sy!”
Tori Burris Inkley
4/3/24
For All to See
Spin me ‘round…
three times to be exact.
I’ll click my heels,
bat my eyes,
pull a rabbit from my hat.
Then I’ll dance…
and sing the stupid song.
I’ll entertain,
make you smile,
and pretend there’s nothing wrong.
Then it’s done…
Right back to what we had.
For all to see,
You and me,
Floating through happy… yet sad.
Tori Burris Inkley
4/2/24
Maybe
If the level of positivity
Can outlast one’s proclivity
To become enmeshed in the desire
To blow smoke and throw fire
When the world’s become colder
As we’re all getting older
And the earth is still turning
While mankind is yearning
For better and best
Less wicked, more blessed
Then maybe,
Just maybe…
There’s hope.
Tori Burris Inkley
4/1/24
Coffee Thoughts
This morning, on my birthday, I drank the exact same coffee I drank on my birthday in 1995. How on earth do I remember? Because it’s Blueberry Cobbler flavored, and my house smells like blueberry cobbler, just like my grandparents’ house did on the morning of February 13, 1995.
I had just given birth to my oldest daughter (my second child) two weeks before, and my 3-year-old son and I were living with my grandparents in North Carolina while my husband toured the country with Les Miserables. Said husband was home for the birth of our newest bundle, and while shopping for groceries, he purchased this amazing coffee. Now I’ve always loved flavored coffee, but something about this smell was heavenly. And it permeated every inch of my grandparents’ house… much to my grandfather’s dismay.
Every morning, until it was gone, I enjoyed a brimming cup while I played with my 3-year-old or nursed my newborn. Until he went back on the road a few weeks after our daughter’s birth, my husband would brew the coffee and make my breakfast, and I would relax and revel in the sounds of our little family, and my grandparents in the background… both nearing 80 years. The coffee and the people and the warmth of that home felt safe. And though my family was about to embark on a new journey in a strange land called “New Jersey”, my heart and my head were at peace… at least for a while. It was 1995 after all… and there was still a bit of young and stupid in me.
Flash forward to this morning, February 13, 2024. My husband recently found that Blueberry Cobbler coffee again. And as I brewed my first cup, the smell wafting through my house… the one we bought 29 years ago in the state I now call home, New Jersey… I smiled and remembered 1995. This morning, my home smells like my grandparents’ home. This morning, my grandparents have been gone from this world for far too long and I miss them. This morning, it’s quiet; no toddler at my feet or newborn at my chest. This morning, it’s snowing like crazy outside and everyone else is asleep. This morning, I’m a mother of three adults, Mimsy of two grandchildren, and wife of almost 36 years. This morning, after my rollercoaster life that only a few truly know, my heart and my head are at peace… at least for a while. It is 2024 after all… and there is now a bit of old and wise in me.
I do love Blueberry Cobbler coffee.
Tori Burris Inkley
2/13/24
Dig Deep
Dig deep, dear soul
Deep into the dark recesses of your mind,
Your heart,
Your gut
Into that place where you land at day’s end
That place where you sit comfortably,
Right or wrong,
With your thoughts
Your choices
Your beliefs
Tell me, dear soul
What color is that place?
Is it as green as new spring grass?
Full of fresh hope for tomorrow
Abundant in growth, soft to the touch, comforting to smell
Is it as yellow as tall summer sunflowers?
Bright and promising in its quest for a better tomorrow
Shockingly brilliant in its positivity
Is it as red as falling autumn leaves?
Beautiful, but aged, having lived a full life
Yet continuing to decorate the landscape
Or is it as white as fresh winter snow?
Lacking color… or it is all of the colors
Clean, quiet, almost invisible
Dig deep, dear soul
and share your color
Tori Burris Inkley
2/13/24
The Same
The same
and the same
and the same
The sun shines
and then the rain
The love bursts
and then the pain
You bleed knowing
it’s just the same
The tide doesn’t turn
The tide’s the tide
You buy the ticket
and take the ride
You pray for more
but know there’s less
You don the heels
and wear the dress
You smile so bright
your face may break
It’s dark inside,
you hide the ache
Dreams tucked away
and growing moss
You take a breath
and mourn the loss
You wash the dish
and sort the clothes
Prepare yourself
‘Cause heaven knows
It’ll be the same
and the same
and the same
Tori Burris Inkley
9/4/23
Tori Dreamer 
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