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Maria

@ml.mecham

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Human | Moss Goblin | 📍Juneau, AK
Poems about Alaska, grief, joy, loss
& whatever else I want (All the things)
“Whatever leads to joy” -Marie Howe

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Hello there! Maria here. I recently found a list I don’t remember writing from 2022: “10 Things that Feel Impossible.” Number four? “Writing poetry & music.” Immediately forgetting goals right after I’ve made them is not an uncommon practice for me, but oddly enough, they occasionally come true anyway. The pen is a little bit magic.

Music is still a someday, but poetry came in hot in 2024 to carry me through a dark season (including chronic illness drama. The plot continues to thicken and circle itself). It even managed to outlast my winter blues and usual rotation of hobbies, which is far more unusual.

I discovered that poetry is the language of my nervous system. I find it to be incredibly alive and amazing, but also intimidating. The vulnerability hangovers are real. I regularly choose to coax myself from quiet corners to share and submit my work.

You may also recognize me from my local community in SE Alaska. I came here almost a decade ago hoping it would fix me. Perhaps it did, but not in the way I expected. Moss is medicine. So is standing in the sea. Alaska and my first grey hairs have been unschooling me in the best way. I’m all for it.

I don’t know what the future holds for this page. Social media (and instagram in particular) feels unsteady and weirdly on the precipice of something. I don’t have answers, but I hope there is still room for human-made art/poetry somewhere. I absolutely need it. I hope others do too. If not here, I’ll find a place that does.

You can find more of my work through the links in my bio. Thanks for being here. 🫶🏻

#humanmade #poetry #alaskanwriter #femalepoet #vulnerablepost by @ml.mecham

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4 months ago

October Prompts!

Guidelines:
👻 use the prompt however you like, but please mention which prompt were used.
👻 tag @ml.mecham and @forgotten.dumpling so we can enjoy your work!
👻 optional but we always appreciate it, follow us, like, save and share this post with friends.
👻 last but not least, happy hauntiiiiing🤭

1. the ghost in my coffee cup
2. the kettle screamed my name
3. follow the laughter
4. hungry wolves eat anything
5. feed me truth
6. dirt beneath my fingernails
7. stalked by my cravings
8. weathered words
9. my voice flickering out
10. grief wanders the room
11. swallowed by a void
12. how long can I hold my breath?
13. how to bury a moment
14. an exorcism of lies
15. my spine curved to you
16. grizzly in my chest
17. elemental eyes
18. shivering hope
19. horrifically alive
20. I am seasonal
21. if Spring/Autumn was a life coach
22. rotting skyline
23. sky unhitched
24. melting at the edges
25. a moth’s orbit
26. skipping through portals & fairy circles
27. consulting the voices in my head
28. lost myself in the hoa hoa hoa
29. carve me out like a pumpkin
30. brick and mortar love

absolutely loving co-hosting prompts with the lovely @ml.mecham, pretty sure we're enjoying coming up with these more each time🤭🤍

#octoberprompts #poetryprompts #poetrylovers #writersandpoets #artandpoetry by @ml.mecham

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9 days ago

Who are my poems for? Anyone who reads this and thinks— yessss. More of that. Think: Anne of Green Gables. Maria von Trapp.

Written in @gatherpoets this week after Aracelis Girmay. Highly recommend reading the original. So, so good.

You are Who I Love
after Aracelis Girmay

You, who says good morning to the house plants.
You, who shimmies around slugs on the pavement.

You, who loses your phone to your purse or the bed stand
or the bottom of a lake. Who wants to be lost in the best way.

You, who meets a friend’s weary
with crystal palms, who holds up the walls,
lets her decorates the room with her weather.

You, who swaddles the galaxy in your arms.

You, who goes on, taking on sentences three steps at a time.
Who sings along to the instrumental part of the song.

You, who can’t help but wander, tipping over the bowl
of the world, laughing as it splashes and spills on your clothes.

You, who dares to walk the ridge pole.

You, who leaves sea glass and sparkle and poems all around
because I love you, and the world is ours and who else will love it more?

#anneofgreengables #poetrylove #livingfully #poetry #poemforyou Poem:

You are Who I Love
after Aracelis Girmay

You, who says good morning to the house plants.
You, who shimmies around slugs on the pavement.

You, who loses your phone to your purse or the bed stand
or the bottom of a lake. Who wants to be lost in the best way.

You, who meets a friend’s weary
with crystal palms, who holds up the walls,
lets her decorates the room with her weather.

You, who swaddles the galaxy in your arms.

You, who goes on, taking on sentences three steps at a time.
Who sings along to the instrumental part of the song.

You, who can’t help but wander, tipping over the bowl
of the world, laughing as it splashes and spills on your clothes.

You, who dares to walk the ridge pole.

You, who leaves sea glass and sparkle and poems all around
because I love you, and the world is ours and who else will love it more? by @ml.mecham

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6 hours ago

Erasure Poem in B♭ minor

I will often mind dump, then scan for the starting point of a poem. It occurred to me it would be interesting to try an erasure poem instead. Hot tip—you can turn text white (or match your background) to make it disappear instead of deleting or blocking out. Another new thing to try! Pretty slick! So no, my spacing isn’t all magical. It’s just where the words fell on the page, but I still think the layout fits the poem remarkably well. Thanks for being here and reading. It means the world. 🫶🏼

like this unresolved tornado
the sky might burst with
what went wrong how lines
swirl so hard you slip into the
black hole

it’s tempting to
say I’m different now
ask for understanding
launch into your own pain

I was stupid to believe in matter
tried to see

death
nodded to me

left notes all over the place
hoped to have a conversation

I thought I could
suddenly heal
thought we would
never

miss

kindness ran out
the way
terrible things read between the
lines

I
broke

I can’t

I don’t
I didn’t

I hope
I hope
I

hope I hope
I miss I never
want ever

#erasurepoem #blackoutpoem #poetrylovers #poetryislife Erasure poem with lots of spaces between the words. The poet has deleted words to leave a message behind. The words on the following slides:

like this unresolved tornado
the sky might burst with
what went wrong how lines
swirl so hard you slip into the
black hole

it’s tempting to
say I’m
different
now
ask for understanding launch into your
own pain.
I was stupid to believe in matter
tried to see by @ml.mecham

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5 days ago

A glimpse into what @ml.mecham gave us last year for Nocturnia 🖤

Subs for Brume are closing on Oct 5th. Hurry 🚨

#prosetrics #halloween #litmag #submissionsopen by @ml.mecham

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5 days ago

Getting back in the studio after Knoxie died was… hard. Harder than I ever imagined it would be. We spent so much time together in this room. If you’ve ever bought a print from me, she was right there with me while I printed it. You may even have some dog hair dried up in that ink.

It took me almost a week to try to spend any time in here, and then I would sit at my desk for 10-20 minutes and cry before it became too overwhelming and I had to leave. I did that 4 or 5 times the first day. The next day I could spend almost an hour at a time, getting a few lines of a sketch out through the tears before I had to take a break. But I kept showing up, and the last few days I’ve been here for hours at a time. There are still so many tears, but there’s also progress.

I needed my first design back to be something that was just for me. Something that spoke to my heart. Something that soothed my soul, even the tiniest bit. This line from a poem by my friend @ml.mecham has been bouncing around my head since I read it, on repeat during some of the hardest moments over the last week and a half.

So I drew it out, and a hope-filled broken heart to go with it. And I carved it, through so many tears I had no idea if I had cut somewhere I wasn’t supposed to or not. But it’s the first step towards getting back to a place where I feel like I can breathe again, and I’ll hang it on my wall to remind me of that.

#linocutprint #printmakersofinstagram #printmaking #artist #grief taken in Juneau, Alaska by @ml.mecham

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6 days ago

Whimsy as a survival mechanism. Yes please! For me, the big stuff feels too big when things are heavy. It is the little things that have the power to crack the darkness. Give me moss walks and pretty rocks and 25,000 photos on my phone. What it’s all about. 🌅

Wild hope

I don’t always want to be alive—
so I plant hope wild in my chest.
a moment, a glimpse, a bit of whimsy.
let myself believe in anything but me.
let the goosebumps play their symphony,
sway to the melody, sneak joy into my
back pocket to munch on later. why not
let a snack of sunshine be enough
to hold me? just one more day

#onemoreday #suicidepreventionmonth #poemofig #poetrylover #languagelover Poem: Wild Hope

I don’t always want to be alive—
so I plant hope wild in my chest.
a moment, a glimpse, a bit of whimsy.
let myself believe in anything but me.
let the goosebumps play their symphony,
sway to the melody, sneak joy into my
back pocket to munch on later. why not
let a snack of sunshine be enough
to hold me? just one more day by @ml.mecham

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18 days ago

Written during this week’s @gatherpoets session. I didn’t totally do the assignment, but this is what came up. It felt good to get out regardless. People created some really interesting pieces that pulled from the roots. It made me want to try a few more times. Plus I learned a new word (parataxis) so thank you @theguelphpoet

Also used “I am seasonal” from October prompts with my buddy @forgotten.dumpling

I am seasonal

ache every version of me
not currently breathing

pomegranate seeds
unpierced or drained fresh tang
bitter pit on my tongue

who walks the world wide
chews the spent days
or what may never come

hold up the walls what
breaks plant my tired hands
what I refuse to swallow eyes
to the sky

Art by vasabii on canva

#writingprompts #poetryprompts #poem #poetrylovers✒️ identityshift Poem about identity, grieving lost time, the past, and future paths that are now lost or may never be realized. Grief over setting boundaries, heartbreak. Holding it together when falling apart. Or maybe falling apart and holding it together at the same time.

Watercolor painting of a section of pomegranate with visible seeds in the corner.

I am seasonal

ache every version of me
not currently breathing

pomegranate seeds
unpierced or drained fresh tang
bitter pit on my tongue

who walks the world wide
chews the spent days
or what may never come

hold up the walls what
breaks plant my tired hands
what I refuse to swallow eyes
to the sky by @ml.mecham

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8 days ago

Had tea with a friend today and as we talked I realized a few things. 1. I would not redo this year if you paid me a million dollars. 2. Some pain is unavoidable, even needed. My mind—does not agree. It always tries to find the thing I did wrong, the other choice I should have made, how I could have bent reality to keep me off the coals. But sometimes the house is just going to cave in on you. I have a stack of poetry from this year that has stayed private or was only shared in my smaller writing communities. I might start to share more of it here and there (Btw thank you lovely souls who made safe spaces for me) 3. If I’m honest I want to stay shut down. I want to build a wall so high around myself no one will ever get a peek at me again. But here we are. I don’t want to live small. That is another kind of unliving. As awful as this year has been, at least I have been living it. Can’t feel the fullness of joy if you numb the pain. 🌸🌺

Proximity

I touched too many people all at once
and now I don’t want to
touch anyone.

One drowned. One tried to drown
me. The other two were too busy
making faces at each other to see
that I had gone.

I can’t help but see their hungry eyes.
And mine.

None of us are fair.

#poem #griefandloss #identitycrisis #poetryislife #poetrylover by @ml.mecham

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10 days ago

The lines that stuck with me. Followed me around. Had to share. 🌺✨

I haven’t done a post like this in a while because typos have become a regular occurrence with my neurological condition. I don’t much care if it’s my own poem, but I hate to ruin yours with a typo. Never fear— my teenager helped me proofread this time. So…fingers crossed!

In no particular order, the poets (several have recent or upcoming book releases, so be on the look out!) Be sure to check out their work! I will also share the full poems in my stories over the next 24 hours

@kellygracethomas (Future Tense coming out soon!)
@loisofthehearth
@esb.poems
@jamesapearson (The Wilderness That Bears Your Name)
@quillofmind
@john_roedel_
@kaytpoems (I Hold My Hands Together Without Weeping )
@ukamakaobiora
@rhae.word
@musingsbyanasua
@poetrybyadelle
@aostley.writes
@a.visitor.of.worlds
@maryoliversdrunkcousin (Microdosing Hope March 2027)
@spazzlaska (Ink & Iron coming soon?)
@thesoftword (Midnight Blooms & Mourning Dew)
@rebekahwarrenwrites (Moon Pull recently released!)
@skylerwitherspoon
@byrachelrising (Even Here, There is Light)

photos by human photographers on Canva
#poetry #poetrylines #poetryfeature #poetrylovers #poetrybooks by @ml.mecham

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12 days ago

Madlib-like prompt from @toddedillard was fun to try!

At the ribbon cutting ceremony for my contentment

I forgot to bring my scissors. The crowds mill, confused: my daughter tips a palmful of rosemary
into her chicken soup, my husband leaves
his breath on the mirror, traces my name
with the tip of his left index finger.

At first, I think maybe I can tear it,
but no matter how hard I grip the ribbon,
not a single thread pops. I ask if anyone
has a sickle in their backpacks or purses.
My daughter hands me her ladle.
It is better for slurping than for slicing.
My husband blows me a kiss, but it lands
too softly to be a battle axe.

That’s when I look up and see you
waving at me from the other side.
“What are you waiting for?” you ask.
You pull the ribbon up like the twang
of a guitar string. I walk underneath it
like it’s not even there. I look back.
It’s not even there.

#poetryprompt #madlib #poem #contentment #poetrylover At the ribbon cutting ceremony for my contentment

I forgot to bring my scissors. The crowds mill, confused: my daughter tips a palmful of rosemary
into her chicken soup, my husband leaves
his breath on the mirror, traces my name
with the tip of his left index finger.

At first, I think maybe I can tear it,
but no matter how hard I grip the ribbon,
not a single thread pops. I ask if anyone
has a sickle in their backpacks or purses.
My daughter hands me her ladle.
It is better for slurping than for slicing.
My husband blows me a kiss, but it lands
too softly to be a battle axe.

That’s when I look up and see you
waving at me from the other side.
“What are you waiting for?” you ask.
You pull the ribbon up like the twang
of a guitar string. I walk underneath it
like it’s not even there. I look back.
It’s not even there. by @ml.mecham

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16 days ago

Rejection letter black out poetry! My very favorite. I’ve seen SO many hilarious ones lately. You all crack me up.

I’ve had these letters for a while, but just couldn’t find the words till now. I haven’t submitted much all year— I just wasn’t in the headspace and even considered just being done altogether. But I started feeling that pull again, so I took another crack. Whipping these up gave me the kick in the butt I needed to have another go! So, yay! First submission out in a long while. Proud of myself for doing the scary thing. Felt good to be out there again. Plus, I know what to do with a no. 😉

Two quick celebrations though. Earlier this year I was accepted two places that meant a lot to me. Both had previously declined my work. One hurt like hell so I vowed to never submit there again…But I eventually did. Life went on. Submit. Don’t submit. It’s up to you. Poetry can go many places. But 🥹

#blackoutpoetry #rejection #funnypoems #poetsandwriters #literarymagazine Rejection letter where most of the words have been blacked out. What remains:

Dear Maria, Trust us. You suck. by @ml.mecham

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21 days ago