Trembling | A Poem Written in the Manhattan Summer, 2016


Today I was going through some of my older work and I found a poem that I wrote in the summer of 2016. This poem is one of my favorites; I performed this poem at The Bowery in the lower-east side of Manhattan, and it was received rather well there. This poem epitomized my feelings about catapulting my once shy, awkward self from the hills of WV into the biggest city in the United States for a time, and my feelings about the world and how it operates in general. We are busy, busy people without much of a good reason to be. This poem reveals my frustrations, my hopes, and my thoughts on all that.


– xoxo, Miranda Woody-Martin.



And here was the world

This naive, trembling thing

That set our hearts ablaze

Our hearts a-fury

And it was ours

All ours, the buildings and

The trees above, beneath

Our inheritance aplenty.

But she is not ours— is she?

This naive, trembling thing

That houses our hooves and feet,

Our idea of “home”, complete.

So, roar ocean, roar human,

Roar along with me

To the beat, the tapping feet

Of our tumultuous drumming

To each guitar that’s strumming

This cacophony so sweet—

And as she spins, as we die,

Our mortality is not the matter—

For we are none the wiser.

Come, let’s climb the ladder—

Higher now than what we’ve built,

Above Babel, Empire State,

Climb with me— climb!

Until God opens the Golden Gates

Until we make our great escape

From her, this earth, this matter,

This naive, trembling thing—


Our existence transitory, brief.


The Doe | Poems from Early February, 2018

Lately, I’ve been extremely busy with work (and not to mention Philadelphia’s awesome Super Bowl win). That being said, I have quite a few poems from the past few weeks that I’ve been working on. Today I decided to take some time alone in a coffee shop and catch up on posting these, and sharing them with you all.

Enjoy. – Miranda Martin, xoxo. 

The Doe

By: Miranda Woody-Martin

Unsure footing, like a doe
Hesitant foot prints pressed into snow—
Heartbeat wilder than the rabbit’s;
“Country roads,
Take me home.”

Blinded eyes, like a doe
Light refracts through open windows—
Scent strong as the hound dog’s nose;
“Wild and Wonderful,
West Virginia.”

Feeble frame, like a doe
Rocks rise while green hills roll—
Feet fast as the puma’s;
“Take me home,
To the place I belong.”



By: Miranda Woody-Martin

Tingling bones

Browning skin

Palpable youth—


A spring flows still.



By: Miranda Woody-Martin

Pale clouds

Each the size of teardrops

Pale clouds float about

“The sky is falling!

The sky is falling!”


— I want to fall, too.



Alienated | Poems from January 2018

“Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be. As a friend, as a friend, as a known enemy…” – Nirvana, Come as You Are

Recently I moved to a new place. My husband got a job in Philadelphia, PA and we were forced to forego our entire life that we established back in West Virginia. We left our home, our friends, our current jobs, everything. It was scary, and it continues to be frightening. In lieu of all this change, I wrote a few poems this week that capture (in part) how I’ve felt during this transition. I selected two of the most recent poems I’ve written that reflect my situation and my thoughts the best, and I hope you all enjoy this insight into my transition.


Old Enemy – 1/25/18 

By: Miranda Woody-Martin


Did you come as you are?

As you were?

As I wanted you to be? –

No, I don’t have a gun

And if I did, I’d be the only one

In trouble anyway.


Basking in the glory of your former years;

A childhood made for television

You smirk at the sun for lighting up your life

And don’t understand why you’re unhappy.

You move through the mud, the bog

The bleach of years in line–

Years waste away in assembly lines–

And don’t understand why you’re not like me.


Some sick satisfaction greets your ears—

A smile curling up, branching out,

‘Til it withers with the weeds and


You pull back, and back.

You still don’t understand why you’re not like me.


Did you come as you are?

As you were?

As I wanted you to be? –

No, I don’t have a gun

And if I did, I’d be the only one

In trouble anyway.



Major Tom Revisited – 1/23/18

By: Miranda Woody-Martin


Skyrockets in flight;

Afternoon would be a delight

Full of affirming faith and kinship

If only I were from here.


You may say you’re an alien

But you’re not the only one;

You know they’ll find you

Lacking indecision under the sun


So you run, you run, you run—

Bare feet kiss bare earth


If only you were back there

In your mountain cavern youth;

You scrape your kindred knees

Taste the dirt between your teeth


“If only I were from here!”

Maybe I would be used to these

Planets dripped in glass,

Forests made of concrete.



If you have any questions regarding my poems (my influences, my thought process while writing, my footnotes, etc.) then feel free to connect with me via social media.

– Miranda Martin, xoxo.

Good Morning Miranda

“Don’t take life too seriously; you’ll never make it out alive, anyhow.” 

Welcome to the all-new Good Morning Miranda website! About a year and a half ago I started this project, and somewhere along the line I let it fall to the wayside. Maybe it was time constraints or life’s other distractions (I did get married and graduate college all in the same
year, after all), but either way, I stopped sharing my thoughts here.

However, I’ve decided to relaunch this website with new vigor. After moving from the mountains of West Virginia to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, I have decided that my soul feels free when I am able to write about my life. When I am able to write about the palpable memories of a childhood spent in the hills of my home state, or the long nights spent battling my mental illness, I feel the most free.

Good Morning Miranda


I am given a cathartic release by sharing my experiences will all of my friends that traffic this site, and I feel very fortunate to be able to do so. On this site I will chronicle everything from my travels, my poetry, my thoughts on current events, and even my tips on managing mental illness in your twenties. I don’t plan to sugarcoat anything. I feel the most free when my writing is raw; when I am able to show my readers the ugliest parts of my life and, somehow, still reflect the beauty of living in general.

I cannot wait to see where the relaunch and revamp of this site takes me; I especially cannot wait to get back into the swing of sharing my thoughts and feelings with all of you. Thank you for visiting my site and, as always, enjoy yourselves.