Category: My Poetry

Cento, My Poetry5 Comments

You lied to me

Charlotte Hamrick

under the stars & the summer was endless. Oh lover, what a word, what a world, this gray waiting. I kept your photo in a bottle of mezcal, touched my eyes until they blistered, the dark liquid waking me up in a stolen cup, white sand in my mouth: nocturnal silt, gritty loam – i(t all) ripened, gladdened, slackened, saddened and it happened the same way nothing happens, all of a sudden. Come back, you said, but to me your lips read, jump. * With thanks to the following poets for their beautiful words in the creation of this Cento, … Continue reading You lied to me

Cento, My Poetry, NaPoWriMo 20233 Comments

Wrapped in Salty Air from The Gulf: A Cento

Charlotte Hamrick

I am eating raw violets. I am curious about the possessing, in the having been possessed — an old woman passes us on the ferry, sniffs us twice, You are in love, I smelled it! we could lift into the air & become part of the indistinguishable wave of laughing gulls above a lover’s hand composes the body it touches – Love, like water! How it gives and gives *** Poet credits in order of appearance: “Tonight As You Pace the Garden” by Alina Stefanescu “Maidens Tower” by Tara Skurtu “Looking for the Beautiful Things” by Joy Priest Love, Like … Continue reading Wrapped in Salty Air from The Gulf: A Cento

My Poetry, NaPoWriMo 20232 Comments

Delicate Peel

Charlotte Hamrick

Delicate Peel Show me your secret 4 0’clock face Too late for sleeping Too early for eggs The time in between a mirror covered in veils Show them your secret 7 0’clock face Letting in sound but strangling words Parsing the needed from the not-so Holding time in folded fists & fog Show yourself your secret midnight face Living with ordinary Looking for sublime Like sugar over an open flame Turn to liquid & melt away Napowrimo Day 12, Prompt word: Clocks Continue reading Delicate Peel

My Poetry, NaPoWriMo 20235 Comments

The Solution

Charlotte Hamrick

The Solution after JaneHirshfield You are working on a solution to cheat mortality, encourage your stem cells to bloom & reseed. Lycium Barbarum, Ginkgo Biloba, CoQ10 will remind cells to swim, to run, to procreate. You roll them around your mouth, dispersing intentions tonguing possibilities, chew on the solution. You rub fish oil in your hair, on your elbows and toes as the cat licks & licks an exfoliating massage, dead skin flakes fall, dusty motes, pink rising like balloons. Yoga clad Barbies wrinkle their noses in Trader Joe’s as you consider which organic vegetables will yield to the constraints … Continue reading The Solution

My Poetry, NaPoWriMo 20235 Comments

Continental Drift

Charlotte Hamrick

We are tectonic plates in a house of misgivings, knocking together then apart, lava flowing dull-eyed & destructive closer to the village. It’s said life passes in the blink of an eye while we become set in our ways. In my heart is a vase of dead flowers crying without tears for the sun, each skintight night strangling it a little more, a little more. * The idea for this came from the prompt word “Continents” in a private NaPiWriMo Facebook group. Right away the idea of tectonic plates as a metaphor for a relationship came to my mind. It’s … Continue reading Continental Drift

My Poetry, NaPoWriMo 2023, Photography1 Comment

Same Old Song

Charlotte Hamrick

Bravado comes in clusters when she indulges, coins dropping & disappearing like tears on a dusty floor while a front man runs roughshod across her heart, growling an age old song of betrayal, clothes dotting a front yard and new locks on the door. I remember the breeze lifting her hair as the ferry fought swells in the river & she gave her fight to its murky arms. It was a regular day until it wasn’t, her smooth smile drowning at the landing, muddy footprints leading to a song. Today I used the word generator again and got these words: … Continue reading Same Old Song

Morning Meditation, My PoetryLeave a comment

Morning Meditation: Skating

Charlotte Hamrick

Outside my bedroom window it’s not quite dawn. Palm tree fronds are black against the lighter black of the birthing day. A lone car occasionally whooshes on the street reminding me of the whoosh of skates on ice. It’s a soothing yet active sound. An early morning sound before the constant growl of engines begins. I imagine these few people going to open their donut shop or to their shift at the hospital. A bird is singing. Why do we always think the bird is happy in its song? Maybe the bird is gathering its strength for a day of … Continue reading Morning Meditation: Skating