As I Sit in SpringSunday, mid-morningand finally it’s not rainingthe wind is silent but for occasional sighsand flutters throughcurtains of greenApril is stretchingand so am I Both of us pushingthe grey awayletting lightwarm our days Prompt via The Wombwell Rainbow Art by Kerfe Roig Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 25
Salt Cellar Knee socks and folded paper a playground at recess a circle, a caucus, a coven magic fingers and bated breath favorite numbers whispered, counted secret messages released in the air fly off to the future, wait for us a circle, a caucus, a coven * Prompt via The Wombwell Rainbow Art by Kerfe Roig – Kerfe’s image reminded me of the paper game, called Salt Cellar, we used to play in middle school. So, it’s finally happened to me – I’ve lost the option to write in Classic Editor. I suppose I’ll have to hunt down a Block … Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 24
Patience Fallow days find me watching Monty Don, his busy hands digging, pulling, planting – and dreams of zucchini (corgettes!),squash, and chili’s dance in my head. Every vegetable and flower that might grow in my hot, humid climate gets a notation in my notebook while I find myself thinking in British-eze. But in my life patience has been a hooded figure on a path far ahead, no matter how I try I can not walk in step with her. This is not good for an aspiring gardener. Daily, I check the bare dirt for first green shoots, then watch obsessively … Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 22
Kiss Redux I need dusk ‘til dawn to turn my world particular I want extra time to talk dirty to be flirty to maybe have a good time To dance my world particular * This wee verse is a found … Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 21
Everything is Temporary My grandmother had a blood red rose that twirled around a post on her front porch. There’s a picture of me standing next to it when my eyes were still fresh and she was in the kitchen cooking tiny butter beans just picked that morning by my grandfather’s hands. Thumbing through the old photo album I pause at that photo, remember how my dad dug up the rose before the old house was sold, replanted it in my parents’ backyard. A few pages later there it is, twirling over my parents’ porch, now only a picture in … Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 20
Cemetery Garden: A Cento In every room of my home, the candles had been pinched dark,(1) my mind spends much of its time reliving finished conversations. (2) I think perhaps an apple is the universe and your body is an orchard full of trees, (3) the bitter taste of half a life. What if you weren’t afraid? (4) Which shadow glittered, which shadow dimmed? I learned not to regret. (5) You strangle on the sweet air, leave little ghosts of scent behind you. You will lean to the earth alone. (6) ***** Sources: (Numbered after the line quoted) (1) Mary … Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 19
Simple Things Give Me Pause When the milk curdles in my coffee I make tea instead. It’s warm amber slips down my throat like mamma tucking in my sleeping body. Pink and blue china flowers fit perfectly in my palm, dance ring-around-the-rosy in my memory of forgotten voices heard only in dreams, blurry faces tied to paper and glue. For now, only cookies are missing in my reminiscent tableau. In my pantry flour, sugar, pecans wait in vain for absent hands. * Prompt via The Wombwell Rainbow Art by Kerfe Roig Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 18
When the moon hits your eye you grab my arm to hold me still, saying I Won’t let you go —- and I turn faster than a deer out-running a bullet, grab your shirt under your chin, thrust my face into yours, say Oh, yeah? Then moonlight fell on us like holy raiments and I don’t know how it’s possible but it happened, we electric like a thunderstorm turned human one minute then bathed in milky luminous lust the next, the anger draining down our bodies soaking floorboards leaving ghostly footprints of rising steam that dissipate in the moonlight as … Continue reading Napowrimo Day 17
Neither Fully Land or Fully Sea Shell-inlaid shrines Rich wetlands gone polluted, paved Sneakers and iPhones walk surreal and dangerous Wave buffeted plastic eat the beach Picture a shuttered ecosystem A catalog of loss Shells growing scarcer the sacred buried the beloved plumbed * This poem is an erasure poem but my printer is acting up so I’m unable to post the actual pages. The source is an online article in Hakai Magazine titled “The Symbolic Seashell” by Krista Langlois, pages 11-13. The title also comes from the text. I highly recommend reading it for a fascinating look at the … Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 15
Froth & Feathers Remember how the mist fell, a veil floating from the sky’s crown, the sea reaching up, up, up – a meeting of waters? You said There is no horizon, no distance, only the here and now. And it was true, the sea and the air mingling, salt and oxygen drifting into our faces as we watched under our tent, the canvas billowing like lungs after a hard run. A deserted beach save for scuttling hermit crabs, frothy waves fingering the shoreline, and mournful echoes of sea birds, ghostly bits of ectoplasm winging by. Time stood still for … Continue reading NaPoWriMo Day 12
