Category: poetry

Sunny days
Hold the opportunity for
Affection, introspection, redirection
Drawing conclusions and moving
On, to that place
Where you can run and play outside the
Shadows

April 15th
Prompt: Write a Shadow Poem

Do you see them too?
Wormholes in front of you.
They consume hours of time
as you weave and bob and explore,
as you laugh and cry and surf

Where do they come from,
these suckers of time?
Positioning themselves in front of me,
then beckoning me to dive in.
I don’t for a moment believe
I have control over this.
Surely, there’s another
who’s responsible.

Why would I be called to watch
a video of a young child
helping a disabled man
Or an athlete lifting the spirits
of a boy who feels he doesn’t fit in?

Why do I suddenly need to know
the line of the British royal succession
Or the name of a background actress
because I think I know her from television? 

When someone speaks an idiom,
why do I need to research its origin
Or when an old song comes on,
need to know the year of the studio album?

And whose idea was it to connect them all?
The wormholes, I mean.
Just when I reach the end of one,
another appears, as if summoned
to prevent me from putting down the phone
or turning off the computer.
Here comes another hour wasted.

So… back to my original question…
Do you see them too?

April 14th
Prompt: And Now for Something Completely Different

there was so much more for us, ya know
we still had traveling to do
and restaurants to visit
drinks to drink and laughs to laugh

you seemed happy just a few days ago
we were planning and joking
if I’d known, I’d never have let you leave
if I’d known, I’d have stayed by your side

why didn’t you tell me of the pain
the knotted up angst eating away at your soul
I could have done something…
at least I think I could have…

I’m sorry I didn’t help.
Couldn’t help?
I don’t know now
and I can’t ask

you left me here not knowing
you left me here with the memories
you left others too, ya know
but I forgive you, my friend

April 13th
Prompt: Write a Forgive Poem

Whir of wind
Trill of bird
Distant plane
Spoken word

Honking car
Someone talking
Snoring dog
People walking

Coffee perking
Coo of dove
Creaking floorboard
from above

All of this
before sunrise
Ears awake
but not my eyes

April 12th
Prompt: Write a Sound Poem

Every email
Every text
Every phone call
Drains the life blood from my tired, not young body.
Yes, it looks like Tuesday.

April 11th
Prompt: Write a Form Poem and/or an Anti-Form Poem

Too many
Unusual requests this
Early in the day.
Sunrise
Denotes work time
And
Yet, I want to play.

April 11th
Prompt: Write a Form Poem and/or an Anti-Form Poem

Be raised in the South by divorced parents
one struggling, one not… financially that is.
Be the older child of two
and the only girl.
Be a child who carried guilt around
like it would some day earn her a prize;
Certain she was the cause of her parents divorce.
Should’ve been better.
Should’ve been smarter.
Should’ve been prettier.
Should’ve cleaned her room,
gotten better grades, and
not fought with her brother as much.

Be the nerdy high schooler who lived for math class
but secretly wanted to be a cheerleader.
Be the drama geek who loved to dance and act
because it could always take her away.
Be the overachiever, the teacher’s pet,
the good girl through and through.
Gotten better.
Gotten smarter.
(Was still working on the pretty.)
Didn’t clean her room, but
grades shot up, and you guessed it,
still fought with her brother.

Be the drama major, with minors in math and psych;
no one had seen this animal before.
Be the cheerleading captain (yes, she finally made it)
who discovered a taste for Seagram’s and Seven.
Be the girlfriend, the fun one,
the (fairly) good girl through and through.
Could’ve been better.
Should’ve been smarter.
What was “pretty” anyway?
Should’ve found herself,
made different choices, and
visited her grandparents more often.

Be the young wife who moved
3000 miles from home to sunny California.
Be the School Psychologist who
tested kids and dressed “professionally”.
Be the person who discovered new friends,
true friends, her tribe.
Could not have been better.
Acted much smarter.
Finally felt pretty.
Enjoyed sand and sea,
soaked up the sun, and
laughed and played and cried.

Be the young mother of one, then two
who moved from California east to Jersey.
Be the stay-at-home mom, but only briefly
while your husband traveled for work.
Be the fun mom, the good neighbor,
the one with all the energy.
Apparently got better.
Felt much smarter.
Was her own kind of pretty.
Enjoyed squeals of laughter,
playing in the pool, and
being a Mommy.

Be the older mother of three
who has watched two of them move away.
Be the grandmother of two
who fill your heart with joy.
Be the wife of 35 years
who’s settled and comfortable, yet antsy.
Better is relative.
Smarter is relative.
Pretty is relative.
Should’ve taken more pictures,
hugged longer, loved harder, and
not worried so much about the small stuff.

Be uncertain, yet certain.
Be happy, yet sad.
Be searching, yet found.
Be kind.
Be fair.
Be loved and loving.
Be alive…

April 10th
Prompt: Write a How Blank Poem

Futoshiki
Picture Cross
One more cell to show who’s boss

Bridges, Cross Sum
Kakuro
Two more minutes, then we’ll go

Sudoku and
Picture Path
Morning puzzles steeped in math

Oh, I’ve been told
of Crosswords
That won’t do for numbers nerds

Give me digits
Add, divide
Throw in coffee. What a ride!

April 9th
Prompt: Write a Number Poem

In case you missed it
when we spoke,
I miss you more each day.
Yet, as I hear you
park the car,
I consider running away.
The you that I now know,
isn’t the you of long ago.

Midday naps
on my parents’ couch.
Long gone walks through the park.
Skipping class
to go to the fair,
Who knew life wasn’t a lark?
The you that I now know,
isn’t the you of long ago.

Who knows when
I became so blue;
Could’ve been our first row.
The comments couched
in hurtful words,
Remembered blow by blow.
The me that you now hear,
isn’t the me you once held dear.

So all is fair
in love and war.
But where did I go wrong?
I search the sky,
the bluest of blue,
it’s found in a lark’s song.
The me that you now hear,
isn’t the me you once held dear.

The me that you now hear,
is not consumed with utter fear.
The time is almost here
and my escape is growing near.

April 8th
Prompt: Write a Homograph Poem

A dot
A spot
The beginning of rot
Too tiny yet to see

A dart
At the heart
Is only the start
Of the end of you and me

A dash
And a flash
Then a fatal car crash
And we two cease to be

April 7th
Prompt: Write a Small Poem
(Had a little extra time today, so it’s a three-fer Friday.)