Tori Dreamer

Tiny in stature
With dreams larger than her life
Calling gods forward

April 7th
Prompt: Write a Small Poem

The sun beats down just a little too heavy
on this early April day.
Beads of sweat form on my brow,
as I listen to the birds gossiping,
and my nose wonders
how many more miles until it’s here.

The heat and the sun signal
a possible early arrival,
but I’ve been played by them before.
Just when my head and my heart
and my poor bare feet have given in,
another cold wave has blown through
and I’ve been stopped, frozen,
rendered unfeeling.

I breathe in the warm air,
searching for familiar signs.
All I need is the faint scent of lilac,
or possibly hyacinth,
and my olfactory imagination will run wild.

I can still make out the peppermint
on my temples from an earlier headache
and the bergamot on my hands
from morning meditation,
Yet, I am searching for something different.

Coconut
Lime
Sea salt
Jasmine
Lemon verbena
Basil
Mint
Cut grass
Fresh mulch
Suntan lotion

Another deep breath…
and again, my nose wonders
how many more miles until it’s here.

April 6th
Prompt: Write a Poem that Smells

Well… there you are.

Another day, another squirrel.

Didn’t I just warn you yesterday?
Or was that your sister, brother, mother?

What about this clear calm water
called to you…
and others like you?

Could it be that in the dark of night
you decided to go for a swim… 
then realized you didn’t know how?

Or were you thirsty
and stopped for a nice long drink…
only to suffer chlorine poisoning?

Maybe you were out
for your nightly jog on my deck…
and slipped and fell in?

Perhaps you were depressed? 
Papa squirrel always yelling,
lost your job at the nut factory,
girlfriend left you for a hedgehog?

Did your friends and family try to save you?
Or do they not yet know you’re gone?
Should I lay you out in the yard 
to be claimed by your squirrel peeps?
Or dispose of you like the others?

Either way, I’ll be quick.
No need to upset the kids.
Mine… not yours.

April 5th
Prompt: Write a Noun in Location Poem

Dream
I am there
not here
In the sun
not the snow
Laughing
not crying
Writing
not working
Eating
not dieting
Napping
not exercising
On my schedule
not theirs
And surrounded by family, friends, and dogs…
Oh please… let there be dogs.

Reality
I lie awake worrying
Rise early to get started
Always exhausted
Never truly satisfied
Loving yet guarded
Trying… oh god, am I trying
I dream and plan and write the lists
All the lists
I call and email and text
I pray and meditate and breathe
and pet my dog

Fusion
I am there
not here, lying awake worrying
At sunrise, I’m up to get started
Laughing, exhausted from laughing
Satisfied
Eating and loving, no need to be guarded
Napping, then trying again
On my schedule, I dream and plan and write
Surrounded by family, friends, and dogs…
No calling, emailing, texting
I pray and meditate and breathe
and possibly… get another dog…

April 4th
Prompt: Two-for-Tuesday – Write a Dream Poem/Write a Reality Poem/
Write Separately or Together

Three

September 2nd
Labor Day
Long awaited
Missing the party
But no regrets
Numb from the drugs
Elated from the adrenaline
First cry
On my chest
Lost in that face
You are my purpose
My son

January 31st
Dead of winter
Icy roads
Middle of night
Two days early
On your own time
My arms are ready
Bluest of eyes
On my chest
Tuft of blonde hair
You are my purpose
My daughter

October 13th
Crack of dawn
Barely awake
Anticipation is killing
Been eight years
I’m older, wiser
Then there were three
I breathe you in
On my chest
Turned up nose
You are my purpose
My daughter

April 3rd
Prompt: Write a Connection Poem

Boy meets girl
Sees UFO
Loch Ness Monster
Moving Slow

Pod people
Singing soft
Strange old map
Found in the loft

Jog through woods
Hey what’s that sound?
Werewolf prints
Found on the ground

Cheerleader laughs
Time for a shower
She’ll be fine
We’ll check in an hour

In the meantime
Zombie chase
Don’t forget
To bring the mace

Trolls and ninjas
Maybe Freddy
Heart is racing
Enough already

Good for a laugh
Better than porn
Nothing beats B
And a tub of popcorn

April 2nd
Prompt: Write a B-Movie Poem
(Yesterday got away from me. Better late than never.)

Standing in the rain
Hands in pockets
Chewing
Chewing
Chewing

Until at last
She’s able to blow a bubble

Small
Medium
Large
Larger
Larger still

She turns her face to the sky
Blinded by the rain
Bubble growing
Growing
Growing

Feet lift
Bubble shields
Everything’s pink
Through the eyes of the bubbler

Rising
Rising
Rising

Above the rain

April 1, 2023
Prompt: Write a foolish poem

Yes… it’s been a while, I know. Sometimes life throws you curve balls, or drains your energy, or flips you upside down, points, and laughs. Some combination of those things happened to me. So my writing took a backseat of sorts. But I’m recommitting… thanks to the encouragement and support of a few dear friends. I thought a good way to start (maybe an easy way to start) would be to commit to the 2023 Poem a Day Challenge through Writer’s Digest. Maybe you’d like to join me??

Rapidly fired at the head, the soul, the heart

Each hitting its mark

Penetrating deep and deeper until they explode, sending fragments throughout the being

Leaving their target to bleed out… or bleed in… or simply scar over in preparation for the next battle, when it will arrive less whole, but stronger, less fearful, but deeply wounded

After battle upon battle upon battle, though painful still, the words have lost their power

The head and soul and heart come armored

Ready

Not to fight, but to stand, to take back, to forge on, to live out

Tori Burris Inkley

July 2022

I sit here this morning shaking and shaken. Tears flowing uncontrollably…

Call me emotional, overly sensitive, dramatic. Call me a libtard, a snowflake, a Demonrat, or any of those other “clever” names that have been trending since 2015. But while you’re labeling me, you damn well also better be calling me a MOTHER, a GRANDMOTHER, a WOMAN, an EDUCATOR, an ACTIVIST, a FEMINIST, an AMERICAN, and a HUMAN.

The conversation on my drive to drop my teenager at high school today consisted of us discussing an incident yesterday where racial hate graffiti was found on a classroom desk at her school. The third or fourth incident recently that we’ve been made aware of. My daughter doesn’t get it… doesn’t understand how people can be so mean and hateful to others because of skin color. My daughter doesn’t get it… and neither do I.

As we approached the school drop-off line, the traffic was significantly worse than normal… and I immediately noticed why. Uniformed officers in cars and on the sidewalk, monitoring the students as they entered the building. The tears immediately began to flow, as I suddenly stopped talking and became deafeningly quiet. My daughter, my child, my baby sits next to me and notices the shift. She pats my arm and says, “It’ll be okay mom. They’ll find the person who wrote that on the desk.” This amazing human next to me, completely unaware of the massacre in Texas yesterday, thinks I’m still upset about the racial graffiti. My heart won’t let me explain the real reason I’m crying. I suck back the tears as we near the drop-off point. She tells me she’s nervous about walking past the officers, and I assure her they’re just there to keep her safe… all the while praying that there’s nothing to be “kept safe” from. She masks up… her choice to continue to do so… and nervously exits the car. I tell her I love her more than a few times as she gets out… she tells me the same, while rolling her eyes of embarrassment. That’s okay… I’m good at lovingly embarrassing my children in their teen years. The moment she closes the door… I fall apart.

I drive the short distance back home. Tears flowing freely. Knowing that I just left a huge chunk of my heart on the sidewalk of the high school. I return home to begin my work day… payroll, emails, phone calls, the usual insanity. Head and heart aren’t in it. They’re in an art class at the high school, in a playroom in Tennessee, in an apartment in Brooklyn. My children are still here on this earth… and I am overjoyed. And yet I sit here, shaking and shaken. And so damn angry that this has happened again.

No more thoughts and prayers. Only action will change this. Our living, breathing, beautiful, innocent children deserve better…