NaPoWriMo – Day #30!

April bows out
leaving so prettily
though yesterday
was rainy, cold and gray

birdsong
starts this day,
insects flit and buzz everywhere,
and the pigeons low cooing
continues until dusk

Sun and wind and greening grass,
clean smell of growing things
and freshly turned earth
promise gardens of delight
to come
The flowers of May
the fruits of June
and August’s bounty
drying, dying into autumn

We made it!  Congratulations to everyone who wrote 30 poems in 30 days during the month of April!  Well done, you!

NaPoWriMo – Day #28

What secrets
have we forgotten
that we learned from the trees

What lessons
have the winds taught
that we no longer recall

Have the moon and the seas
stopped speaking to us
or have we just stopped listening

NaPoWriMo – Day #25

4-25-20

To, “First do no harm”
if only politicians had
to make that pledge

Feel free to include your thoughts on the topic in the comments.

NaPoWriMo – Day #23

I walked up the hill
past the old climbing tree
and down the path
into the woods.
There is a deep layer
of dead, brown leaves
from last year,
maybe several years.
They crunch under foot,
like walking through skeletons.
Yet, the buds on the trees
are swelling, greening.
This is not morbid,
it simply is
the way things are,
life and death together.
Perhaps
our insistence
on separating the two,
on fearing and denying death
is what’s abnormal.

NaPoWriMo – Day #17

Somehow my baby
turned thirty
last week

and her big brother
will be thirty-two
next month

Once I thought the
sleepless, pacing nights
would never end

as I carried one
then the other
trying to sing away
nightmares
and colic

But I closed my eyes
and dozed off
and somehow my baby
turned thirty
last week

This is for Hedgewitch’s FF55 Verse Escape

NaPoWriMo – Day #15

If I had
a Gilbert key
that fit the sun and moon
would wind them
every day,
except on the full moon.
Then I would keep the moon lit
and let the sun wind down
for a day or two
because I do so love
the light of the moon

 

NaPoWriMo – Day #12

Sudden Easter storm
buries the garden in snow.
There will be no resurrection today
Perhaps tomorrow
or later in the week.

NaPoWriMo – Day #11

Today I am cleaning closets.
I am the archaeologist
of my own life,
of my family.
I sift through layers and remember.

There is the High School Era
with my kids’ athletic medals
solo and ensemble ribbons
musical programs
home burned CDs
report cards and reports
dried and crumbling prom flowers
and so many pictures
of those brave, innocent faces
with a knowing in their eyes
that wasn’t yet beaten or
swindled out of them
that they would change the world
and the fresh young bodies
barely able to be still
long enough
for the snap of the camera

The Elementary School Era
with exuberant little-kid-bright crayons drawings
rippled watercolor paintings
ribbons for history day projects
and science fair projects
and some of the projects themselves
special stones
random game pieces
lopsided coil pots
and handmade cards
ending with “I LOVE YOU”
And photos that squeeze my heart –
smiles with missing teeth
and now-dead pets
first days of school
birthday parties
sledding and swimming
and sitting with grandma and grandpa

Then there is evidence
of the big extinction
when my mom
and later my dad
died.
There are two
black and white plaid bags
from the funeral parlor
four years apart,
but each filled with cards and notes
a slim, white prayer book
a guest book
a silver cross
and a bill of sale.

And that’s a far as I can dig today.

NaPoWriMo – Day #5

4-5-20

The dead have
their collective hand
on my shoulder

I can feel the pressure
of their words
in the back of my throat

See them gathering
in the shadows behind my eyes

Feel them crowding
my heart

They whisper unkept promises
and lament unfinished lives.
And now time unravels
before them –
an eternity of regret

Another day, another poem.  I’m really a little ray of sunshine lately.  One of these days I’ll post something optimistic again, honest.

NaPoWriMo – Day #4 Out Foxed

Three foxy fates
stand and wait
guarding the pandemic gate

First, Fever Red
straps you in bed
She pounds a beat inside your head

Then Breathless White
steals your might
and seals your labored lungs up tight

Then Deathly Black
knocks you back
takes your soul, leaves your body slack

These fates are ruthless and badass;
unscathed from COVID, none shall pass

This is for NaPoWriMo and The Sunday Muse. Image by Anatasiya Dobrovolskaya.