NaPoWriMo – Day 4 (Dream)

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt is: Write a poem based on an image from a dream. This prompt excited me since I dream often, and have been working on lyrics based on an image from a dream I had! The image was of a man crying strings of rope (I know, weird). Anyway, here is the resulting poem.

My Tears Hang Like String

My tears hang like string from your face,
I tie them up so you can keep my pain.
And you’re sitting there, in your chair, signing SOS in the air
How’d we get here tonight?

You turn left, I turn right, I’m afraid we will never reunite.
It gets harder every time
My only hope is we can undo this end and find a new way to be friends again
Is it okay if I wait for that day?
Or does it make me too afraid?

Oh stranger, stranger can you still love me?
Even if we don’t know who I am?
Oh stranger, stranger will you ever come home?
Or am I to live this life alone?

It’s getting dark, you make a remark, that sounds like a cry
Why’d I? Why’d I? Why’d I?
I have no good reply.
But I want to hide in the past where you can find me, if you ever find yourself  hesitating,
you can always come back to me.

The pressure is getting thick, do I tell the truth to make this stick, or do I open the door
To let in one more lie?
I gotta tie this up tonight.

Why’d I? Why’d I? Why’d I?
Why’d I have to leave?
Why’d I have to believe there was something better for me?
Why’d I have to go?
And leave us all alone?

Oh stranger, stranger can you still love me?
Even if we don’t know who I am?
Oh stranger, stranger will you ever come home?
Or am I to live this life alone?
Or am I to live this life alone?

5634660787_3c24482a86_oPhoto by

NaPoWriMO – Day 3 (Word Bank)

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt is: Write a poem using your new “word bank.” I created a word bank following the prompt instructions but I am only going to post the resulting poem just so this entry doesn’t become too long.

Doubt

I’m burning out,

you’re running cold,

doubts, are overexposed,

in this prison house,

and there’s the constant tickin’

that’s got me thinkin’,

how,

there is no better time than,

now,

to pull the trigger.

But, then I linger,

just long enough,

to not be done,

with us.

hiker-in-rocky-iceland-field_4460x4460

 

 

NaPoWriMo – Day 2 (Specific Place)

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt is: Write a poem about a specific place —  a particular house or store or school or office. With class tonight, my time is super limited so I am building off of a poem I wrote previously!

Arizona

Where wild meets west, the vast sky turns into a real-life painting of mountains burning purples, blues, yellows, reds, and oranges twice a day; a prosaic production. Stars sprinkle the same sky at night, until you crick your neck trying to count them all. On the hottest days, it smells like melting asphalt. But on others, it smells like dusty earth giving rise to life—Javelinas chortling while grazing prickly pear. Rattlesnakes coiling and hissing. Rabbits hopscotching across rocks speckled brown. Lizards darting between low-lying, crackly bushes. Cacti standing guard, arms outstretched, as if offering you a hug.

Here, in the valley, there is space to stretch out. There is fresh air to breathe and time to breathe it. The days are warm and long; the kind of days you want to cozy up to until you fall into a sweet slumber with:

Dreamcatchers hanging
above, snaring bad dreams to
dissolve in the sun.

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NaPoWriMo – Day 1 (Action Metaphor)

I am so excited to participate in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) again. I have been slacking on writing this past year, so hoping this will be the kick-start I need. I enjoyed the experience last time I participated in full back in 2018—check out my highlights reel from that time.

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is: Write a self-portrait poem in which you make a specific action a metaphor for your life – one that typically isn’t done all that often, or only in specific circumstances. 

Love Is Like Carrying An Overloaded Plastic Grocery Bag

Sometimes I feel love is like carrying a plastic grocery bag so overloaded with expectation that it begins to stretch and stretch from the weight until I am holding two thinly stretched pieces of plastic that I hope will stay intact until I can get somewhere safe and set the load down.

But instead,
the bag breaks
and spills out
all the contents
of my heart
for everyone
to see.

girl-2380554

Sometimes

Sometimes I feel like I’m falling,

And there’s no saving me now.

Sometimes I feel like I’m crawling,

Trying to feel my way out.

Sometimes I feel like I’m standing still,

While everyone’s moving so fast.

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning,

And the waves are about to crash.

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NaPoWriMo – Day 12 (Haibun)

Today’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) prompt: We’d like to challenge you to write a haibun that takes in the natural landscape of the place you live. 

I am entirely outside my comfort zone with this NaPoWriMo challenge, but this prompt in particular had me sweating! I had to Google “haibun” and then “haiku” to even understand this prompt. However, I wanted to at least try it so here we go!

Where wild meets west, the vast sky turns into a real-life painting of mountains burning purples, blues, yellows, reds, and oranges twice a day; a prosaic production. Stars sprinkle the same sky at night, until you crick your neck trying to count them all. On the hottest days, it smells like melting asphalt. But on others, it smells like dusty earth giving rise to life—Javelinas chortling while grazing prickly pear. Rattlesnakes coiling and hissing. Rabbits hopscotching across rocks speckled brown. Lizards darting between low-lying, crackly bushes. Cacti standing guard, arms outstretched, as if offering you a hug.

Here, in the valley, there is space to stretch out. There is fresh air to breathe and time to breathe it. The days are warm and long; the kind of days you want to cozy up to until you fall into a sweet slumber with:

Dreamcatchers hanging
above, snaring bad dreams to
dissolve in the sun.

photo-1438979179121-ab4e92cdb51d

NaPoWriMo – Day 1 (Shame)

For the first time ever, I am participating in National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)! I will be responding to the writing prompts posted on the NaPoWriMo site each day during the month of April. The goal is to write 30 poems in 30 days.  Today’s prompt is: Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is based on a secret shame, or a secret pleasure. It could be eating too many cookies, or bad movies, or the time you told your sister she could totally brush her teeth with soap. It’s up to you. Happy writing!

When I was nine years old,
My mother went to the hospital,
unable to remember,
her own name,
or that I was her daughter.

There she battled for her life while
I went on with my life,
never missing a day of school,
where people would smile,
and teachers would ask if I was okay.
Of course I was okay, I thought.
And the house, already big, only seemed bigger,
without the person who made it home.

The waiting, like a quiet room filled with tension.

Finally I got to see her, lying as pale as the sheets that covered her hospital bed,
with her arms outstretched,
I was happy she knew who I was,
but I didn’t hug her,
because I was afraid her brain disease was contagious,
and I didn’t know any better.
My mom returned home weeks later,
but she wasn’t who she was before.
She was using new words,
and forgetting the words,
she used to know so well.
She was different,
and yet no one questioned it.
We just smiled at her, loving her,
not for who she used to be,
or who she would become,
but for the whole process that she was.

And years later, I found myself wishing I had
hugged my mom.

photo-1461722936851-13a79b294a5d

Scraps of Stuff

Scraps of different stuff I found written on post-its, intending to turn into something more. Rewriting the notes here.

I’m livin’ in the shadows,
of your love.
It’s not enough.

—————

Boys like you break hearts like mine.
I’ve given up my life, to lies by boys, who don’t know people aren’t toys.

—————

Maybe there is a limit on love, maybe I’ve used mine up.

—————

I don’t know how to say goodbye,
it always turns into hello when I try.
And you don’t see what I really mean.
I can’t keep hurting like I do, when I see her with you.
It’s like taking bullets to the chest, when I can just be put to rest.
Hope is a stubborn thing, that makes me want to scream.

—————

We’ve poured so much love into this,
and now we’re ruining it with bitterness.

—————

It was so easy to fall in love,
it only got hard when love wasn’t enough.

—————

I don’t want to feel the sun shine. I don’t want to hear the birds sing. I don’t want to see the leaves turn green. All they do, is show the world exists without you.

—————

Words, words, words.
You know how to use them,
and make them hurt.

—————

The sun licks your lips,
shining, glistening,
until they are all I see.

6890935137_20d6cce8f3_o-1400x867Photo: Jonathan Kos-Read   

Anger (Song Lyrics) (In Progress)

Anger rules our home tonight,
both of us tired and dreary-eyed.
Bitter words hanging in the air,
that neither of us deserved to hear.
You’re gearing up for another round,
but I’m not sure I can take it now.

I want to scream leave,
but instead, I beg please,
don’t walk out that door,
because it may surprise you to know,
I still love you,
so please don’t go.

We”ll cry out for peace,
make promises we can’t keep,
waiting for dawn to break,
before our hearts do the same.

I want to scream leave,
but instead, I beg please,
don’t walk out that door,
because it may surprise you to know,
I still love you,
so please don’t go.

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