2015 Poem A Day, Day Thirty

Prompt for Day Thirty:

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Bury the (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Some possible titles include: “Bury the Hatchet,” “Bury the Body,” “Bury the Past,” “Bury the Hate,” and “Bury the Acorns.”

This is the last day
I have written my poems
Now I get to sleep

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Nine

Prompt for Day Twenty Nine:

For today’s prompt, write a what nobody knows poem. It’s easy to write a poem about what everybody already knows, though it may be difficult to write an interesting poem about such things. Still, use today’s prompt to explore things people may not know–secret stories, locations, and so on.

Little Lies

small

truths hide

in small places,

like beneath a sink

where he slept at night

what no one knows

is that he

did not

sleep.

lies

hide, too,

in the open

where we can see

bites marks on his fingers

but he said he

bit his nails

and we

believed

bigger

lies leapt

in flying fire

like tempers tossed, hot:

it was the rats biting

and so he hid

his tiny hands

from us,

too.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Eight

Prompt for Day Twenty Eight:

Here’s the final “Two for Tuesday” prompt of the month:
1. Write a matter poem. Matter is what things are made of.
2. Write an anti-matter poem. The opposite of a matter poem.

Matter

Wide are the skies

within your eyes.

Endless, the world

in your mind.

Medians and means

and in betweens,

Of mosts and leasts

and obsoletes

You are above and

beyond these things.

Nothing the while

can reconcile

with the honesty

inside your smile

for my Dad

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty:

Prompt for Day Twenty:

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “My (blank), the (blank),” replace the blanks with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “My Dentist, the Torture Expert,” “My Lunch, the Thing I Got Out of the Vending Machine,” “My Father, the Comedian,” or “My Life, the Punchline.”

I am playing catch-up, so this one of the two poems I wrote on Day Twenty One. It wasn't finished on the day, so I'm posting it for Day Twenty, because I couldn't feel that prompt.

This was inspired by a conversation with a friend with whom I'd stayed up way too late.

I Am Not

I am not your princess

I am not your muse

I was not put upon the earth

to aid and comfort you

I am a human being

I have got my plans

They have nothing to do

with your boring, idle hands

I don't care if you are listening

I'm not worried if you care

I'm a woman, goddammit,

Walk beside me if you dare.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Seven

Prompt for Day Twenty Seven:

For today’s prompt, write a looking back poem. Of course, some people just glance over their shoulders, and others stop and turn all the way around. Some look back in time and weigh their successes and failures, evaluate things they could do better. Some claim they never look back. Whatever your stance on looking back, capture it in a poem today.

This is for my parents, who have been married for forty years. I'm trying to reflect how their love has grown and changed over time. I hope I hit somewhere close to the mark.

A Year, A Life

our love, in barefoot splendor,

traipsing through thick viny trails

cut off shorts and halter tops

dandelion born on gales

our love in springtime formals,

reveling in orchid blooms

a rich and gauzy fabric

full of softly fragrant plumes

our love, dressed in winter's clothes,

bundled tight against the cold,

a woolly warmth protects us,

never let the chill take hold

now our love is autumn's cloak

gathered across our shoulders

at campfire's side, side by side,

while life's long ember smolders

2015 Poem a Day, Day Twenty Six

Prompt for Day Twenty Six:

For today’s prompt, take a word or two invented by William Shakespeare, make it the title of your poem, and write your poem. Click here for a link to some words coined by Shakespeare, who was baptized on this date in 1564. If the link doesn’t work, here are a few: advertising, bloodstained, critic, dwindle, eyeball, hobnob, luggage, radiance, and zany. He invented more than 1,700!

I went off prompt today because I was toying with the idea of making a puzzle poem yesterday, and this one came alone. The missing letters make a phrase. My brain was very entertained, and I hope yours is, too. (I put the answer in the tags...)

Missing Persons

I knew

when you d_d_'t look back

we were done

Two years of maybes

_wo months of p_omises

Yo_ wouldn't kiss,

not in public

no_ in the s_adow

of outs_ders you woul_

never see again.

Y_u stood in the security li_e

and I watched and wa_ched

and hoped

but

you never once

looked back

and you grew

smaller

and

s_aller

unt_l

there wa_

nothing

left

to _ee

Yesterda_

is the gh_st

of _s.  

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Five

Prompt for Day Twenty Five:

For today’s prompt, write an across the sea poem. This could be a love letter, an electronic submission through cyber space and time, or a travel poem (by air or sea, though probably not car). Modern travel or back in the days of rugged explorers. Wandering or wondering, your choice. As always, the prompt is just the springboard to your poem; feel free to bend and break.

When I read this prompt, I thought, "Across the sea... acrostic." I chose a phrase and this followed: 

Across the Sea

Summer skies filled with rain

Everyone dashed inside

Only we stood

Under the clouds,

Laughing

To have known you has

Opened my eyes

Spring hills filled with flowers

And I'm missing you, my friends

Never forgotten

Maybe one day you will come

Across the sea

Remember our Soju promise:

Come see me! Come see me!

Over here in Texas

Still welcome, still in my heart.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Four

Prompt for Day Twenty Four:

For today’s prompt, write a moment poem. The moment can be a big moment or small moment; it can be a good moment or horrible moment; it can affect thousands or matter to just one person. Some moments happen in crowded rooms; some happen in the most quiet of spaces. Find yours and write a poem.

The road leading to my Aunt's house was, until very recently, quite rural. We used to live across the street from her in what is still my favorite house ever. Surrounded by pastureland on three sides and a kind of reclusive farmer we call the Donkey Man (he has a donkey) on the fourth, we used to see a lot of deer, roadrunners, foxes, and once, a ring-tailed cat.  

In the last two years, in spite of a report from the TNRCC stating that it's a bad idea to build apartments atop a cave formation, developers constructed a massive student housing complex across the road from Aunt Ava's house.  

I always worry about the little animals. It troubles me that they've been forced into smaller and smaller habitats. Sure, there's parkland nearby with lots of green space, but considering the acres and acres of open land they used to roam, we've left them with scraps. My brain tells me humans have to have some place to live. My heart answers with the truth: there are plenty of abandoned buildings we can refurbish closer to town. We can build up instead of out. We can be smarter and kinder at the same time when it comes to protecting the creatures with whom we share this world. 

Hello, soap box. Where did you come from?

Anyway, as I came home from my run last night, I crossed paths with a fox. There's a family of them in the empty field, and they are beautiful. This poem is for them.

Out-fox

A cutout shape:

ears and tail

you whisked

across the path

Wild and cunning,

this mother fox:

black and silver

soft and sharp

Our road,

once your

open field.

Our powerlines,

once your

stream and trees

Still you prowl,

you hunt,

and slink,

bright eyes

and starlight

And you watch me,

keen, calm, alert

You were here before

You are here now

You'll be here

tomorrow,

when we burn

ourselves out.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty Three

Prompt for Day Twenty Three:

For today’s prompt, write a historic poem. It could be a poem about a landmark event, specific battle, an era in time, or whatever you consider a historic happening.

This one's far from finished, but I like the use of toes and foot. I'll revisit this one next year, perhaps.

History

the mice made homes

in the toes of shoes

at the foot of these hills

Poem A Day, Day Twenty-Two

Prompt for Day Twenty-Two:

For today’s prompt, write a nature poem. For many poets, the first thing that may pop to mind includes birds, trees, waterfalls, rivers, and such. But there’s also human nature, nature vs. nurture, and other things natural, including natural selection and being a “natural” at something. Let your nature take it where it will today.  

This one is a seasonal poem, more than a nature poem, though there is some overlap. I chose haiku because they are traditionally written about nature. I usually write punny haiku, but I almost refrained from that this time. Almost.

Spring

With eyes like orchids,

her gaze sweeps across the fields

pink and gold and blue.

Summer

Rough hands and bare feet

where the ocean meets the sand,

he waves his hello

Autumn

Cinnamon sweetness

caramelized on his tongue

hides the scent of death

Winter

Whisper on her lips

A snowflake or a promise:

I am leaving soon.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Twenty-One

Prompt for Day Twenty-One:

For today’s prompt, we’re dealing with our third “Two for Tuesday” prompt(s):
     1. Write a “what you are” poem, or…
     2. Write a “what you are not” poem.

I'm off prompt today, sort of. This is more of a reflection poem. It's been sitting in the unfinished poem folder for a while, but today when I looked at it, I made a few changes and thought, "It's as ready as it will ever be."

Mirror

A fear:

you will write

about the ways

I have scarred you.

And I have,

it pains to admit.

I have pushed

when I should

have comforted.

I have dismissed

when I should

have listened.

And you will write

about the ways

I have failed you.

All my searching

and running,

all my scattered 

hopes

dropped like 

fragments

of broken

mirror

in your lap.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Nineteen

Prompt for Day Nineteen:

For today’s prompt, write an authority poem. Maybe you are an authority on something or know someone who is (or who thinks he or she is). Maybe you respect authority, or maybe not so much. Maybe you are on the run from the authorities, in which case I can only say good luck, but this blog probably isn’t the best hiding place–especially with so many folks poeming away.

I am a few days behind on the challenge now. This one is super-rough, and I'm not sure it's an authority poem. 

Open Carry

I have a policy

for the kids

in my care:

I take you

with me

in my heart,

in my mind

every day,

every where.

Driving home

from school,

you are in the

backseat,

you control

the music

and the air

and the volume,

and the depth.

At night

when I cook,

I worry:

Do you have

what's good

for you?

Do you have

enough?

When I try

to sleep,

there you are,

chatting,

talking,

laughing,

crying.

And I worry.

Into the odd

hours,

I worry.

This is my

open carry.

This is my

weapon

against

crime

and poverty

and cruelty

and hate.

This is

what I have

to give:

openness,

acceptance,

and the

promise:

I carry you

in my heart,

and I

remember

who you are.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Eighteen

Prompt for Day Eighteen:

For today’s prompt, pick 2 vowels and write a poem using words that only contain one or both of those vowels. For instance, write a poem with words that only have a “u” and “o.” Also, the letter “y” is wild–so the words “my” and “gypsy” are freebies. And I’ll allow text-speak (or maybe I should say “txt spk”).

Please

Please

take

the chance,

make

that last

plan

4 me.

When

all

else

falls

away,

save

a day

4 me.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Seventeen

Prompt for Day Seventeen:

For today’s prompt, write a swing poem. Sure, there are park swings and mood swings; there’s swing music and swing dancing; and there are swingers. Some people swing one way; others swing another. In politics, there are swing votes and swing states. And many people have swung a bat, an ax, and/or a hammer in their lifetimes.

I really have no idea where this came from. I dedicate this to Patty Griffin, who inspires me every day. This is more a bluegrass song than it is a poem, which I suppose is okay. Our family has deep bluegrass roots.

Swing

Not a fighter, but I'll fight

Not a singer, yet I sing

If you back me in a corner

Watch me swing

Watch me swing

Not a poet, but I get down

Not an artist, but I dream

If I find a rope on a riverbank

Watch me swing

Watch me swing

In this life, we've got our bridges

Those are the easy paths to take.

We've got our blue skies

filled up with clouds.

We've got our whole lives

at stake

So if you climb up the mountain

then you might as well scream:

“I am here, and I'm alive

Watch me swing

Watch me swing.”

2015 Poem A Day, Day Sixteen

Prompt for Day Sixteen:

For today’s prompt, write a science poem. Your poem could be about science in a general sense, but you can also latch onto a specific field or story. Maybe write a poem about the scientific method, or juxtapose science against another idea like love, war, or cuisine. Remember: Science is the springboard; which way you jump is up to you.

I played with this one a while. It's a bit simple, but I like Fibonacci sequences, so I like this, too. I hope that you do as well.

Fibonacci

One

Person

Looks up

Into the sky

To see the infinite possibility:

A billion galaxies filled with billions of stars

and imagines all of the breath and all of the life contained within.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Fifteen

Prompt for Day Fifteen:

For today’s prompt, pick an adjective, make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. If you’re feeling stuck on this one, go back through your poems earlier this month and find adjectives you used–if any. Or crack open a dictionary. Or scan other poems for ideas.

This one turned out a little creepier than expected...

Complicit

sometimes there is a shadow

lurking at the door

sometimes it's a heart

beat-beating

in the space beneath

the floor

sometimes there is a spider

tangled up in her own webs

sometimes there is a murderer

buried deep in his own bed

once in a while,

there is a smiling face

peering out

from the mirror glass

and sometimes,

you are the author

of what has come

to pass.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Fourteen

Prompt for Day Fourteen:

Today is our second “Two for Tuesday” prompt(s), and here are your options:
               1. Write an honest poem. Or…
               2. Write a dishonest poem.

How is this for a fine bit of synchronicity? Today's prompt is about honesty, and I opened to the first page of Stephen King's On Writing to find this:

My poem for today is very short. I borrowed the title from the page above.

Liars Prosper

The only part that hurts

Is something of a surprise:

It's knowing you're the only one

who believed any

of your lies.

2015 Poem A Day, Day Thirteen

Going off prompt for this one. It was supposed to be a confession poem, but I had nothing.

Instead, I was playing with haiku for Earth Day's nature poem, and I wrote this one. It's not a nature poem, but I like the idea of Rorschach and kaleidoscopes.

But What About Freud?

A prismatic flash

Turning kaleidoscope's wheel

Rorschach would love this

2015 Poem a Day, Day Twelve

Prompt for Day Twelve:

For today’s prompt, write a damage poem. Since my baby brother is a storm chaser, my mind usually jumps straight to storm damage. However, there’s more than the physical damage created by things like hurricanes, trains, and war planes. There’s also the emotional and psychological damage we inflict, survive, and conceal. The bright side of any damage is that it can be transformed into a poem.

Fire

A child walked

through the charred waste

of a forest after a fire

She felt the heat

still trapped

within the soil,

and she wept for

the blackened roots

of the tindered trees.

Smoke curled

in wending tendrils,

stinging in her throat,

and he cried, “How

can anything

survive

such darkness?”

Yet on the ground

there lay the seeds

sprung forth from

the coils

of their cones

The rain would come

to soothe the soil

and feed the seeds

released

Tender shoots

will grow anew

and from fevered flame,

reborn

All that lay

in devastation

will see the

sun once more.

Paperback Heart, revised

This is the revised poem, Paperback Heart, now even more like a song. It's been stuck in my head all day. If only I could write music...

Let me know what you think in the comments below!

Paperback Heart

How long will I live this

paperback life?

Letters stuck in envelopes

days stuck in strife

I guess I'm always hoping

I'll get carried away

But I'm trapped in this existence

day after day.

How long will I live with this

paperback heart?

All my days the flimsy pages

of someone else's art.

I think I'm always dreaming

of getting out to dance

But I stand against the wall

and I never take the chance

How long will I dream these

paperback schemes?

Choking on the exhaust of

someone else's dreams.

All my notebooks filled but empty

Nothing there but grief and pain

Don't have the guts to burn 'em up

Don't know how to start again.

So how long will I live this

paperback life?

Hiding from the real world,

hoping the fictions aren't all lies

My shelves cluttered with memories

of someone else's strife.

I think I'm always wishing

for my hero to ride in

To save me from this drudgery

Let my fairy tale begin.

But I know that we're just people

And I know that love can die

And I know that I'll keep living

this paperback life