5/30 (Inner Stillness)

Hello Dear Readers,

I got seriously sidetracked. But, I said I’m going to see it through and I am. I’m definitely going to go into May, but I’m ok with that. I’ve been trying for years to do this. So, even though I was sidetracked, I’m back on track now. So, without further ado, here’s my 5th poem.

WRITING PROMPT: What do I like that the average person doesn’t?

Inner Stillness

When deep in my mind I’m lost.

Meditation. Speech prohibited.

Talk sullies it.

Silence, my saving grace.

Inner stillness, sitting, with nothing but my thoughts.

Laser focus breaks the monotony, shakes me up.

Ultimately bringing peace.

4/30 (Empathy)

Writing Prompt: Write a poem about empathy.

Empathy

I walk in a room,

I feel you.

Do you feel me?

I feel you, as you hurt.

Your spirit calls mine.

Miles away, I have a knowing- an inkling.

I experience your pain.

What’s wrong?

I feel your heartbeat; it beats fast.

Can you feel mine?

I feel your heartbeat as you worry.

Your anxiety screams!

I know you,

not your representative.

I see you.

Do you see me?

I see you through all the pretense.

You can’t fool me.

I hear you.

Do you hear me?

I hear you as you whisper.

Don’t whisper; speak up.

Don’t be afraid.

Are you nervous!

Tell me why!

I only want the best for you.

I love you.

Do you want what’s best for me?

Do you love me?

I love you for all that you are.

I love you for all that you’re not.

I love you to the moon and back.

Do you love me?

3/30 (Vanishing Purpose)

Writing Prompt: Write a poem about something (you wanted to hold on to) that ended too soon!

Vanishing Purpose

Children move on,

parents don’t; not as quickly.

Some wait for an empty nest;

others dread it;

making the nest 

more comfortable

so they don’t leave!

Some, 

their hearts break

like a double-egg yolk

cracked on the side of the bowl

much like the empty-nested parent’s heart-

like my heart-

who did not think 

this day would come so fast.

Brown eggs, white eggs;

Brown parents, white parents;

color doesn’t matter.

When it’s over, it’s over;

they leave.

No more 2 a.m. feeding;

shaking the bottle to mix stubborn formula.

No more holding them,

as they drink the bottle,

looking lovingly in your eyes

Purpose slowly vanishing!

No more binky!; 

It’s no longer needed.

No more excitement over learning to walk; 

they’re now running.

                          No more tantrums 

as they fall asleep in my arms fighting sleep.

No more footed pajamas;

they’re wearing big boy pajamas now.

No more forehead kisses;

they don’t want them.

No more cleaning their rooms.

No more karate classes and belts,

or all day football  tournaments.

No more 6 a.m. rousings,

as they wake and roll out of bed.

No more asking for 5 more minutes

as they shut off their alarm for the fifty-leventh time.

No more bus stop drop offs.

No more elementary, 

middle school, 

or high school graduations!

No more purpose!

2/30 (Gossamer)

Writing Prompt: Write a poem about something you feel you need to change.

Here’s my poem:

Gossamer

Pulling away old disfigured skin,

unearthing layers, excavating emotions

buried deep; unpeeling fake, 

shedding falsehoods,

embracing lived-in-ness! 

Transmuting pain into power 

and sorrow into strength;

Wearing trauma, making pain look good;

dressing it up like a luxury too expensive to afford.

Glistening, soft, melanated.

Bruised.  

From plum to eggplant,

 dull red to beautiful brown; healing 

Circumstances- 

abrupt, untimely stripping, home, possessions, self-

necessitated this change.

This skin, once familiar, now, unrecognizable, 

Gaslit into submission.

Unsure of who or what I’m supposed to be.

Thickening up this hull.

Before, delicate, gossamer-thin,

raw, wounded, and continuously ripped open,

 like a mess of emotions

too wild to be caged. 

Dry, shriveled skin, soaking up life-giving cocoa butter.

Now, scabbed, scarred, and healing. 

Sloughed off, in need of exfoliation;

ashen, and in need of protection.

Covering this now familiar skin, planted firmly, 

welcoming rootedness in self,

refusing to be counterfeit, insincere;

or anything less than this skin deserves.

Open-Mic-A-Holic, Part 3

Here’s the next pic; also in purple!

Pretty in purple & cream!

April 30/30 (Day 1- Mucilage)

Dear Readers,

Today, April 1st, marks the beginning of 30 poems in 30 days!

Prompt: Write a poem about when you hard a hard time letting go of something!

Mucilage

Hope ran right through my hand like water;

holding on to a wisp of air,

as slippery as mucilage

drip 

      d

           r 

              i

                  p                                   

                            dripping

until it’d run its course.

Tearing nails from my fingers

Trying to hold on, 

to force it;

having no choice but to let go.

I may need to work on this one a little more. But, here it my poem for the day! I’ll write more tomorrow!

Open-Mic-A-Holic, Part 2

Dear Readers,

I’m about to post a series of pics that are either on the mic or in my outfit on the way to the open mic event. Here’s #1:

Pretty in Purple & Plaid