Fly Away Home

Flight of the Lady Bug

Suddenly, there are orange lady
bugs everywhere, sprawled low over
the dank floor, kicking against some
dusty window well, lined up close like
BBs along the cold metal seam of a
sash, once even waving her wafer
wings from the bristles of my damp
toothbrush. A mere whisper of warm
weather has drawn them out like
the siren’s song to sailors, and they
sputter into finely doomed webs
of curtain lace, become tangled
up in a cord’s false anchorage, lie
pinned beneath a blind’s bottom
line, all the time smelling a summer
sun’s fire, searching for their children,
thinking they are almost home.

NaPoWriMo #16

I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?

 

Blood Moon Blues

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The lunar eclipse was a major event
studied by wise men and sages of old
while we suburban viewers must circumvent
an untimely cloud layer in the freezing cold.

Unable to glimpse the celestial show
we retreat back to our warm bedrooms dim
to stream the progression by our computer’s glow
letting our dependence on technology win.

NaPoWriMo #15

*Needless to say, I didn’t wake up to see the Blood Moon eclipse this dawn. And even if I did, all I would have observed was the snow falling.

I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?

Gardener’s Lament

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Somewhere between my water spigot and a
neighbor’s neglected fence, I have lost the war.
From all sides, weedy minions encroach on my best
intentions, they’ve infiltrated the deeply dug beds
of my dreams and smothered seeds that failed to
germinate my hope for a better eden. Day after endless
day, I beat back the crabby masses, insulting insects
and gluttonous gophers, haul water to parched leaves
curling out in the field, and nurse the injured nibbled by
deer and stepped on by meter readers. With the help of a
full seed moon, I long to stand vigil against raccoon thievery
and possum vandalism, but reluctantly I must retire until the
bird’s insistent reveille when I will rise to fight once again
despite my stooped back, cracked cuticles and poison ivy.

NaPoWriMo #14

I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?

From Chair To Eternity

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Eternity is a piece of furniture for one person

to sit on, with a back, legs, and sometimes

two arms. Eternity is the person in charge

of a meeting, presides over all proceedings

and occupies the seat of office. Eternity can

be an iron cradle bolted to a sleeper on the

railway, or held aloft after a great triumph. And in

the end, an electric eternity will execute its penalty.

NaPoWriMo #12

*This is a “replacement” poem in response to the Day 12 prompt on the National Poetry Month website, which charged us to “pick a common noun for a physical thing, for example, ‘desk’ or ‘hat’ or ‘bear,’ and then pick one for something intangible, like ‘love’ or ‘memories’ or ‘aspiration.’ Then Google your tangible noun, and find some sentences using it. Now, replace that tangible noun in those sentences with your intangible noun, and use those sentences to create (or inspire) a poem.”

I replaced “chair” with “eternity.” Does it work?

I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?

Death and Pansies, Revisited

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Each year I procure these cheerful little faces of newborn spring, brushed with velvet smudges, the simple sweet smell taking me down a flowered path to my childhood. When very young, I played with scoop and pail in sandy lands of nursery beds, where the earliest seedlings overwintered and hardened off to face a strange new world.

According to family lore, this is where my great-grandfather took his last breath, an immigrant from a war-ravaged empire who began a twilight rebirth in the land of his conquerors. I plant them by the front door to catch that inherited fragrance, to welcome in the newly budded breezes and fresh starts.

They found him in the pansies, already on his way.

NaPoWriMo #11

*I planted this year’s pansies today.

I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?

Collected Lives

Spiritual collection

all of these are gifts: petal rose
quartz from my closest loves, an angel
encased with a daughter’s hug, kokopelli
welcoming this luscious spring, a healing
stone for the heart in green tourmaline,
the quartz crystal that spoke to me in a new
age store, a friend’s petrified wood during her
travels galore, and a smoky quartz cluster
from faraway–for a great-grandfather’s shelf,
resting upon my grandmother’s tray.

NaPoWriMo #10

*The closest I will come to rhyming poetry.

I’m writing a poem every day in April as part of NaPoWriMo’s celebration of National Poetry Month. Won’t you join me in poetry?