that's mrs. mediocrity to you

in the black lace
morning moment sunrise
hand held branch felled heart meld
water warped meander walk
of worship

…

the dog begs for food and i
warm my hands on a first cup of tea

it’s quiet here, in that pause
just between night and day
and the tulips grow
into all things unspoken
with pursed lips and
petty promises
i’m forever
falling for
because
dawn and now
are not the same thing
but when petals whisper
of hope and holler
who would i be
not
to listen?

.

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.

.

holds everything

.

.

.

.

i remember:

racing barefoot through wet grass at first light

northern lights glowing green above a broken picnic table

three moons on three nights

innocence and wonder (lost and reclaimed)

the sound of my own heart breaking

forgetting to look both ways

holding the feather of your hand in a sea of rough sheets

scattered petals on a bridge leading forward

the owlish sound of love

being here being there being here

remembering

.

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month: Day 29
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and the Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge

Today’s theme is a combo of NaPo’s I remember: and PAD’s write a haphazard poem.

the world is always flat in a photograph and
you draw rings around my heart with saturn fingers

fuchsia only looks gaudy in northern climates
long in the tooth from measured open waiting since

lavish contains every color of unnecessary yet
all i need is a vessel lined with feathers of fortitude

and this paper-torn chance of morning refuge
simper-ripped and recited from the blacklist of night

.

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A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month: Day 15
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo, and the Writer’s Digest Poem a Day Challenge

Today’s theme is a combo of NaPoWriMo’s doubles and PAD’s: use these eight words.

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