a poem for lippy

 

a mood is lippy on a cup of something crucial

a person’s choice of lip shows social preference

hear your red and you’re redolent with riches

touch your pink and you’re prior to other pinches

taste your lip and you’ll experience that fully

see your beaut and you’ll believe you are lovely

smell your grey and you’re grazing something truthful

listen to shade: you’ll touch your wounded core place

Poem for Day 5 of NaPoWriMo 2020: partly achieved

the rhyme of him and her

 

he loves her when she’s sweet and juice

she is loved when needy and loose

he takes offence when she doesn’t give truce

she feels tears as he shouts his dues

he takes hold when reaching a sluice

she holds cold, fearing an energy noose

he is truth, she is bruise

she is now, he’s set loose

 

NaPoWrimo Day 3 2020: playing with a word bank of rhymes

not-so-splendid isolation

what writer doesn’t crave time alone,

to write, float, feel free to create

in a world of imagined forms

 

yet ‘on your own’ brings up all kinds of stuff:

the thought, the feel, the sense of nothing,

the loneliness of being alone

 

I thought I’d welcome the time on page

that can stretch so far and deep –

yet now it’s self-pressure to perform

 

in my restricted bowl, with views of nought,

I have to reframe the reminder ticks

as a chance to live, to write, and transform

If I were enough…

If I were enough,

I would devour my here-and-now

and not hunger for some perfect future.

 

If I were enough,

I wouldn’t wish for someone’s fish

or scoff at what’s on my plate.

 

If I were enough,

I would ask for a sliceable loaf,

not nibble at leftover crumbs.

 

If I were enough,

I wouldn’t feast outside

to try to fill my empty insides.

 

I would nourish my starving soul

and my heart would be totally full…

 

If I were only enough.

 

 

NaPoWriMo Day 26: Write a poem that uses repetition

to my younger self I gift..

To my younger self I gift

a sense of knowing I have a right to exist,

imperfect and scared as I am

it’s alright to be me.

 

To my younger self I gift

a trust that life gives as well as takes,

that the blows and hurts won’t destroy me,

but will make me who I am.

 

To my younger self I gift

a self-belief that’s humble as it’s confident,

that the words I eventually write

will soothe me and touch others.

 

To my younger self I gift

a pen that scribes my truth.

 

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 7: write a poem of gifts and joy.