Today’s the day of the cross.
A chance to separate truth from dross.
‘Cos before you find true meaning,
you have to get yourself lost.
reflections on a cross
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Category Archives: poetry
a sense of swimming
Up my nose, the chlorine sticks its doses:
like a spell, it lulls me and it woos me.
Through my eyes, her swimmers’ arms balletic:
elbows up, calves strong, her heart is centric.
To my ears she swishes through the blueness:
slicing splash, swishing aim, fingers’ trueness.
This poem is for Day 17 of NaPoWriMo, challenging me to write about three of the senses.
Lies about loss
You’ll get over it.
You’ll learn to live with it.
She had a good innings.
It was a blessing in the end.
She was a good mother
You should forgive her.
She didn’t know any better
She couldn’t help but batter
A reflex raised her voice.
She had no choice.
my full moon
my full moon is pure and proud
in defiance of what’s not allowed
it knows its time is short but bold
everyone looks, in awe to behold
the perfect roundness, circle cute
all knowing, feeling, cool, astute
NaPoWriMo Day 14: why me, why this, why now?
Why now is this happening to me?
Why to me is this happening now?
Why is this happening to me, now?
The answers could take a lifetime.
NaPoWriMo Day 13: a kenning
My daughter does splash love.
I call it sweat dew.
The time: it is length day.
She wins: it is gold shine.
NaPoWrimo Day 11: an Anacreontic moment
Crystal Friday shines through glass.
High time for weekend forecast.
Ice clinks a tinkling tipple.
Cooling chance we can sip from.
Don’t let outside take away
a clear-cut sense of style. Ole’.
NaPoWriMo Day 10: a poetic advertisement for writing
Pick up a pen
and fill a page.
Expressive writing
will calm your rage.
Pick up a pen
and say what you feel.
Therapeutic writing
will help you heal.
Pick up a pen
and write from your soul.
Creative writing
will make you whole.
NaPoWriMo Day 9: the song title challenge
Try it upside down, you say.
The way I taste your world, you mean.
Dream a little dream, I say.
I’m really not ever that keen.
Still, you say, you’ll always save a prayer
just in case.
But in these shoes, I reply,
I refuse to lose my grace.
My 200th post
I’d love my 200th post
To be full of love and stuff
But it comes from a place of rage:
someone who’s had enough
of doing the thinking for others
and always bowing her head.
Well, take it back, you ****ers:
we’re not long til we’re dead.
inktuition 