my mermaid soul

my mermaid soul fears the sea,

the depths from which she came,

but the time is now to tumble turn,

to dive, to lose, to gain

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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

a poem for uplifting things

 

Just when I’m about to give up on a creative life,

things from nature remind me of who I am and what I’m here to do…

 

The pale, pert optimism of spring daffodils

that always come up, no matter what, each spring.

 

The rustle of breeze against branch, a shiver of nature

that brings goosebumps when I’m aligned with my truth.

 

And a sudden, surprising deer, stopping in its path to pause and stare:

An emblem of creative spirit come to visit.

 

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 9: write a list of things

if I were a cloud…

If I were a cloud I would love all my shapes,

shifting and wisping and forming with joy.

 

If I loved all my shapes I would welcome all change

and flow in harmony with the sky and the stars.

 

If I welcomed all change I’d feel freer to fly,

to carry aloft my dreams and ideas.

 

If I felt freer to fly I would grow my wings wide

and glide through the arc of a rainbow.

 

 

NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 6: Write a poem that emphasises the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world.

the secret of night blossom…?

What message for me in this fleeting fragment of spring?

Street illuminations shift the softness of blossom

to the moodiness of night.

The pink-white petals cluster in midnight suspense

like candy floss clumps skewered through the dark.

I twizzle my blinds,

the streetlight dazzles my walls with slats

and what do I sense?

A springtime promise, all hopeful and pert,

an epitome of creative grace?

Or a reminder of potential soon to be lost,

a petal carpet of regret to embrace?

 

 

NaPoWrimo2019 Day 2: Resisting closure by ending on a question