A birthday gift

Today I honor the anniversary of my youngest sister’s birth with a poem I  drafted exactly one year ago. Happy birthday, dearest Julie, and may you enjoy many happy returns of the day!

For my sister on her birthday

Pulled from bed to witness
that giant leap, I think of you in grainy images
of one small step and boot prints, a watershed
moment on a waterless world

Hours later you arrived
with police escort, crossed the dangerous
void into life, a tiny explorer setting foot
from watery darkness into cold light

Crabby moon baby
that you are, you sidestep
through perilous tides of molting and shape
fantastic structures from the flotsam
left by receding waves

Remember that the combers will always roll you
back to shore no matter where
the current takes you, sure as labor
pains, steady as the moon’s
compulsive ebb and flow

Day twenty-nine poem, LexPoMo 2015

LPM2015-01-1024x768I am sad that this is the final day of Lexington Poetry Month. I posted this poem yesterday, the next-to-last day. There are so many other things I need to do today, but all I want to do is write poetry so I have something to post on this precious last day.

This poem arose from the amazing confluence of recent events and some articles on inspiring but painful transformations in institutions I hold dear. At such times, discomfort may be the one solid thing that anchors us.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

The only constant

How much like dying
this change seems –
the agony of cells’
reshaping, one tissue
expanded, another withered –
the loss! the loss! we weep
for that which is no more and writhe
with joy in the unfamiliar
thing we are becoming.

Day twenty-eight poem, LexPoMo 2015

LPM2015-01-1024x768This is a found poem inspired by words from Rosie Seymour’s final guest blog post for Mslexia, a wonderful U.K. publication for women who write.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

how slowly the world of publishing

Success seems so sudden
when you aren’t a part
of the process. Writers seem to
burst onto the scene
from nowhere and shoot
to great heights but they don’t.

They edge their way
in with this piece and that, testing
the water, slowly
a reputation, showing
they can nail
a brief and hit a deadline.

(found poetry: https://mslexia.co.uk/rosies-last-post/­)

Day twenty-two poem, LexPoMo 2015

LPM2015-01-1024x768This was inspired by a poem posted today as part of the Lexington Poetry Month challenge.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

(with thanks to Rudy Thomas)

another poet* reminds me I am far more
the poetry I have not written

an iceberg, whose mass lies most
unseen and fresh beneath

a sea cold enough to kill
but too dense to freeze

*“The Voice,” Rudy Thomas (http://www.accents-publishing.com/blog/2015/06/22/the-voice/)

Day eight poem, LexPoMo 2015

LPM2015-01-1024x768This poem was inspired by an ICAD Challenge prompt from last week: draw a map. I’d include a picture of the card I created, but I like the poem better.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.

Draw a map of the world

as it appears inside
the back of your skull
lines of sight that project
through your eyes

tattoo continents and oceans
with inky residue of blasted
dreams so you will not
be able to forget

the way home

ICAD 2015 Day 2

To exercise some different parts of my creative brain, I’ve decided to participate in the Index Card A Day (ICAD) challenge, sponsored by Daisy Yellow. Basically, the idea is to make visual art each day using index cards, which are small, inexpensive, and disposable. This takes a lot of pressure off – I think I ran through half a dozen this morning before I did something I liked. Today’s prompt was “carnival.”

ICAD 2015 day2

(watercolor on index card)

Day two poem, Lex Po Mo 2015

LPM2015-01-1024x768I borrowed another prompt from my friend April; today it was “go.” Several meanings of the word came to mind, including that it is the numeral five in Japanese.

Reblogged from the Lexington Poetry Month blog.


five days have I come
down to water’s edge
and bowed, head touching
knees, so that the fifth
day I might begin

the long journey home