Freedom: A Poem | Day 16 of National Poetry Writing Month

Freedom: A Poem I first learned ofGravityWhen I lost gripOf a balloon. The balloon and IBecoming smaller and smallerTo each other. When it greeted the skyI knew there was no return.Only later I realizedAbout letting go of all the thingsI once appreciated fiercely.The cruelness of freedom.

Lenses: A Poem | Day 15 of National Poetry Writing Month

Lenses: A Poem You knew how to pullProudness right outOf my mouth.Tendencies to over think,I gazed deep into the realmsThat blinked in my mindAnd rewarded you withThe inverse of truths. Imagination falteringBetween clear and foggy,I brushed the lenses cleanAs snapshots of bright daysCollaged the surfaces ofMy mind.You knew how to pullProudness right outOf my mouth.

Insects: A Poem | Day 12 of National Poetry Writing Month

Insects: A Poem I want toCatch your wordsLike insects in summer,Stuffing accented pronunciation Deep into my earsSo I'll always rememberThe consonantsAnd vowels you made soundLike poetry.I want toCatch your wordsLike insects in summer,Constructing pictures fromConversationsSo my eyes can seeEach pretty sound you vocalizedAnd each time eyelids kiss,It becomes a gallery.I want toCatch your wordsLike insects … Continue reading Insects: A Poem | Day 12 of National Poetry Writing Month

Wild: A Poem | Day 9 of National Poetry Writing Month

Wild: A Poem The headline splashedAcross local newspapersThat one summerHad my wild blue eyesScanning property linesAnd below the dipOf pine trees."Do you think we'll ever see it?" I wondered"Did you hear that?" my brother askedWild Cougar SightingSummer days warped to nightsAs we waited for eyes like midnightOr as red as mushroom caps toFlash us in … Continue reading Wild: A Poem | Day 9 of National Poetry Writing Month

Hands: A Poem | Day 8 of National Poetry Writing Month

Hands: A Poem He could flip his palmAnd grow a daisy,Enrich my body withNutrientsIn every touch.He built me a greenhouseTo watch me grow.In daylight I could seeBut I leaned into the night carefully.Like a planter turned toward the sunYou made me face the moon,A hand reaching down from the stars,Our own photosynthesis.He could flip his … Continue reading Hands: A Poem | Day 8 of National Poetry Writing Month