Posts for 2025 (page 6)

Category
Poem

Deer

A doe bearing antlers

With speckled fawn pelt
And wide eyes that stare foward
 
 
The deer turned to me 
And I could see it’s sharp teeth
For the deer was a reflection of me

Registration photo of J. Mo for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Apple Bottom Jeans Are A Misnomer

I am only in 3rd grade

We are playing house at recess
And a boy named Sam says 
I can’t be the mom
Because I have a flat butt
While real moms have big ones 
He pushes me down as he tells me
That I can be the sister 
I accept it because at least
They are letting me play 
And I’m only eight
My butt will grow
 
I make it to middle school
And even though it was sexual assault 
I crave to know what it is to be desired 
I wonder why the boys don’t choose me
To push up against lockers with their groin 
They call it taking cakes
I gladly offer up free apples
But they want to steal peaches 
So when a boy named Gerald 
Finally takes mine 
I am grateful for the opportunity 
And ignore the funny feeling 
 
Flash forward to high school
I’m in sophomore chemistry class
A graduated cylinder in my hand
Contemplating nothing of importance
There is a ruckus near the front
A boy named Justin
My crush 
Announces to the room
That I have a small butt… but it’s still nice
Students giggle as they appraise my jeans
I smile and pretend I don’t care
I write in my journal about it because I do
 
I’m 37 years old
A man I marry mistakenly tells me
He notices a butt that doesn’t belong to me
My soul departs from myself
I leave and watch my body 
Crying alone in my bed
And it’s not about my ass
It’s really never been about my ass
But somehow it is 
And I wonder again why
The way my fat distributes 
Matters so much to me

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Registration photo of Sassie for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Michael’s Daughter

these last days have floated deeply into the past
memories, visceral feelings, longings doubted
the ever-evolving organic pace so fast that makes a young one, once known before
a grown woman that has taken life for its task
and shown the world her courageous core


Registration photo of Bill Verble for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

A Basket Poem

This poem is a basket
to keep my metaphors
contained, so they don’t
spill out onto the floor
roll under the couch
ball up with the dust
and soon start to smell,
an odor wafting 
about the room
like a lingering worry.

This poem is not a basket
that only decorates a shelf.
It’s a useful poem,
but you can see beauty
where beauty
isn’t the point.
A Swiss Army knife
is a beautiful thing
ready for whatever
you may encounter,
it gives you hope.
Hope is useful
and beautiful.

I keep my ideas contained in a journal.
(You’re a poet, you probably do, too.)
The ones with a sticky phrase
or tickling sound,
I’ll make into a poem,
like a basket holding
fresh-picked peaches
smelling sweet,
so full of juice,
just a beautiful picture
sparking memory of
a perfect day
I never really lived.


Registration photo of Greg Friedman for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Interlude

A story unfolds in my ears,
an audiobook of war, remembrance, intrigue—
listening as the moon, waxing gibbous rises.
My evening under indigo blurs
as the memory of someone gone
but as near as a click:
a photo of the gibbous moon sent,
intrudes, blends—
where is the line between story and need?  

Am I right to look for boundaries or let them blur?  

Just a bit more moon,
just a sip of single malt
and the smoke from a cigar
to tease just a hint of recall, return,
full like it was once or could be—
or do I bookmark the playback?
and let our shared fiction be enough.


Registration photo of Linda Meg Frith for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

What I want for you 

Breathing space and freedom
to come and go as you please,
no need for reservations
or permissions, and a sunny day.

Rainbow roses from your youngest son
on a random day in August,
handwritten letters from your grandchildren,
peace of mind, sunbathing
near the Atlantic ocean.

Love for your body,
your many selves,
a walk on the beach
with the memory of Jordan.

Anticipation 
for all the good things
yet to come.

Love, Mom
 
 
 
 
 

Category
Poem

The Painted Door

She stands
    a bastion
        bright and glowing
            against the bitter winter chill

Sheltered deep within the heart
    a warming green of new beginning
        her blossoms painted heart’s blood red

Each paintstroke a murmuration
    of loving prayer and gratitude
        of deep resolve and love of home
            of hope and courage, pure and kind

Amidst the mountain’s broken pieces
    she sings of welcome, peace, and joy

Her song so sweet of bright renewal
    that strangers blossom into friends


Registration photo of Tom Hunley for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

On the Dizain Train

I have the kind of peers who pressure me
to write my poems in forms like this dizain.
It’s time to take a break from therapy.
Feeling too much too fast makes me insane.
I have some memories I can’t explain.
I need to write some songs that I can’t sing.
I’m like a buzzing bee that wants to sting
someone, something. I know that I will die
after my stinger’s gone. Changes nothing.
Like Icarus, I only want to fly.  


Registration photo of Gwyneth Stewart for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Our Last Night In Ireland

In the faded glory hotel that stood
at the entrance to the Monastic City
in Glendalough, the harpist sang
her songs in Gaelic and English,
told stories about how she
could skip any class to practice
in the harp room,

At the end of her performance
she said “Any requests?” I asked
for The Parting Glass. “Sing with me”
she smiled  

It was just the two of us at first–
Oh, all the money that e’er I had
I spent it in good company

By the end, it was all of us–
So  lift to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be with you all!

Afterwards we went out under the stars,
stood in the roofless chapels
of nameless saints, listened
to the wind and the ghosts
of their prayers.


Category
Poem

Can We Get a Dog?

That’s a dachshund puppy if I’ve ever seen one. 
Can we get one? Not right now, but in a bit. 
I promised the cats I wouldn’t do that to them again. 
So ten years give or take, maybe longer. I mean,
it’s not like I’ve never broken a promise before. 
Please? I know I’m allergic but I could do the shots, I would do all the walking, 
unless you wanted to, I mean, you like to walk after all.
(Somewhere my mom is rolling her eyes instinctively).
Yes, but this is different. I’m grown, I’ve kept these little guys and myself 
alive on my own for quite some time. I know what it is to lose a pet
 to a partner. But this is different. It’ll be mine.
Except, we’re supposed to be a team, aren’t we? Anyway, 
a dachshund is basically just a long cat. 
(Somewhere my dad, and his/our/my obese miniature (not so much) dachshund are sitting on the futon, alone together).
This is different. I want to be different.