Posts for 2025 (page 9)

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

hospice

sip the morning’s coffee hot and black
only from the smallest mug
else the bottom half grow cold

nap and 
call out upon waking
that you can no longer see

wave at the woman 
wearing a red hat
who is really our coat tree 

laugh at the height 
of the ceiling
in our “hotel”

cry when we  
bathe you, dry you,
change your clothes

sleep and
dream of your children
as children

forgive us 
for knowing these hard days 
won’t last for long


Category
Poem

Blessings

Life’s blessings often come unexpected and unannounced.

This morning, my dog is extra affectionate.

I savor the feeling of her in my arms,

the comforting weight of her,

as I scratch her ears

and rub her belly

and tell her how loved and wanted she is.

I do not know when I’ll get to hold her this long again,

pouring my love for her into every touch,

grateful for this spontaneous miracle.


Registration photo of A. G. Vanover for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Where’d I put my bookmark?

Most ev’ry page of me
stained with loss.
Ink-pots knocked over
coffee-mug rings
footnotes in ballpoint
smudged in the margins.
I am not a manuscript
easily read
literally nor figuratively.
My dad left me when I was two
he’s not dead, or a horrible father
but how proficient can you be
in a job that takes consistent, every-day hours
from states away?
His dad left this earth,
and both of us
less than two decades later.
In my thirty one years
I’ve not gone five
without losing a life
without watching a family member die.
In one case
hearing his last breath
flow out in a sigh;
Superman hanging up his cape.
My first dog ran away
she’s dead or she’s stolen
another page in the chapter.
I built friendships
throughout elementary and middle
and lost most of ‘em
when I went cross town
for high school.
The ones in college were the same
I lost most of ‘em
when I moved home.
The ones I made after I lost
when I moved back.
A repeating theme
central to the story of me.
Every new stop
pages left behind
fluttering in the breeze
paper-thin butterfly wings.
Scars in the binding where they were torn out
on some
the writing too faded to read.
I’m not a sob story
a mournful song
a pitiable man.
Most ev’ry page of me
stained with loss.
I learned to be grateful for what I’ve had
and to recognize what I have.

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Registration photo of Amy Le Ann Richardson for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Overcoming Inertia

It rained hard overnight,
which would usually rouse me, but
I slept right through it,

waking to roughed up trees,
disheveled leaves blown around the yard,
and power blinking in and out.

The little ephemeral stream
running along our yard
churning water funneled from the

confluence of hills up in our holler.
The air remains thick and paints
my face with a sheen of slick sweat as

I stand on the porch surveying the sky.
It’s still early, but cicadas already scream.


Category
Poem

An Owl Is To Wisdom

6/1/25
My granddaughter has taken
an interest in helping me write my poem.
We talk about metaphors, avoiding cliches, 
point of view, implied meaning and focus.
This goes on for hours. 
We get stuck on a line and she runs downstairs to ask
her grandmother to name a plant whose flower
lasts only one day.  She comes back with daylily

6/8/25
At my desk 
I find a piece of paper sticking out
of a pile of books.
A glance shows that it’s two poems
my grandaughter’s left me as a surprise,
the second written from the point of view
of her grandfather (me):
1) I wake up in the morning
    to hear a hoot in the rise
    of the sun and
    a scream in the distant
    woods then I think
    as a fox is to stealth
    an owl is to wisdom
2) My sleep is broken
    by a loud squawk
    high in the sky
    followed by the thwack
    of my grandson’s bow and arrow
    my mind comes back
    and I think to myself
    an eagle is to freedom 
    as an arrow is to bravery


Registration photo of Danielle Valenilla ∞ for the LexPoMo 2025 Writing Challenge.
Category
Poem

Specifically

not all,
but most,
and definitely some
more than others


Category
Poem

Ode to an Elm Tree

You lived long, very long,
but the Dutch sickness
got you finally,
and you were felled.
I’m sorry about that.
We had no choice in the matter.
The city made us.
I just want you
to know
that we miss you
very,
very
much.


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

Privilege and Not Knowing

Coworker, 
I drive her most of
the way home.

I’m not the problem.
I could be, potential,
a threat to safety.

How far to go
before someone trusts me?
Doesn’t matter.

Over her shoulder,
extra lap around her home,
keys between knuckles.

I drive away
not knowing and who am I
to tell her different?


Category
Poem

SUNSHOWER

Give me a word for when rain
turns into stained glass. Give me
the word for how it shatters
sunlight, makes summer-filled beads. 


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

It’s raining in Chicago

stuck in this fucking hotel room

14 floors up

with a yellow leather fainting couch

and

the bourbon on the counter’s

lookin’ good