Discoveries in Poetry

Here we are at the end of another National Poetry Writing Month! I can hardly believe that it’s over. There has been so much joy, sadness, pain, and healing shared by so many this month. It has been an honor to have found myself among such a unique community of poets, each with a special voice and interesting stories to tell. Keep writing! Keep reading! Keep inspiring! I know that I hope to…


April dawns,

Poets unite, and begin to write.

A fresh start, a new commitment…

Daily practice yields the fruit

Of fresh poems

Plucked from the Muse’s tree.

Words are baked and blogged

For others to share.

To offer a serving of one’s own heart

To the masses is a loving sacrifice,

Freely given in the hopes of

Something more.

Tab after tab after tab of followed poets

Pop open on the screen.

Words have been birthed, mixed,

Shaken and stirred,

Cried and bled,

For the sheer joy of creation;

To inspire or provoke;

Or perhaps just

To release the words

Into the universe.

Sun sets on April –

The challenge was met,

Attempted but fallen short,

Or simply ignored.

Poems bled into current events

And we cried together,

Mourned together,

Were angered together.

Your poems touched me,

Moved me, inspired me

To want more,

To be more,

To do more.

Poetic marathoners pause,

Take a breath.

Feel the joy

Or the pain

Of having written.

Apply whatever balm you need

To soothe the aching muse…

And write again tomorrow.


Ferme la Porte, or Close the Door

Today’s prompt at the NaPoWriMo website sent me back in time to my high school and college days. Oh, how I wish I had kept up my French! It is true that if you don’t use it, you lose it. I’ve lost a great deal, but sometimes I surprise myself at what I do remember. Once I had the first line, the rest of the poem demanded to be written in French. And it wanted to rhyme. My sincerest apologies to any native speakers who may come across this post. I confess to resorting to the use of Google Translate

Ferme la porte du placard, s’il te plait.

Aide-moi garder les squelettes à l’intérieur.

J’ai peur de ce que d’autres peuvent penser

S’ils savaient la vérité.

Close the closet door please.

Help me keep the skeletons inside.

I am afraid of what others may think

If they knew the truth.

Blitz for Boston

Honestly, I’m still struggling with my own emotions as they relate to the recent events in Boston. I was drawn today to write a blitz poem as a way to begin to process my own feelings. I don’t know if I like this poem or not. I don’t know if you, my reader, will like this poem or not. Sometimes I have to allow myself not to care if I (or you) like what I write. I just have to write. 

Boston magazine's cover for May 2013

Boston magazine’s cover for May 2013

Boston marathon

Boston bombing

Bombing the city

Bombing the avenue

Avenue of dreams

Avenue of escape

Escape to the movies

Escape from reality

Reality TV

Reality bites

Bites the dust

Bites the bullet

Bullet to the head

Bullet proof

Proof of residency

Proof of God

God bless America

God bless the broken road

Road signs

Road trip

Trip down memory lane

Trip of a lifetime

Lifetime is not enough

Lifetime learning

Learning to live

Learning the truth

Truth or consequences

Truth or dare

Dare to dream

Dare to be different

Different strokes

Different world

World peace

World news

News of the weird

News of the day

Day of discovery

Day of the dead

Dead or alive

Dead man down

Down to the river

Down to earth

Earth to the moon

Earth angel

Angel in disguise

Angel of mercy

Mercy and grace

Mercy has a human face



My Best Friend

Today’s poem was inspired by the prompt at the NaPoWriMo website. After filtering through a number of familiar phrases and clichés, I settled on one that just seemed to fit. Enjoy!


As crazy as hell –

All her cups aren’t in the cupboard

And she’s a little left of center.

As crazy as a loon –

She’s one french fry short of a Happy Meal

And one brick shy of a load.

As crazy as a bug –

She’s off her rocker

And she knits with one needle.

As crazy as a bedbug –

Her driveway doesn’t go all the way to the road

And she’s weird as a 3 dollar bill

As crazy as a soup sandwich –

She’s nuttier than a fruitcake

And she’s got bats in the belfry.

As crazy as a vegan T-bone –

She’s a June bug in May.

And she’s not playing with a full deck.

As crazy as a peach orchard boar –

She’s a sandwich short of a picnic

And a beer short of a six pack.

As crazy as they come –

She’s lost her marbles

And has a few screws loose.

As crazy as a shit-house rat –

She fell off’n the tater truck

And she ain’t right in the head

As crazy as me –

She’s that girl in the mirror

And she’s my best friend.


There’s a wilderness in me

Untouched by the human condition

Unexplored by nosy do-gooders

Unseen though it’s right in front of me


There’s a wilderness in me

A tangled jungle

Filled with giant beasts

And microscopic insects


There’s a wilderness in me

A thick and dripping rain forest

Oozing with rich sounds

Of rushing water and calling birds


There’s a wilderness in me

Terrifying and old

Mystifying and bold

Horrifying and cold


There’s a wilderness in me

Only Love Remains


Flames lick the night sky
Negativity burns hot
Blame tries to hold on.

Paper becomes ash
Insecurities destroyed
Fear clings desperately.

Smoke floats heavenward
Guilt and shame no longer breathe
Pain fights for its life.

Tears dry by the fire
Hope rises like a phoenix
Only love remains.

New Arrivals, This Way

To drive my creativity into some yet undiscovered places this month, I picked up a copy of Leap Write In by Karen Benke. When I opened the book today, there it was – right there on the first page just waiting for me – my first “found” poem. I was probably influenced by my visit to the Pulitzer Remix website this morning.


A passport into the wild imagination

Stamped through the portals into defiance

Feel familiar feelings

Become the best voice

Vivid edginess lives

Going around risks.