Category Archives: Poetry

daily practice

look uplook outtouch grasssmell airsee waveslaugh hardstay latestart earlybreathe deepwear socksgo barefootfeel warmthknow yourselfaccept yourselfbe weirdfeel emotionsfree yourselffrom thecage youfind yourselfin thedaily practiceof reality

Sturgeon Moon

Two evenings beforethe sturgeon moonI saw this sightthat left me in awe.I headed towardsthe ocean in search ofmaybe seeing a mirrorto make sense of whatI was feeling.Joy floating through my veins –catching up witha dear friend,slowing down aftera busy few months,the significance ofnew possibilities thatcould await meif I so choose.

Eight Snapshots of Change and Uncertainty

IThe trees have dark red, orange, and yellow leaves that cause me to say “awe” as I drive home. My favorite time of year. The crisp in the air makes the hair on my arms to stick up underneath my worn, pink sweater. The sight of these beautiful leaves allow me to ignore the uncertaintyContinue reading “Eight Snapshots of Change and Uncertainty”

Morning Moon

The early summer hoursbring back childhood patterns.Following the morning moon acrossthe sky as I travel from road toroad, I smile and count the craters.In my contentment, I embrace thisstate of peace fully. Right now,it’s just me, my thoughts, my music,and the moon. Real life doesn’t existoutside this existence, not right nowanyway.

Years Without A Word

March 31, 2023 at 10:54 PMI haven’t written a word in a poem from inspiration in years. Life swept me away and off went my creativity. Four walls in large rooms and small rooms held my body still from seeing the beauty I once wrote in my poems. I haven’t worked on poetry. I readContinue reading “Years Without A Word”

Postcards

Your postcards now hangin my living room,I took two of them off the wallin your kitchen,moved them downthe roadwhere I seethe ocean whileI write this poem.The middle onewas by your bedsidewhen you died.I look at themand see allthe memories,all the summersI came hometo see youwhere I now callmy own.I carry your lovein your handwritingwith meContinue reading “Postcards”

Observations From A Quiet Morning

Listening to the birds singI drink my morning coffeeI will not finish.I wrestle my thoughtscalming them down the waya teacher tries to get1st graders attention“Shhhhh, if everyone speaksall at once, no one will be heard.”

On The Beach

People walkin the hazeI watchwith amazetheir abilityto remainstable wherethey cannotsee.They moveas if nothingspectactularis happeningin front ofthem, as ifthey coulddisappearand not beseen again.The body remainsgrounded toearth, the mindadjusts, normalizesthese unstabilizingmoments.