Monthly Archives: April 2018

Florescence #8

spring is in flux, bitter
frost nip, songbird chitter,
shadow perched, a-twitter, shivering

~kat

Florescence #8 for Jane Dougherty, who created this lovely new poetry form.


Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 8 April 2018

A very busy week of writing makes for a very busy ReVerse. Competing streams of thought that, at first glance, seems to make no sense at all. But they are my words, for better or for worst. Because of that, I’m not particularly bothered by the randomness of some of the lines. I see them as an interruption, which is so like life, isn’t it? One minute you’re coasting along, on time, on track, settled on the course and destination. And the next? All hell breaks loose, and you find yourself on a detour through the unfamiliar. Meanwhile, your GPS has a nervous breakdown trying to get you back on your way, as you careen further from the most direct route; sending you in circles around a now forbidden path. (True story…)

I’ve learned something about detours, having been forced to take them every now and again. Sometimes they send you to a place that opens your eyes to possibilities you might never have considered before. At the very least, detours are an unplanned inconvenience. But given the chance they can also be revelatory. When you approach them with an attitude of openness, detours can be the subtle shifts that reconnect you to yourself, rescuing you from the trenches that are burying you. Some detours can change you, and do.

Have a great week, then. I’m reminded of a favorite quote: “I never worry when I get lost…I just change where I want to go.”

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 8 April 2018

hint of spice on the breeze, birds in tryst
a cup of tea, a purring cat,
amidst frost’s icy sting, reverie
savor every sweet bite / eat the last cookie
just pressing your luck
Don’t ask!
white, wispy flecks blow
that’s not the word you think you heard…
vagabonds in dapper hues
early signs looked promising
settling, like the dust collecting
bent from a blust’ry breeze
chiseled legends in stone
as I watch them, I sigh from below
You remind me of someone I would very much like to know…
if you need to ask…
crazy…like a fox
don’t stir
dust, pollen, budding trees,
sometimes my mind drifts
that little girl, jaded
and long, lazy hours spent sleeping
sweetness on the breeze
when love is always
crushed beneath
a hint of eternity

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.


Saturday with the Muse


baby’s breath is
a hint of eternity
a blush of the
afterlife lingering


eggs in the garden
left for tiny fingers
to find, melted
chocolate, petals
crushed beneath
heaven’s stillness


when love is always
a fight, someone’s
not listening


deep green afterglow
sweetness on the breeze
spring
rain
softly
falling

~kat

Magnetic Poetry Online


Florescence #7

seeping, spring-time showers
are good for the flowers,
and long, lazy hours spent sleeping

~kat

For Jane Dougherty Writes Daily Florescence Poem Challenge.


Therapy – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 7

tell me about your childhood, growing up
white, catholic, always on the cusp of fat;
a pretty, chubby girl raised in Chicago
suburbs where the blue sky and crisp
air insulated you from the creeping
stench of urban sulfur grime,
deep roots that burned your nostrils
on weekend trips to grandma’s and Wrigley Field
over the freeway and through the narrow grids

tell me how you escaped the madness,
of sainted parochial teachers,
your mother’s malingering,
your father’s drunken, manic swings,
swimming homeless in a murky,
sea foam pool steps away from dark,
one-room, Doe’s Motel efficiencies…how
have you survived, been spared
a bullet between the eyes, the sin
and ultimate demise of your father?

you’ve managed, haven’t you, to
scrape a middling existence, ever
on the cusp, a dose of medically
managed lucidity, nine to five
dependency, for a few seconds
of bliss, your progeny’s kisses,
midnight sessions scribbling, making
music, making love, glimmers
that make ordinary, extraordinary, but
I think it’s safe to say
you’ve not emerged unscathed, so
tell me about your childhood
or not, I see her in your eyes,
that little girl, jaded

~kat

NaPoWriMo 2018 – Day 7