I want to believe that my life matters in this anonymous, faceless world where we have grown suspicious of touch where kindness and empathy are a four-letter Word I need a hug and a good, long, ugly cry to cleanse myself of the sadness that overwhelms me in what we have become if there is a god… may I learn to be one who never wonders if there will be enough who rises at dawn with a song on her lips may I learn to be a sparrow
I am a universe a constellation of scars black holes of abuse cratered by the meteoric blows of broken men rendered powerless who felt eclipsed in my presence my heart broken and mended time and again I am a miracle of nature a patchwork of sorrow a brilliant supernova of ecstasy my body is a life-supporting orb its outer space a Milky Way of stretch marks that trace paths across the soft landscape of my core where life bloomed again and again erupting into new universes as well as a shooting star that left a trail of tears falling under the weight of gravity before disappearing into the night I am the sun, warm, radiant, fierce, and the moon, a reflection of all that is true, with the power to shift tides that erode stone set in place for centuries, reclaiming their course shards into the deep, leaving a soft, cool surface for children to sink their feet I am a mystery, I am an open book my eyes, pools of compassion, my voice dripping pearls of wisdom, I am love, I am hate, I am day, I am night some will say, oh, she is just an old woman but lean in a little closer my dears and you will see…I am a universe
~kat
It’s Mother’s Day weekend here in the US. It’s weird this year. So much of what we fought for in my youth is being eroded away by those who dream of the world before women were given rights. It wasn’t that long ago that women couldn’t own property, obtain credit, vote, or make health decisions for themselves. How quickly things slip away when we take them for granted.
And so, we celebrate mothers this weekend. If you are fortunate enough to have a loving mother who is still in your life, cherish her. Be sure to tell her that you appreciate her. And if your life is complicated…i wish you peace and healing.
Much love and glimmers to you. Today was a cool spring day. That was glimmer enough for me. I hope the sun is shining wherever you are.
yeah…I’m gonna pass… the next apocalypse, that is it’s exhausting get the vaccine, or not wear the mask, or don’t whatever you do, don’t get bit, zombie cooties are lethal let us not forget, “you know who” with his itchy, little fingers has the nuclear codes now and he’s not afraid to try them…oops clean up on aisle 47…
instead, join me in the bliss of the present moment I’ll bake us cookies we can sip tea and watch the sun rise…and set dream of nothing not even tomorrow, because tomorrow’s not promised to any of us…apocalypses come and go, but the question, the question always is, did you live in full, the life you’ve been given… don’t answer that just do it, leave the zombie slaying, and apocalypse surviving to those who believe it will make a difference because the truth is… no one gets out of here alive
Think fast What would you save from apocalypse? What’s in your Noah’s arc or “just” in your car fleeing from some emergency? You have 10 minutes to gather your “valuables.” Write a poem about your most precious belongings. / Recommended reading: “Writing Poems in the Middle of a Catastrophe” by Özge Lena
I didn’t forget today’s glimmer. There is no pretty photo to share for this glimmer. I started the day like I usually do. Walked Gabby (my pup), fed all the critters under our roof and tossed a few peanuts outside for the crows, and then, I gifted myself with a morning nap. I slept deeply until noon. I had chores to do, and I got to those, but those few extra hours were lovely. A gift to myself. And a reminder to myself and you, dear reader…self-care, no matter how that translates to you, is not an indulgence, but it is essential to keeping you, you.
much love, peace, and glimmers to you. Take care of you! We need your light in the world!
americans love cheap shit mr trump, with his golden toilets, and gilded, garish opulence, doesn’t get us why else would he declare war on the only thing that makes our simple lives livable…cheap shit, meticulously engineered, easy to assemble kits of a gazillion pieces, pressed, laminated planks with precisely pre-drilled holes, vacuum packed bolts and screws, tiny hex keys to put it all together, it’s an afternoon’s entertainment with a surprise at the end, like cracker jacks (if you’re old, you know), and the satisfaction of building something usable: a chest of drawers, lawn furniture, toys, cabinets, shelves, and so much more you have to admit china is good, very good at producing the bargains we crave… destroying democracy is not enough for the vindictive tyrants in our crumbling government they had to shut down our access to cheap shit too
~kat
I am proud to say I assembled the chest of drawers in the photo above, as well as a dresser, a nightstand, and recently an outside “egg chair swing”, an open coffee station rack, a bread box…clearly I am a fan of “made in China” stuff. The latest tariff shenanigans are a real bummer. It’s the end of an era.
But all is not lost…while I may not be able to afford made in China stuff in the future. I shall enjoy sipping tea while swinging in the warm summer breeze in my new egg swing…it is the perfect place to chill after a long day…the perfect place to write poetry! And my glimmer for today!
Much love, peace, and “some assembly required” glimmers to you!
The sum of its parts Consider the objects in your home. How did they get there? What resources were required to produce them? Write a poem about the origin of one or more of your possessions. / Recommended reading: “Putting Together Ikea Furniture” by Clint Margrave
I felt her watching, ignoring us, glaring, judging, hating our perceived sinfulness, determined not to serve us as if serving us somehow condemned their fragile faith and threatened their entry into heaven I tried to ignore her we just wanted pancakes for breakfast when I was sick the ER desk clerk asked, “who is SHE?” SHE will need to wait outside family only…but, she IS family the doctor won’t see you if SHE is in the room I try to ignore them I just wanted her with me when I was sick the whispers, snide side glances accompany our travels, wherever we go…we second-guess safety make mental notes of unsafe people and places…they claim we have an agenda, that we threaten their families…but we are a family we try to ignore them we just want to live our lives they voted for fools you know the ones who enjoy dividing us the ones who want to tell every he and she how to live and who to be…the ones who want us to suffer and we wonder, how could people who say they love us, choose them we can’t ignore them anymore our lives depend on it
~kat
Today’s Glimmer…The Eight-Spotted Forester Moth. This one’s a beauty. Often mistaken for a butterfly because it travels during the day. Symbol of transformation, beauty, and the importance of embracing change.
Identity politics poetics There’s lots about ourselves that we can’t (and wouldn’t want to) change. Some of those things put us at risk in a culture that, more and more (I’m looking at you, America), “others” all but the straight white male able-bodied experience. It’s critical that we document what that’s like to live with that reality. Maybe you experience harm from -isms or -phobias or maybe you experience privilege. Either way, write a poem related to how perceptions, assumptions or cultural “norms” impact you. / Recommended reading: “evening : girl” by Gabrielle Brant Freeman
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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