they know where I live the turkeys, the bluejays, the crows, oh, they know where I live the squirrels and the deer…they know they come for a few sprinkles of seed and feed my melancholy soul
~kat
I wish I had a photo to show you. We had to go out for a few hours today. When we returned a 1/2 dozen Jennie’s were wandering around the yard. As we pulled up to the house we noticed one standing at the gate entrance to the back yard and our main entrance. It was if she had been waiting for us to return home.
The wild animals who live in the woods near my property know me. They know my schedule. They watch me from the shadowy brambles and from behind the trees. When I moved here from the city several years ago, people asked me I I would be scared to live out, in the middle of nowhere. But I. Can say without a doubt there is nowhere like this oasis in the middle of the chaos. And there is nowhere I’d rather be but nowhere…here were I have rediscovered my roots and my kinfolk on the edge of civilization.
much love, peace and glimmers to you.
~kat ✨✨✨💚💚💚✨✨✨
NaGloPoWriMo 15 April 2025 Prompt: And now for your prompt! While Brother J.C.’s warm-up and Kenyon’s poem might seem very different at first, they’re both informed by repetition, simple language, and they express enthusiasm. They have a sermon/prayer-like quality, and then end with a bang. Your challenge is to write a six-line poem that has these same qualities.
they were out and about today, doing normal the people, everywhere I looked, as if nothing was unusual, as if no crisis was near, disturbing, while everything spirals to nothing stock markets crash, tariff wars rage, laws are ignored the people are blissful, impending doom ignored
experts on the news are reeling, losing their minds students of history sound the alarm…”not a drill” they warn, “we’ve seen this before, it doesn’t end well!” the plunder, the gaslighting, “drill baby drill” masked vigilantes enacting their agenda we the people, lost in the chaos, forgotten it’s not normal how normal things seem, we’ve forgotten
the principles our ancestors fought to preserve liberty, freedom, justice, just to name a few opportunities afforded to everyone the pursuit of happiness for all, not the few as history’s rewritten and lies replace truth will future generations ever know the truth
~kat
A wee bit late…moments past midnight. I had almost given up. The task seemed too great, after an exhausting working long weekend. As I settled in to rest, finally, the muse tapped me on the shoulder. “We are writing tonight…” And here we are. Another poem in the books.
Glimmers…we had a few. A whirlwind visit from my three youngest grandchildren aged 8, 6, and 3…(ages added to validate the whirlwind comment 😉). All my grand children and great grandchildren are glimmers. They are my hope. I’m so sorry we’ve made such a mess of things for them.
Back to glimmers…focus kat…being wrapped in the hugs of tiny humans is definitely a glimmer that will hold me for days. And dandelions. There are dandelions too!
Much love, peace, and glimmers to you
~kat ✨✨✨💚💚💚✨✨✨
NaGloPoWriMo 13 April 2025 prompt for the day (optional, as always). Donald Justice’s poem, “There is a gold light in certain old paintings,” plays with both art and music, and uses an interesting and (as far as I know) self-invented form. His six-line stanzas use lines of twelve syllables, and while they don’t use rhyme, they repeat end words. Specifically, the second and fourth line of each stanza repeat an end-word or syllable; he fifth and sixth lines also repeat their end-word or syllable. Today, we challenge you to write a poem that uses Justice’s invented form.
These guys are finally settling down. No puffed up feathers…no strutting! I have developed quite an appreciation for the wild Turkey. Magnificent beasts…And today’s glimmer. With so many things happening in the world today. I am so grateful that these Toms came by and reminded me that sometimes it’s okay to relax and hang out with friends. Normal can be a beautiful thing, especially in the midst of chaos.
1-
shaded gray
endless rain, gray skies is it gray or is it grey? cold and dreary…it’s grey
~kat
2-
the peace worker’s piece
she was on a roll an inspiring role i hear it was here that she wrote by rote a piece about ways to peace nothing new, she knew but a message we’d forgot ‘twas right to write it
~kat
Today I wrote a couple of poems on topic exploring the homophone…
Homophone Definition: one of two or more words pronounced alike but different in meaning or derivation or spelling (such as the words to, too, and two); or a character or group of characters pronounced the same as another character or group
NaGloPoWriMo 10 April 2025 prompt: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that, like Bibbins’, uses alliteration and punning. See if you can’t work in references to at least one word you have trouble spelling, and one that you’ve never quite been able to perfectly remember the meaning of.
the woods are silent, gentle grace …fading deer-folk scattered and displaced, fading.
hunters encroached this sacred space death himself leaned in, posthaste…fading.
they did not come at dusk to graze the lovely doe with young erased…fading
bullet blasts had pierced the dusky haze under cloak of night the fields were razed …fading
take time to grieve kat, these darks days it’s a lot to take in, hate on display…fading
~kat
It all came crashing in today…did I tell you about the roadside roundup we saw on the main road near my home? There were two police cars, lights strobing as 4 officers surround a young man with light brown skin, wearing a baseball cap…my first thought…is it happening here now?
Then last night someone nearby was shooting a rifle, each round unsettling the peace, and all I could think about were the beautiful deer who graze on my property. “I hope they’re okay,” I thought.
Tonight was especially quiet, the turkeys made their usual trek up the hill toward the woods, but the deer who always pass through around the same time were nowhere to be seen. My heart sank. Did they succumb to that late night shooter…or did they just disburse into the mountains, frightened by the sound and of gunfire. I’m hoping the latter and that in a day or two I’ll see them again.
And then it hit me. I need to grieve. At first the firings and the deportations, the shuttering of institutions, etc., etc., etc., were a distant news event that disturbed and concerned me but had not yet touched me personally. This week we all felt the sting of a president gone dictator as we each became marks for his wave of destruction and cruelty.
I need to grieve every loss before the weight of it all breaks me. I still hope the deer return for a pass through from the far off hills. I hope that those who have been cruelly fired are able to find work, I hope those wrongly incarcerated or deported will be returned home. I grieve for them all, and for the broken global alliances that have been shattered by the heavy hand of a single man with an insatiable ego. I need to grieve what we’ve lost so far. I still grieve for the children separated cruelly from their parents during 45’s first term. I grieve for all the children. They don’t deserve the trash heap we’re leaving to them. So much to grieve that I’ve been holding inside trying to be strong.
That’s my glimmer for today. Stop holding your breath, waiting for the next horrible thing. The left shoe has dropped… breathe…let go the fear…the pain, as you exhale…now grieve and breathe again.
Much love, peace, and glimmers to you.
~kat ✨💚✨
A Ghazal for today’s NaGloPoWriMo 8 April 2025 prompt: try writing your own ghazal that takes the form of a love song – however you want to define that. Observe the conventions of the repeated word, including your own name (or a reference to yourself) and having the stanzas present independent thoughts along a single theme – a meditation, not a story.
This is a photo taken of the morning sun using my iPhone camera. ~kat
beyond the frame
my room has frames of living art shades of green and blue and gold rain-splashed watercolored trees clustered leaves in pale chartreuse exposed patches of earthen clay rich in grubs, where turkeys play
each window of my country home reveals the splendor just outside i wake up to the sun at dawn and drift to sleep by moon at night my walls in general are bare paint on canvas can’t compare with nature’s perfect masterpiece where I am a one with all I see
~kat
I have stated before that when we moved to our little country home in the Blue Ridge foothills we decided to leave the windows undressed. It felt weird at first. I felt exposed, vulnerable even. But as I settled into this new experience after decades of shuttering myself off from the world outside; from the noise and nosy passersby, I realized what a gift it is to live so close to the natural world. I experience the seasons intimately as the landscape moves through spring, summer, autumn and winter. Wildlife passes by everyday, the birds, the deer, raccoons, squirrels and opossums. Storms rush in, shaking the roof, bending the trees and soaking the earth before fading to mist under an occasional rainbow. I wake to the rising sun and sleep under a starry moonlit sky. I didn’t realize when we moved how much I needed this place. It has saved me in so many ways and I am reminded that I am not separate from the world around me, but intrinsically a part of it. I left town and gained the world.
Much love, peace, and glimmers to you. Every day is a glimmer waiting to be discovered!
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!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kat Myrman and Like Mercury Colliding with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
