I’m far too transparent, an open book, having perfected the subtle art of giving shade, the smirk and the eye roll I don’t need pennies for my thoughts… to begin with, my thoughts are worth much more than pennies, but you will know what I’m thinking without me having to say a word I could never be a statue
I’ve known a statue or two that have made quite a statement but statue-speak is set in stone it’s rather boring, no matter how earth shattering, except for that first impression of course that’s basically all you get I’m telling you, I could never be a statue I have a voice; I refuse to be silenced
there are things more important than artistic perfection and cold features chiseled from stone or cast in copper things like kindness, compassion, intelligence, empathy, a conscience and love…there is that too I could never be a statue… I will never agree to be seen and not heard
~kat
NaGloPoWriMo 7 April 2025 Prompt: Today, we challenge you to write a similar kind of self-portrait poem, in which you explain why you are not a particular piece of art (a symphony, a figurine, a ballet, a sonnet), use at least one outlandish comparison, and a strange (and maybe not actually real) fact.
And here’s your glimmer: the bunnies are back! And the hummingbird is hanging out!
a splash of summer mocking fresh with “flavored as” sick sweet imposter
~kat
I will spare you the commentary I had started to write about what’s happening in the world. Suffice to say, it’s feeling less and less safe everywhere these days…unless you’ve been living under a rock or digesting too much Fox, you know.
I promised myself when this year started, I would look for glimmers everyday to keep me grounded.
Without further delay, please join me in welcoming our first returning hummingbird back from his long journey from Central America. He’s a handsome dude. And I admit his arrival was a surprise! He started to tweet loudly from the feeder stand outside my window until he got my attention, and then proceeded to glare at me. You see, I was planning to put feeders out this weekend. My bad! He was clearly not happy that I had not prepared for his return with the fanfare he deserves! Namely a smorgasbord of sweet water dispensers.
I stopped what I was doing…working on a spreadsheet…I needed a break anyway…to get feeders out. I hoped he would forgive my error and not move on to another feeder somewhere. He made me sweat for two days. That’ll teach me! And then this morning there he was. Hanging out on the perch, leisurely taking sips of nectar.
Thank you universe for today’s glimmer and reminder that we need to take care of one another.
Much love, peace and glimmers to you.
~kat✨✨💚✨✨
NaGloPoWriMo 6 April 2025 prompt: Today’s prompt (optional, as always) veers slightly away from our ekphrastic theme. To get started, pick a number between 1 and 10. Got your number? Okay! Now scroll down until you come to a chart. Find the row with your number. Then, write a poem describing the taste of the item in Column A, using the words that appear in that row in Column B and C. For bonus points, give your poem the title of the word that appears in Column A for your row, but don’t use that word in the poem itself. I chose line 7…Watermelon…Splash…Mocking. Click on the link above to see more.
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!
if we’re comparing decimals i think the dewey kind I loved perusing card files for books I sought to find a statement that’s conditional shouldn’t need an if and then if you were to mention cosines I might ask you for a pen when looking for a difference it’s perception I employ I’m not sure that it makes sense “to find the difference…take away” I cannot comprehend the math of a, b, c, d, y and x to me their value is in words they’re building blocks of text math and numbers rattle me, a wordsmith to the core, counting syllables at best I’ll do equations I abhor oh I can do the basics add, subtract, and multiply but I’m a writer not a math wiz you ask what…and I ask why
~kat
I’m definitely not into math. I’m forced to use it in my job, creating formulas in excel, doing balance sheets. It stresses me. After a day with my nose in numbers, I’m exhausted. But my job isn’t all numbers. I plan international travel itineraries, manage a series of monthly newsletters, write tutorials and SOPs (standard operating procedures), transcribe meeting notes and actions, manage calendars and schedule meetings. My day job involves only a small fraction of math…until recently. Now we’re drowning in tariff mitigations. It’s a self inflicted (by Donald T) catastrophe that has my team scrambling. “Just the numbers,” my boss tells us. “I need numbers.” **Sigh**
I don’t need numbers. I need words. I need affirmations to get me through the latest chaotic whims of this terrible administration. I need glimmers…every. single. day. I noticed this scene on my nightly walk this evening. Right on time. A glimmer, stirring lovely memories of my beloved rescue pup, Theo. This was his favorite spot in our yard. He loved those pink flamingos placed under our huge white oak tree. We’ve been waiting for the ground to thaw and soften to receive Theo’s ashes. Even in the bitter there is sweetness.
Much love, peace, and glimmers to you.
~kat
pink flamingoes under the old white oakTheo
NaGloPoWriMo 3 April 2025 prompt: write a poem that obliquely explains why you are a poet and not some other kind of artist – or, if you think of yourself as more of a musician or painter (or school bus driver or scuba diver or expert on medieval Maltese banking) – explain why you are that and not something else!
once great, colossus stands in shame on Liberty’s guarded shores sounding the alarm she cries to pilgrims near and far you are no longer welcome here at these tall shuttered gates her torch has been extinguished by a cruel wave of hate she’s a mother now in exile, since they stripped her of her name she weeps for all her children, “please don’t come here, it’s not safe.” the torch she once held high went dark in 1984 its replacement never glowed as bright as it had shined before the tired, poor, the refugees, still came to seek her face but the gatekeepers decided that these souls should be erased the pillars on the hill are toppling, tumbling to the ground no freedom or democracy, as a dictator is crowned the world watched in horror as the great colossus fell history once again repeating, truth, future tomes will tell
~kat
NaGloPoWriMo 2025 – Prompt: write a poem that directly addresses someone, and that includes a made-up word, an odd/unusual simile, a statement of “fact,” and something that seems out of place in time (like a Sonny & Cher song in a poem about a Greek myth).
I took my inspiration from the poem by Emma Lazarus. The poem and a few facts are listed below.
To my international friends…I’m so sorry my country’s poor choice in electing a crazy person now affects you as well. The latest news from the rose garden…tariffs. It all feels scary and messed up. But here is a fun fact that illustrates what a band of lunatics are in charge!
There were substantial tariffs imposed on two uninhabited volcanic islands… well one of them is inhabited by penguins, seals, and seagulls. Social media had a field day…
“The Heard Island and McDonald penguins have been taking advantage of us for too long – it’s about time we stood up to them!” former New Jersey congressman Tom Malinowski joked on X.
Sometimes all you can do is laugh at the craziness. We’re all waiting I’m sure to see if the penguins decide to impose a retaliatory tariff on us!…there’s your glimmer for today. It’s impossible to take any of this seriously even though it is dead serious. All I can say is, be kind to those you encounter. Be a glimmer in someone’s life. We’ll get through this…together.
Much love, peace and glimmers to you…and penguins…I’m hoping to stay on their good side!
~kat
“The New Colossus” is a sonnet by American poet Emma Lazarus (1849–1887). She wrote the poem in 1883 to raise money for the construction of a pedestal for the Statue of Liberty (Liberty Enlightening the World). In 1903, the poem was cast onto a bronze plaque and mounted inside the pedestal’s lower level.
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
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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