Tag Archives: free verse

who am i ? – NaPoWriMo 2019 #11

who am i?

sometimes i go barefoot just
to feel the earth murmuring,
infusing me with nature song,
lilting sweet, fierce…one day
i shall return to those cool, dark
catacombs below to cavort
with the worms and slugs

i’ve been known to hug a tree
or three or more, now and
again to remember how
to bend when tempests reel
and whirlwinds leave me
vulnerable to the cold, in
nakedness, learning to let go

i have floated in still pools and
on the edge of wave-rushed
shores learning to trust in
buoyancy and the rhythm
of all life’s ebbs and flows…
listening to chattering shell
shards dancing just below

i have counted on a thousand
stars, each night another wish
proposed, felt the moon’s
dizzying nudges, helpless as
the ocean tides, cursed the sun
on sweltering summer days
embraced the dusk and dawn

who am i, but flesh and blood,
carbon, hydrogen and air…to
think that i am separate from
everything i see and hear, the
universe is deep and wide, and i,
a blip in time, a dot in space who’ll
one day disappear without a trace.

~kat


NaPoWriMo 2019 #11 Prompt: write a poem of origin. Where are you from? Not just geographically, but emotionally, physically, spiritually? Maybe you are from Vikings and the sea and diet coke and angry gulls in parking lots. Maybe you are from gentle hills and angry mothers and dust disappearing down an unpaved road. And having come from there, where are you now?

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It’s Been Three Weeks, But Who’s Counting? – NaPoWriMo #3

Just Three Weeks, But Who’s Counting

it’s been three weeks, actually,
19 days, 6 hours and 27 minutes since
the spot made its villainous appearance,
19 days, 6 hours and 29 minutes since
“your doctor will be calling you,” the
technician said, careful not to spoil
the surprise…but she knew…she knew

what a wonderful day it was, it will
be etched in my memory forever, one
day I’ll say I knew her when…my
granddaughter, she was magnificent
in her school play…it wasn’t a speaking
part, mind you, but her portrayal of a
tree in the wind…it was breathtaking. I cried.

it was a voicemail on my phone,
a nurse, “doctor so and so would like you
to come in to the office this afternoon”…not
unexpected, the technician had warned
me, she had such a nice smile, kind eyes,
around my age, I’m thinking, we talked
about smart phones as she tugged my
floppy breasts onto an ice-cold plate to be
smashed for their photo shoot, “hold your
breath, 3…2…1” …funny how communication
has changed over the years…

the meeting is at 9:30 tomorrow,
I’ll assemble all the slides for the deck,
clean them up and send them to the
team for a final walk-through…btw…
I need to take a few hours this afternoon
I’ll have my phone with me if anyone
needs to reach me…

“nothing to be alarmed about just yet, but
we’ll want to run a few more tests, an
ultrasound, we can do it in the office today”

an ultrasound…I had those
when I was pregnant…now they’re
doing them in 3-D, you know. It’s like
a snapshot, well, a weird sort of
snapshot, where body parts are
sometimes elongated into distorted
shapes, but so much more advanced
than those first cloudy pictures…even so
two heads were easy to make out when
I found out I was having twins, with
a toddler and an infant already at home
I remember lying there in the dark, crying.

“We’d like you to see a specialist. Tomorrow, 9:30.
Here’s the address. They already know you’re coming.”

I’m going to miss the presentation. Maybe
we can reschedule. Although, they don’t really
need me there. Someone else can present it. No
one is irreplaceable, that’s a fact. I’ll get my
assistant to brief me on the take-aways
tomorrow afternoon. Should be able to keep
my lunch date with mom. Need to remember
to pack that book I told her she could borrow.
Great book, a really great book.

it’s been 19 days, 6 hours and 43 minutes
no news is good news, right? I keep telling myself that.
no news is good news when you’re waiting for bad news
19 days, 7 hours and 2 minutes, a message pinged from
the voice mailbox on my smart phone … doctor so and so’s
office, the nurse again, “no need to come to the office, nothing
to worry about, scar tissue was all it was”…who was worrying?

~kat
NaPoWriMo #3 Prompt: Meandering…to write something that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time. Perhaps, as you do, you can focus on imagery, or sound, or emotional content (or all three!)

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Wouldn’t You? – NaPoWriMo #2

clock

Wouldn’t You?

how can it be? fluffy clouds
swirling past my outstretched
arms, the sky so crystalline
blue, I’m squinting, cool breeze
tossing my hair, sun rays,
warm on my back…flying,
I’m not sure quite how, lost,
my aversion to heights, here,
to take in the sights, a bird’s
eye view, where the niggling
every day is blurred into
a beautiful sea of green and
blue, wet, shiny rooftops,
and the shimmer of leaves
topping the trees…floating,
soaring…bUgs IN My teETth,
tOO cloSe, toO CLosE to the SUN…

SHIT!

WHAT TIME IS IT? I’M LATE! shit, shit, SHIT! Glasses, where are my…
teeth, brush my teeth, take a piss, bad hair day, bad, bad, bad, damn alarm…
damn fucking alarm…

Need to text work, tell them I’ll be…
SICK, taking a sick day…phone on mute,
going back to my soft, warm bed, back,
back to my lovely dream, it’s the
only sensible thing to do, don’t you agree?
Wouldn’t you do the same if you were me?

~kat


NaPoWriMo #2 Prompt: To write a poem that similarly resists closure by ending on a question, inviting the reader to continue the process of reading (and, in some ways, writing) the poem even after the poem ends.

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Self Portrait as Gaia – NaPoWriMo – Early-Bird

Here we go! An early-bird challenge on the eve of National Poetry Month. Today’s challenge for NaPoWriMo: to write a poetic self-portrait. And specifically, we’d like you to write a poem in which you portray yourself in the guise of a historical or mythical figure.

Self Portrait as Gaia

born of Chaos, the gaping
void; she who always was
and is, who in primordial
confusion, fashioned me
from the ooze, greening,
mountains rising from the
seas, caressing the shore
to fields a-flowering amidst
cool springs bubbling into
streams that swell into
rivers…I sigh and a million
stars light the sky as
darkness cloaks the
gloaming, come the dawn

~kat


a rose is…

a rose is…

she’s of a certain
age, you know, a
real beauty in
her prime but
clinging to her
withered gown
makes her look
old with fading
mane once
vibrant, sweet her
fragrance reeks of
musty death, they think
it’s time she gives
this ruse rest, the
reaper waits with
pruning shears, she’s
had her summer
in the sun, to yield
at long last, it’s for
the best, she’s of
a certain age you
know, clinging to
her faded gown but
she’s not finished,
being beautiful, not
yet, she’s not
finished, no, not yet

~kat