Tag Archives: Poem a Day

no trace

no trace

the light slipped away
hope is dead, go quietly
a dream leaves no trace

~kat


Today’ Blackout Poem worked perfectly as a haiku style poem. It was inspired by the poem by Courtee Cullen below:

If You Should Go
Countee Cullen – 1903-1946

Love, leave me like the light,
The gently passing day;
We would not know, but for the night,
When it has slipped away

So many hopes have fled,
Have left me but the name
Of what they were. When love is dead,
Go thou, beloved, the same.

Go quietly; a dream
When done, should leave no trace
That it has lived, except a gleam
Across the dreamer’s face.

This poem is in the public domain. Published in Poem-a-Day on June 28, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets.


longing

they were like the sun
and the moon, their paths
only touching at dawn
and dusk, he, longing for
night, she, for the day

~kat


Magnetic Poetry – Nature Kit


nothing

nothing

nothing

the time
for words
ended,
they refuse
to be touched,
tiny hearts
that can’t love,
that reminds us
we are the worst
for the ineffable
belief in nothing
and what it leaves
behind…nothing

~kat


A Black Out poem based on the poem below by Seth Abramson.

What I Have
By Seth Abramson

Twelve dollars sixty cents,
& the fact that there is no blood no storm
can’t wash into dirt, that the time for these words
is already ended,
that for all the rain that has been here before
so have I.
& there is less water in the world
than a famous woman once said, & I know that,
& that the stars in the river
also are real I also know, for they disappear also
& refuse also to be touched. & I have touched 
bare things, & it works—
it can be the sole unbraided moment in a life—
but even so, what better days look like to me is still
the tiny gore
of heartbreak, & long walks with small shoes
that can’t be taken off,
& schools in a city I love that put molded cages
over their clocks,
because that works too to remind us
we are not ready. & the worst of all is anything that
stays as it is
when touched.
At lunchtime a woman famous for her ability
to praise the ineffable

says she can’t believe anyone returns
to where they came from.
But of course they do. In fact
some do nothing else. & what is it they leave behind?
 Perhaps not the meaning of time,
but the time of meaning, & the fact that whatever
happens, tomorrow
will change it.

Source: Poetry (March 2009)


a whisper

in the stillness
a whisper is music
to our ears, like
soft mist rising
after a storm

~kat


Magnetic Poetry-Original Kit


ash to ashes

ash to ashes

i know how it feels to stand tall like an
ailing tree, to push every ounce of life
from my core, to bloom on the outside
because that’s what trees do,
to dig my shallow roots into the clay,
to bend brittle limbs, to break,
with every gust of wind, clinging
to who i was born to be, though
imagining the dream has begun
to fade…i know…and yet there are
moments when i remember once
upon this fragile life, my head was
lush and green, dancing on the breeze,
golden sunrises and sunsets in crimson
and purple, starry nights, the moon
full and bright, how many seasons
i have weathered, how many autumns
practiced letting go, letting go, letting go,
how many winters rested in the cool,
crisp silence of new fallen snow,
how many springs, burst into buds,
blooming, providing shelter for nestlings
near my heart, rocking them gently
in the crook my branches, how many
glorious summers, ah sweet summer,
even now as i fade to dust, i revel
in warmth and drink in the cool rain
life has been good, life is good,
every day precious, every day a gift
yes, i know how it feels old tree…i know

~kat


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