Tag Archives: Poetry

Sunday’s ReVerse Poem – 27 September 2020

it’s been a few weeks of random. Some days I was inspired to write several poems. Others, I struggled to find words. Several jots never made it past my notepad. Working from home in our new weird alternate reality has taken a toll on me, I’m afraid. Sleep has eluded me. But I’m not giving up nor am I giving in. Baby steps. A word here, a flash of brilliance there. Like two pieces of flint tapping together, I know eventually there will be a spark great enough to ignite the fire in me again. And like a phoenix I’ll spread my wings and rise from the ash. For now I’m tending to necessary self-care. Working on getting more sleep. Watching less news. Staying safe. This is my favorite season. That is the one true thing that sustains me.

Peace and kindness to you. Pass it on. ❤️

Sunday’s ReVerse Poem – 27 September 2020

and yet still, she blooms,

that you are lost for good, I fear.

nothing to see here, all is great

I forgot to lock my head

one day I plan to be

as if we needed more heartbreak…

apple cider, cinnamon steeped, nips my tongue


A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week…or in this case, the past few months!

apple cider sunset

apple cider sunset

leaves droop drearily on exposed branches
tinged amber from the sun’s fierce fading,
fire-red on the horizon at dusk of day,
the autumnal equinox is upon us, crisp and cool,
apple cider, cinnamon steeped, nips my tongue


A Gogyohka for Colleen Cheesebro’s Tanka Tuesday Challenge.

dark days

dark days

darkness enshrouded
moon fading slowly to black
bodes fury at dawn

As if we needed more heartbreak…
two hundred thousand souls now gone
a stalwart prophetess moves on
now when there is so much at stake
with riots in the streets, earthquakes,
fires, floods, hurricanes…can’t look!
The year god looked away, forsook
our selfish prayers, our hateful ways,
our sins exposed on full display,
our end assured by hook or crook.


Combining Ronovan’s challenge today:
Haiku Challenge Words – Fury/Slow

Décima Challenge Word “Look” (c-line rhyme) – Rhyme Scheme: abbaaccddc/8 syllables per line.

learned acquiescence

learned acquiescence

I am domestic
learned from my mother, 
from her mother,
private, distant,
a shadow
I act the part
as time whistles through
one day I plan to be


A Blackout Poem inspired by poem by Suzanne Buffam, seen below:

I am wearingdark glasses insidethe house
To match my dark mood.

I have left all the sugar out of the pie.
My rage is a kind of domestic rage.

I learned it from my mother
Who learned it from her mother before her

And so on.
Surely the Greeks had a word for this.

Now surely the Germans do.
The morewords a person knows

To describe her private sufferings
The more distantly she can perceive them.

I repeat the names of all the cities I’ve known
And watch an ant drag its crooked shadow home.

What does it mean to love the lifewe’ve been given?
To act well the part that’s been cast for us?

Wind. Light. Fire. Time.  
A train whistles through the far hills.

One day I plan to be riding it.

Suzanne Buffam, "Enough" from The Irrationalist. Copyright © 2010 by Suzanne Buffam.  Reprinted by permission of Canarium Books.
Source: The Irrationalist (Canarium Books, 2010)

3 A.M.

3 A.M.

I forgot to lock my head
left it wide open, in fact, how
careless of me, before stretching
my toes to the memory foam’s edge,
wrapped to my ears in satin-lined
down. Of course I can’t sleep, with
that incessant drip, drip, drip, because,
wouldn’t you know, I left my brain on too,
just a smidge, enough to dry up the well
water, water everywhere, dry to my bones,
tired of counting sheep, stupid sheep, at
three A.M. while a moth slams Itself
against the strobing blue-green light
from the smoke alarm on the ceiling. I know,
I know it’s hard to resist crazy, when
it courses through your veins, damn weak
link in the old double helix, instinct perhaps,
but, about that door, we don’t live in a barn
here you know…yeah, I know, but what about living in a barn is meant to dissuade me? It’s
4:27 A.M. now, two more hours before dawn
or the alarm clock, whichever comes first,
ruining a decent REM cycle…if only
I’d locked my head before turning in…
4:51 am and counting…4:52…4:53…


%d bloggers like this: