that's mrs. mediocrity to you

of course it all depends
on how you pronounce it
this word that means
both ill and null and void
this word that creeps up on you
even when you lie there
perfectly still hoping
against hope that
what you are is
something other than
not important
something other
than terminal or
debilitated or even
just plain sick
but this word
it just keeps
creeping and you can look
away if you want
pretend
it’s not there in the
room with you but
this is a word
you cannot
run from

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

bitter is a bell
that rings true
at midnight

sings loudest
in the heart
of the insomniac
who cannot
look away
look away
from the depths
of disillusion

reverberation
echoes hollow

molds melody
from habit

finds comfort
in decision

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

the sun moves in warm squeaky slithers of light
and i have acres of work still to cover today
yet i rest my head on this crumb-coated table
to watch an ant drag his dead friend home

i remind myself that he feels no grief and is,
in fact, simply gathering supper… i can’t help
but admire his tenacity and try not to inject
humanity into mother nature’s mandala

my heads feels as heavy as the body of resistance
that refuses to fit through a crack in the floor
and somewhere in my mind a song starts to play
about the sky and an ant and a rubber tree plant

and i think how easy it would be to stand up,
end the struggle unfolding before me, a squash
and a crunch and futility becomes forever but
i’m tired, oh so tired, and i kind of like the view

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A poem a day for 30 days. In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo, see more here.

almost far away
she found
an almost disaster
supported by almost
anything but hope
and she saw
with eyes almost open
an (almost)
ordinary life
filter down
through the years
sing song and
pretending
everything
is okay
almost good
almost bad
almost pretty
almost happy
almost broken
almost beaten
almost
turned inside out
almost drunk
almost delivered
angry
almost bitter
hurt
almost fragile
vulnerable
almost hopeful
invisible
almost old
deprived
and
hanging there
in between
every almost
that existed
growing round
like a vine
clinging hard
hanging on
was always
the white space
almost never
of escape

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I found this photo on flickr and was immediately, almost creepily, drawn to it.
The original is here. Poem title is a line from a favorite Cowboy Junkies song.

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A poem a day for 30 days. In honor of National Poetry Month, this post is
part of NaPoWriMo. see more here. And also dVerse poets Open Link Night, join us!

i could fill up a house

with all the things

i need

and you would laugh

at the emptiness

before you

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

is the one that first comes too early
and then waits too long to deliver

green promises that blindly hover
in too tight bud inside too hot days

followed by darkness that freezes
and forms brittle patterns on glass

that holds you in more than it allows you
to see out and you watch as every bowl

in the house fills with words that are
all the wrong shape and the only one

that makes any sense at all is rage
and perhaps a little bit, disappointment

and it’s not like you didn’t know
this day would come, it’s just that

no one ever tells you that when spring
turns to summer it is time to set seed

or at least they never tell you how much
work that is, all that energy spent just

so tiny bits of something will carry on
after you die and besides it is simply

much more fun to be a flower

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.
Also joining in the fun at dVerse poets Poetics, join us!

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beckons

screams

flails

whispers

.

she knows

everything

except

how to die

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

what started out as a run on a day when bones
were too weary tired achy grinding against each other

sorry to carry me further farther faster anywhere
became a walk in which words dropped from my shoulders

like perspiration and all i could think about was what
would happen if i just kept walking kept walking in a line

that’s never straight or to the point or drawn with a
ruler, a line that goes on forever or at least all the way

to pennsylvania and then i decided it might be better
to be a bird with no luggage to carry, no decisions

to make no time for pause or regret or indecision
my only concern would be survival there would

always be food to forage or some kind soul
to set out seed and i would travel light

so light all scattered feathers and
fabulous views and each day

would end with
a song

.

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

i will take a picture of silence
she said
and giggled into
her tall glass of wine that
should have been lemonade or
at least some pretty russian vodka
and you threw me that look across
acres of time we have both already
crossed in bare feet and blisters
and the only thing left to do
was smile

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

on this day when
…….nothing
is as it should be
i sit beneath
…….this tree
…….watching pinecones fall
…….and birdsong bury

it’s all too pretty
…….too perfect
…….too much
…….
…….i dig my hands
…….bare
…….into earth
…….filled with root
…….and worm

…….to remind myself
……………this tree
……………this bird

…….of the accidental
…….vagaries of truth
……………that lie just
……………beneath the surface

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A poem a day for 30 days.
In honor of National Poetry Month,
this post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.