Saturday, July 6, 2019

Rest in Peace

I wrote the below poem in late November when my beloved India first started showing signs of deterioration. Loyal as she was, she had trouble saying goodbye. I had trouble saying goodbye. Yesterday, we finally did.

Resisting Arrest

Dog tracks line
the kitchen floor.
They smell of
blindness &
rotten teeth.
They lead to stains
of a future,
     buried, like her
cherished bone.

The dog rests
on the bedroom
floor, too tired
to make it to her
(death) bed,

too tired
to die today. 

It’s been a day since we parted. My heart still hurts. She was my guide through loss after loss—cancer, heart failure times two, cancer, cancer, cancer, people who fit into that whole seasons, reasons, and lifetime category, and on and on it went for what seemed like forever.

I have been working a lot today but decided to take a walk. Normally I see a few rabbits when I leave my house. But today they were everywhere. Next it was the lizards. To my right, to my left.

I got a little farther and my intuition told me to take a different route. And there it was. One of the pennies my father likes to leave in my path. Then the little tree. Another symbol I associate with him.

I started to feel a little better, yet soon India popped back into my head. My heart sagged with sadness again. Until nature, magical nature, swooped in to surprise me.

Some sort of winged beetle zoomed in front of me and landed on my sleeve, causing me to look up. 

There, staring at me, was this message, hand painted on a rock: Have faith and you will never walk alone.

A Gift from #LetsRockAmerica

From Dad? From India? That part doesn’t really matter. What matters is that I felt someone watching over me, an otherworldly presence. And I know that when I walk, all those who’ve flown from my life, still walk beside me.

My Sweet India

* * * * *

Saturday, April 27, 2019

(In)Complete Edition

She’s an incomplete
travel guide-
book, bound together
with rusted
old metal clips,
jammed in the back
of the bottom
desk drawer
where no one bothers
to look anymore.
She can tell you
what to pack &
where to get a map,
so just slip open
that compartment
where you tossed
her aside.
She’ll tell you
where to go.
Just don’t expect
a divine trip
to the other side. 

Photo by Stefan R.I.
Some Say We're Already There

I'm currently swamped with work, so I'm catching up when I am able. Here is the prompt for Day Twenty-Four (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Complete (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem. Possible titles include: “Complete Best Day I Ever Had,” “Complete Guide to Writing Poems,” “Completely Wrong Way,” and “Completed Set.”

Monday, April 22, 2019

Sympathy Card (Sorry for Your Loss)

Dropped me
in that slot,
ran away,
forgot you
sent me
on my way
until that guy
on the other end
received me,
read me,
displayed me
on a shelf.

Photo of rose and card by Justine FG
It's What's inside That Counts

Yes, I know I skipped Day Twenty-One; I'm hoping to get back to it. For now, here is the prompt for Day Twenty-Two (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a correspondence poem. Maybe write a poem that would fit on a postcard or in a letter. Or write a poem about correspondence school. Or jump into newer forms of correspondence like e-mail or text messaging. Of course, not all correspondence is connected to communicating; sometimes one thing corresponds to another by being similar.


Sunday, April 21, 2019


Fill your dark
with anything
without a face,
without a heart,
without a mind.
Wonder why
you never
your way.
Wonder why
you ran
out of time.

Photo of statue by Joakim Buchwald
Are You Sure You Aren't Made from Stone?

Here is the prompt for Day Twenty (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a dark poem. Cave poems, poems at night, and no electricity poems–these are all appropriate for today’s prompt. Of course, dark has several other connotations as well. An underdog is often known as a dark horse, a villain may have a dark heart, and Batman is known as the Dark Knight. Heck, when I was little, I thought Darth Vader was Dark Vader.


Vanity Plate

You’re a snappy
vanity plate
one word, misspelled,
snarky, clever.

I’m an old-school
bumper sticker
from a
summer vacation.

But even though
I’ve come unglued,
my peeling edges
draw more attention
to my tail
than your need
for speed

that lead to excessive
to the body shop.

Photo of street signs by Joe Rooster
We Both Have to Follow the Same Signs

Here is the prompt for Day Nineteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a license poem. There are many different licenses available to people. Fishing license, driver’s license, license to plate, license to kill, and marriage license. Poem doesn’t have to be about the license, but it could mention a license, happen at a licensing office, or well, use your poetic license.


Friday, April 19, 2019

Little Time

All I wanted
was a little time
to revisit Lake
Union with you, lay out
a rowboat
for us to float
the day away,
catch dragonflies
with our cameras,
zoom in to behold
their grateful smiles.

All I wanted
was a little time
to trail your footsteps
up the hillside,
scour huckleberry
bushes for berries
teeming with vital
juices, then park
myself across
the room & sip
the darkest reds
of Cabernet with you.

All I wanted
was for you to keep
your promise,
stick around
instead of leaving me
to lament
that we had
too little time.

     All I wanted
     was a little more time
with you.

Photo of rowboats by Ali Taylor
All Those Boats Are Empty Now

Here is the prompt for Day Eighteen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Little (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem. Possible titles include: “Little Guy,” “Little Richard,” “Little Mermaid,” “Little Italy,” and “Little Words That Pack a Big Punch.” I think if you think about it for a little bit, you’ll find a big (or little) poem to write.


Thursday, April 18, 2019


is not a reason.
Please specify why
you can’t reveal
the truth, and when
you need
a quick answer,
just say yes or no,
or give me
some time
to think about it.
But before you let
them spill
from your mouth,
your words will live on
long after
your body
is gone.

Photo of dictionary by Carlos Koblischek
Know the Meanings of the Words You Speak

Here is the prompt for Day Seventeen (copied from Writer's Digest):

For today’s prompt, write a reason poem. If this prompt seems unreasonable, just remember all the reasons you write poetry or enjoy cooking, dancing, singing, etc. Or provide a reasoned argument for your lack of reason. Only you know your reasons.

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