To My Lonely Blog: I Miss You

I have a couple of poems over at Poets 4 Paris—a project I am happy to be part of.

Submerged

Seeking Refuge

The Color of My Heart That Day

I miss you.

* * * * * 

A Day Later (a Poem)

How is it November? 

One thing I like about November is Robert Lee Brewer's Poem-a-Day Challenge. Today's prompt is to write a day after poem. My attempt is below.

Delivering Hope

 A Day After

In September I held you 

over my knee,
tickled giggles
from your single-
digit outlook.
October came
you wore your goblin
mask all month long, stabbed
me with your plastic
scythe, gouged
out my rose-colored
eyes, moved tears in
where my father’s
once lived.
Now it’s a day after—
a new November.
The only hope a solitary
bird reporting
news of an un-wounded
sun
still shining,
the only light
left in this turbulent
world.

*****

All That's Left of Our Playtime (a Poem)

I've been busy with some other things, but I do miss writing poetry.

So when I was invited (thank you, Pamela) to join a Poetry Chain on Facebook for which I need to write five poems, and I was told there is no deadline, I decided to accept the challenge. Only, I need to nominate five poets to play along. Interested? If so, please let me know and I will send you the details.

It Was More Fun in Here With You

All That’s Left of Our Playtime

I had a pillow fight
with myself
in my California closet.
I found need, want, love
—you—
tufted and rolled sideways
into the sleeves of my lonesome
vintage dress. You, a boy
made of whimsical designs,
the one who stole
buttons to get
to my heart. You, who
left me
vulnerable, snipped
away my labels,
left me
without a red-carpet gown
for my Hollywood love story,
left me
with only pilled sheets and pillows
and this cavern of a closet,
left me
pretending
you hide inside,
positioning your love
on antique lipstick stains,
left me
rejecting
winks on my pillows,
left me
with nothing but
pillows in an empty closet.


*****