NaPoWriMo – Day Nineteen – ‘A Walk at 5am’

I’m having a terrible time this year keeping up. Anyway, today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to do an ABC poem. I do not have the skill to do a traditional one, so I’ve merely written a poem in each line begins with a word in alphabetic order. I hope you all enjoy and have a lovely day!


‘A Walk at 5am’

Aching, I cannot help but leave the house at this hour,
Barely taking the time for the necessities, wallet, phone and boots.
Calming down has always been an easy difficult thing for me, I stomp out
Dawn has not cracked, won’t crack for hours, danger in only in cars
Easing their sleepy owner towards some destination, but right now
Fresh air is waiting in the darkness outside, and the city silence
Greets me with the shush of its cars, I will leave home and step out into the
Hungry, dappled shadows thrown by street lights through the trees along the road.

I will walk alone, tired of everything and stifled, I only need to get out. It will be
Just a harmless walk. I know what way to go, from here to where ever my feet take me, that
Knowledge has long since settled into my bones, a wanderlust for blind nighttime walks.
Letting my heart drift in the early morning breeze, there is no moon or
Moon light, just the gentle curvy of a back road, patches of darkness slipping between
Notches of warm, golden, orange light. I wonder where my heart might take me this time.

On down the road, there is a sea of asphalt for the strip mall, and only the barber and arcade open.
Perhaps, it is vacant enough to rest. There are little cars to care about, and little care from their drivers.
Quickly enough this black sky will lighten, but for now I have found somewhere to relearn how to breathe,
Reality will slink back into place eventually, and the sky will lighten as more noises pitch in as the world wakes.

Sitting here, right now, I know that time passes too soon, and I will have to move, reverse my walk, and go back
To that house. I will go back into my room, resume an honest life by the light of day, but right now
Under this lamp, behind the cover of night, I can live slowly. In the gentle touch of wind I can hear god’s
Voice, and for the first time it is not belittling me for all the weaknesses I have felt throughout the week.

Would you ask me to stop, to step back into that place even a minute sooner, when right now the world is so
Xenodochy, nonjudgmental of who it welcomes – as it has welcomed me. I’ve no doubt it would welcome
You. But now, see, the light is breaking, and I must leave it all, I must go now that the world is shaking itself awake
Zealously – but maybe tonight, or tomorrow morning, I will find my heart wandering me back to this place.


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NaPoWriMo – Day Seventeen – ‘The Cat’s Companion’

Good morning! Day seventeen of NaPoWriMo brings a prompt to write a poem that presents a scene from an unusual point of view. In this case, a cat. Specifically my brother-in-law’s cat take on video games. This came out surprisingly well all things considered. I hope you all enjoy and have a lovely day!


‘The Cat’s Companion’

There you are on the bed
Sleeping as if you did not just spend
Hours watching that window of yours.
I’ve no doubt you spent it imagining how great
A hunter you’d be in that different world.

So now, what are you doing, laying stock still –
It as been hours, are you also dreaming
Of your window and that place, now black and silent?
In sleep do you no longer find yourself separated
From that world by it’s thick glass. I understand.

We are the same, you with your window
And me with mine. Our only difference lies
Is the worlds in which we watch.
Your’s I make little sense of though sometimes
I join you, but I’ve only seen a loud, violent place.

You yowl and the birds you hunt are not any birds I see
Through my glass on the other side of our shared room.
Yet of the two of us, I am the one who’s stalked and tasted
Another world, felt a beating heart die in my claws, but you,
You I have never seen leave. Sleeping now, do you hunt in your dreams?


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NaPoWriMo – Day Sixteen – ‘In Praise of My Bed’

Unfortunately, I missed the last two days. Day sixteen of NaPoWriMo calls for a list poem to defamiliarize the mundane. After a long day of work I naturally had to write about going to bed. May you all enjoy and have a lovely day!


‘In Praise of My Bed’

First, it will not leave me even when I must leave it.
Second, it welcomes me almost immediately upon coming home.
Third, without it, would I call my house a home – No sheet to cover me, no bed to call my own?
Forth, beyond it, I know no more solid a thing full of love that I can and willing throw myself on. All else complains or breaks.
Five, it does not hurt when I hurt it. My collapsing upon it dog-tire and smoke filled does not make it feel any less toward me. No depression is too much to make it leave or break.
Six, nothing else can be so easily renewed, my demons and past regrets are cleaned literally from it’s body. Simply stripping it bare and flipping it over – fresh sheets, fluffed pillows, it becomes almost a new person to me, and the following nights are the sweetest in memory.
Seven, the only other thing that treats me as gently after I am bodily forced to break it in are shoes – and in their spite they give me blisters and blood it all. A new bed gives me sleep.
Eight, it is truly the only thing that is wholly mine. I do not have to share it for I sleep alone. There is nobody else to demand its attention or my own.
Nine, it is the only thing that does not judge my unwillingness to leave it when the morning light tumbles jealously through my curtains.
Finally, my dreams are born upon it and everyday I wake up it has gifted me tomorrow.


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NaPoWriMo – Day Thirteen – ‘The Problem with Ghosts’

Day thirteen for NaPoWriMo calls for a spooky, mysterious poem. I also threw in some humor. It is based on actual thoughts and experiences.
Anyway, I hope all you reading this enjoy and have a lovely day!


‘The Problem with Ghosts’

Do you think they follow us
At our heels through everyday
Ordinary tasks, whole hours
Waiting and watching us go out,
Picking up bread, reading a book,
Sleeping, showering, and bathing?

What else do the dead have to do –
It’s been a while since the lights
Flickered out, the door closed without
A hand to guide it (from what I’ve seen).
No cold chills, no cold spots, no obliviously
Strange noises echoing when I sit up
Late at night preoccupied with thoughts
More haunting than any supernatural guests
Seem to be attempting with me.

Yet, I know this house is haunted
By something, someone silent enough
For me to forget, until unexpectedly, again,
I hear the crying in the hallway while home alone,
And after getting up and walking around
Trying to find the source, the thing to
Help or maybe blame (all depending
On where my kindness lies that day),
It stops and I give up, disturbed but not enough
To move, again, from the sofa.

It doesn’t always happen at night, but
One night I was asleep until she (and the sobbing
Pointed to a she) sat down beside me.
I woke, frozen as the bed dipped, her hand
Warm and gentle on my covered shoulder.
I did not move, merely forced my eyes
Closed, and my panicked heart to still. This wasn’t family
Visiting my rented home, and I lived alone.
In the morning I checked the front door,
Found it still locked, and nothing touched but me.

The thing is, my curiosity is killing me –
There are hours, days, weeks, and months
Between being reminded that I have a housemate.
What is she doing? What do ghosts do
For entertainment? What spices up their existence –
Surely, I have already bored her beyond a second death
If she is stuck watching every day go slowly by
While at my heels, or does she stand around wondering
Why I’m wasting my life (is that why she cries?).
Need I leave the TV on, would that be polite?



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NaPoWriMo – Day Twelve – ‘The Price of Diamonds’

Good morning! There were two prompts to choose from for NaPoWriMo: A poem about loving a dull object and why, or a poem about throwing away a significant object. I went with the latter, because that’s what happened on paper. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!


‘The Price of Diamonds’

As the saying goes:
There are some people
I would give the world.

And I would, I would give her
The diamonds that she gave me,
I when I eventually lay her in her grave,
And heap gifts upon it as high
As low as the day my world will sink.

I would lay down in her grave-
Large yellow roses blooming
From my teeth, my blood, my hair
Twisting in the rose bush’s roots –
If that was all that it would take.

We give gifts to the dead,
Flowers and sweet words, and feasts
They will not get to eat, but also we give
The dead our memories, such as the sound
Of their voices murmuring half asleep.

We give gifts to the living, each other.
I was given a dozen, seed sized diamonds
Older than those gnarled knuckle bones,
A little silver heart for her heart, grandchild,
So happy broken when I was all grown.

She said they were from a dead husband
She’d rather not remember them by,
So I took a silver chain as thin as thread,
Wrapped it haphazardly around my neck
And grew for her fresh memories.

I would count the red robins nesting
Every winter, I would count the wisteria blossoms
Every spring, and summertime her ghost will find
Me up to my knees in the lake counting every
Flash of fish my blurry eyes could that day will see.

But Autumn was her favorite season,
So I can only hope to paint the colors of the leaves
On the trees she might’ve seen. I would turn
Those dull, dead leaves into something pure,
Breathless, and free –

And time will turn those dull, dead leaves
With all her bones, all our bones,
Into a diamond ring.



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NaPoWriMo – Day Eleven – ‘When I was Born’

Day eleven of NaPoWriMo brings a poem of origin. I apologize now, I’ve had little to no time to edit this, and frankly it’s a bit long. I’ve got to get some sleep before work, so I hope you enjoy it regardless. May you have a peaceful day!


‘When I was Born’

Rage was the color of my house.
I was told
“They said you wouldn’t live”
Since I was two years old.

When I was born I saw
Monsters in every shadow,
The woods, mountains, and lakes
Full of shadows –

I was a matchbox baby,
They thought they would have to burn-
“They didn’t expect you to live”
Echoed after me at only ten.

Dreaming of things people later confirmed
Were unfortunate memories,
I was boldly declared I was going to grow up
And be somebody –

Anybody. I didn’t know what poverty was,
Only scrambled eggs for every meal with hot-dogs.
I could cook it myself. I cooked it myself
On the stove all alone while she slept off

Another day and night, shots all the shots
Outside somewhere, friends that weren’t friendly.
She’d slur to me when she’d eventually come back
To the sofa:”I didn’t think you’d live”

I come from hearing my grandmother tell me,
When she was barely old to be old herself,
If only she could’ve helped helping me

Then maybe I could’ve come from a different place.
And in that other world that I could’ve been from
I might not have ended up so kind, but possibly
Be able to live, not this mechanical need to stay alive.


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NaPoWriMo – Day Ten – ‘Smells Like Rain’

The tenth of the month brings a poem using a regional phrase, preferably in terms of weather. I remember hearing a few years ago that someone I know used this phrase while in California, and they got a lot of weird looks because of it.
I hope you all enjoy this piece and have a lovely day! It’s been raining here and it’s been a great sound to doze off too.


‘Smells Like Rain’

Down here we can smell it on the wind
Which occasionally steals patio furniture, chimes
The potted plants, bottles, grill, everything left out –
All found half gone in some ditch, against some tree.

Not red but green, molten clouds can bloom
At anytime, the sulfur can be smelled before it hits.
I always thought it was a beautiful thing, back before
I saw it’s destruction, whole houses caved in.

And sometimes it smells like
Spring before it’s spring. The sudden gentle fury
Dropped from above, as if the sky was impatient of the earth,
Throwing water down to wake it up from its slow slumber.

It’s on the wind, cool and expectant, a blessing,
I have smelled warm thunderstorms, crisp snow,
Approaching oceans turning to weeks I would spend
Soulfully indoors – All hours before they’ve hit.

I heard once that in some places, they don’t
Smell rain. It doesn’t ever smell like rain, and I wonder
Then do they ever know when the clouds on the horizon
Will be their last storm, will they have time before it hits.


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NaPoWriMo – Day Nine – ‘Another List of Things’

The ninth day of NaPoWriMo, and with it a list poem! I hope you all enjoy it!


‘Another List of Things’

A Small List of Things That Once Brought Me Joy:

Long nights, cool nights, with lights turned low
And coffee – late nights spent reading, spent talking.

And sleeping all day, or least all afternoon.
Mornings spent rolling over, not having to move too soon.

Thinking out loud, going outside, watching the sun
Show time with the colors in the sky, watching it all slowly pass.

Working, moving forward, making the future I once dared to dream..
Planning meticulously every day, I loved planning everything.

And now, I fear all these things. Every day gone is gone too fast.
Sleep feels like I’m missing things, a list of things, another list of things.


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NaPoWriMo – Day Eight – ‘Do Not Return’

Day eight of NaPoWriMo! The prompt for today was to incorporate a workplace phrase as the driving force or metaphor for the poem. I’m not sure I did so correctly, or clearly… Anyway, may you enjoy it and have a quiet and calm Monday.


‘Do Not Return’

This place reminds me of you,
Though I know you’ve never been here,
States away, miles and mentality –

This places tastes like rain. Like you.
I doubt you’d seen these trees like coffee stains,
The sky’s a rushed watercolor of grays and blues –

This place is calm, it’s cool, it has
Something unspeakable, unbreakable like you.
Yet, there is something beyond my sight mocking –

This place is like a picture of a memory
Sent from me to you, a little postcard in the mail
You eventually marked return to sender, and I –

Remember as I hold it shaky in my eyes,
Have forgotten you, I am haunting you.
This place, I knew, I marked it too.


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NaPoWriMo – Day Seven – ‘Your Present’

Today’s prompt was to write a poem about gifts – giving or receiving. Please enjoy – and try not to mind any typos. Last night was a long night.


‘Your Present’

Would you accept from me
This morning, not yet 7am,
The sun still shy in half slumber.
It has not began its springtime raging.

Rain drifts toward us from the future
You can smell it in the breeze,
A storm darkens some one else’s morning,
But not our purple sky, light mist turning

Orange and yellow, before a light blue
Begins to haunt us for this silent day,
With it’s Sunday drivers making their way
Slowly, curving along back roads to God.

Take it. Take this quite, slow going
Morning and spend it how you wish.
Coffee and oranges on the porch –
Or rolling over, unhurried and finding

Divinity lurking in your dreams
As outside the sun attempts to outshine itself.
Tomorrow comes in hurried seconds, so for now
Accept a morning of peace and rest.




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