Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Five – ‘A Light Haunting’

Many apologies – I have been ill the past few days. Still going too, but at least I’m a little livelier than before. There’s probably going to be a number of mistakes and typos, but I can check those out later. The twenty-fifth Shadow of May question was: What three things do I most value?

‘A Light Haunting’

My house feels haunted, is haunted
By me. The soft whispering of my feet are
Still just as uncertain despite the two years
They’ve brushed against the concrete floors
That have supported my slippery shadow as I ghost
Between the front door, kitchen, bathroom,
My room – a path of half-existence taken daily.

Sometimes I see the sunlight drifting
Between the semi-closed blinds by the couch,
And sometimes there is food in the fridge
Waiting for when I remember that I’m alive again-
For no mater how tranquil I feel in my incompleteness
There is an existence outside of work, books, and sleep,
Which might require basic actions of me.

It’s a calm sort of crazy, sort of madness,
Haunting myself, that is, being there and yet gone.
For eighteen years I was trained to be quiet and light
On my toes, so much so that I learned to drift from room
To room. My mother began hanging up mirrors just
So she could catch me every now and then, but years later
I forgot how to stop and, I don’t know if I can – or want to.

Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Four – ‘Cold Lemonade’

Lately I’ve been feeling out of it with my writing. It happens from time to time. I just haven’t been enjoying the tone that I’ve developed over the last few weeks, maybe it’s because I haven’t written this regularly in a long time and it’s spreading me thin. I like to think I get better piece by piece, but, alas, instead I usually get annoyed and feel like I write the same poem nine times. They all start to bleed together and seem… I’m not sure how to say it. They don’t read clearly for me. Anyway, my point is – I’m trying to.. move back to more solid and clearer language. I’m also not a huge fan of first person, but I suck at everything else. Lol.

Enough of the word vomit. Today’s Shadow of May asked: How do I express myself?


‘Cold Lemonade’

In the south we are taught
Hospitality is keeping to yourself
While reaching out to others, like
Cold lemonade offered in the summer.
Polite, Friendly, and just shallow enough,

Not to be intrusive, but
You would not realize it by the letters
I mix together every night and morning-
There are so many emotions that I am
Just too weak and unwilling to express.

Pen ink appears much warmer on paper
Than any ounce of forced politeness I give.
The summer is usually so warm, but this year
I have grown to love the cold,unnatural storms,
And I enjoy seeing my face in the puddles they leave.

There’s just so little time left for cold lemonade
When it storms, and sometimes it’s better this way.
You don’t need lemonade when the heavy, wet air will do.
The warm pavement, warm ink, warm everything – it hurts
And most times, I’d prefer to keep all that to myself.

Shadow Of May – Day Ten – ‘Being Happy’

Sorry for the late post for Shadow of May day ten! Was up all night fighting with Blender trying to build a 3D model for a long term project – I blinked and it was 3am and I had work today at 10… Anyway, day ten’s question was: What three things makes me happy?

‘Being Happy’

It’s all the little, pointless
Bits of comforting chaos I find-
Late nights followed by too early mornings
(Rushed, teeth unbrushed, coffee dead in cups),
Or storms when the sun should shine
(Equally a blessing or a curse in disguise).

I want to feel this life of mine.
I want to prove my life is mine.
Happily, I exist in fickleness and perplexity,
Happy also becoming everything and nothing.
I’m happy in three unsolid states of being.

Shadow Of May – Day Nine – ‘Alone, I Sit In’

Enjoyed my day off tomorrow helping a friend with a project. Depending on where it goes I might talk about it here, or not. Who knows? Anyway, today’s Shadow of May questions were: How do I feel about solitude and How do I feel about loneliness?


‘Alone, I Sit In’

Peace inside
My little heart;
Alone I find myself

Comfortable thinking
In empty rooms
As I try to

Shadow of May – Day Seven – ‘All in Time’

Here’s Shadow of May day seven! This one has been the easiest by far to answer.
The questions were: How do I feel about being alone? Why?

‘All in Time’

I worry little for loneliness,
And why should I?
Sometimes it’s nice to enjoy
Darkness, night, and pure solitude
Without worrying when the Sun
Will eventually shine, when people
Will look at me and speak their hellos.
It all comes in time, gentle time
Or harsh time. The sun will shine.
The sky will, again, darken – all in time.
That’s okay, that’s fine- perfectly fine.

NaPoWriMo – Day Twenty-Nine – ‘Lilies’

Didn’t get around to posting this yesterday due to yesterday’s big storm – so here it is now! The prompt was to take a concrete noun from our favorite poem and use it as a anchor to brainstorm a new one. I my favorite poem is Tennyson’s Lady of Shallot (I even have a tattoo based on one of the stanzas) and from it I took the noun ‘Lilies’


We used to grow tiger lilies in a tub
At the edge of our old, rotting porch.
As a child I thought they were the world,
I petted their slim petals where they curled.

My childhood seemed so lily white to me.
My childhood seemed steeped in immortally-
I thought with kindness of the life I would live.
I imagined with gentle promise what I could give.

And I thought it all would last forever
As we all tended to once do, and whenever
I can I stand outside, find some sort of lilies
Any, I remember as a child, were my Achilles –

A hero from my not so white, not so pure past.
Short-lived was my childhood, while it could last,
But I can still remember the fragrance, and that gentle
Not-so gentle, way I dreamed of becoming something monumental.

NaPoWriMo – Day Twenty-Five – ‘The Closet’

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to explore a small, defined space. This was fun to write.

‘The Closet’

There are a few hundred mysteries to behold
Some hanging, some laying, some folded
Between all these cloths bought half-old
In that little closet of mine standing swollen.

There are shoes, semi-worn stuffed in nooks
Four shirts well worn, two pairs of pants well torn
A few various coats above the dresser slightly broke,
So much fabric lost and living, socks randomly sitting.

And I’m never quite brave enough to begin the cleaning
In the spring when I must decide between precious things-
There’s my jacket, from a friend in China, worn occasionally.
A quilt my great aunt made that’s never faced my bed.

Little lives lived in every string sown and cramped together
That I only ever see dug out every other spring and winter.
There’s a sewing machine used thrice and then forgotten,
My various bags and backpacks, a tent, a tarp, and hookah.

All the many little fragments of the hasty life I’ve lived
Are shoved into my closet when I can’t begin to comprehend
How I got this far in life – when did I buy this wig? Was it
This last Christmas? Where have all my socks gone again.

NaPoWriMo – Day Twelve – ‘Home’

Today’s prompt was alliteration and assonance – I’m much better at alliteration than assonance, but I tried. Anyway, this piece needs some more work, but it’s been a rough day at work (and hopefully I’ll be getting a new job soon that’s in my field of study). This is what I could do tonight!



A home is such a fragile thing-
Where can you find one? Where can I?
I want to be welcomed without worry.
To wide, wide windows and home
Home grown window plants- lavender,
Rosemary, sage sitting in five dollar buckets.
I want them to great me, them and the books
The books braced against each other on the shelves,
Full lives lived and lived lightly between pages
I have turned time with, turned nights with,
Under the wide, wide windows where I sit,
Sit silently, so quietly I can hear the outside
World, a world I can welcome in time
If only I had a home to walk into without worry.

NaPoWriMo – Day Ten – ‘The Artist I Know’

Today’s prompt was to write a portrait of someone close, and well, my best friend is whom I’m closest too. This was pretty hard to do – surprisingly so.

I did her no justice.

“The Artist I Know”

Carefully we’d ready it all, the pens and palettes
She was methodical and fluid, eager and jaded.
Blank, only momentarily, the canvas is sized,
I’ve only lost days to how our time flies
While we spoke about everything life offered,
But between the words and pictures, a quick break.

We’d met in some sort of dream-
She carried shadows in her wrists
And so did I, so did I, little butterflies.
In time, midnight became our favorite time to meet-
Sore joints and fingers stained by our everything,
But eventually it must all end to begin again.

On the porch with hot tea in tired hands.
It’s raining, all falling, cool wind kisses
Us as we sit, talking and quiet, worrying
What will happen when it ultimately ends.
A dream only lasts if you never wake,
And we both know we’ll wake again.

I’m yawning, she’s drawing.
It’s almost 5 am, and it’s hard not to give in.
The rain does not stop, her eyes do not stop.
The porch light shows us how to see, while the sun
Barely begins to ascend, it’s just starting to peek
Across the horizon, it’s sizing us up- the weak.

There are shadows in our wrists and we know,
The Sun knows. We’ll have to part soon.
Smoke escapes from her lips and drapes the air,
Fresh, rainy air – the drops reflect perfectly
In her eyes, a flawless contrast is shown, she is
Watching, I am watching too, as the drops fail to fly.

NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo – Day Four – ‘A Lazy Mourning’

I wasn’t quite sure how to approach this one – An enigma is an enigma to write. I tried remembering if I had ever read any enigma poems, and the only one that came to mind was “The Emperor of Ice Cream” by Wallace Stevens. I could think of nothing else.

My sister helped me out on this one, I didn’t know what direction to go. She wanted something peaceful, so I gave her something we both know. I enjoyed writing this, but I feel the secret is too obvious – rather lacking as a secret. But I wrote it so I’m a little indisposed to know how well it’s hidden. Also, don’t know if we’re supposed to eventually post the secret – but I’m going to guess no.

‘A Lazy Mourning’

Meet me on the porch, my Dear-
I want to watch it all come down.
Coffee and tea between our fingers,
Sit beside me, listen to that sound.

Let’s soak up this October breeze,
7am, but no birds to hear around,
I bet their hiding in their little nests
Dreaming above and in this little town.

It’s just you and me, just me and you.
The rest are all gone and silent as we sit,
But neither of us worry and that’s okay-
We’ve agreed we’ve always been a little misfit.

A lazy day, some tranquil hours,
Tell me how have you been?
Sweet your tea and moments, please,
Warm up just a little more, then.

A warm cup for you, a warm cup for me-
Look up at that sky so beautiful and crawling!
Let’s sit it out together, once more again,
I love our quiet mornings spent to all this falling.