Friday, March 5, 2021

Love Understands

not-quite Journaling, 7

Were I snow, I would fall on you
gently—caressing, coating…
warming winter-kissed limbs
until spring blossoms.

2/18/21: A video of the snow falling, here.

 

when your fingers play
silent concerts on my spine,
my hips sing shivers

2/20/21: Written on upcycled tea bag paper during one of my forever reviled no coffee years, after one of my Piano Man’s yummy back rubs. They do say that pianists can do magic with their fingers. It seems they can inspire poetry, too.

 

Love understands
wild, weird, and me.

2/20/21: If I had the chance to craft this poem bit anew, I would probably include the word “My” to the beginning of the piece. “My love understands / wild, weird, and me” sounds more personal. The “My” also adds duality to the poem’s meaning, leaving the reader to decide if the speaker is referring to how they love someone or how someone loves them. Language is magic, isn’t it?

 

2/27/21: Crafting Memories”, because the end of February tends to be a difficult time for me. The 28th the is anniversary of my little brother’s death, so my heart is heavy—8 years feel like no time at all when it comes to loss. I miss him (and my heart hurts) like if the accident that claimed his life had just happened.

 

exhausted,
amaryllis blooms
a red yawn

3/3/2021: Also, she looks like Audrey II... with more interesting teeth.

 

Some days I am grateful
for all things, most days
just for you.

 3/5/2021: The world is full of people and circumstances terrible enough to make most of us wonder, what’s the point? Then we are touched (in a totally non-creepy way *cough*) by individuals so incredibly wonderful that we can’t believe we ever even considered the “what’s the point” question. Today, take a moment to tell someone just how glad you are to have them in your life—I, for instance, am both happy and grateful to have you to share my ink and thoughts and feels… (especially these last couple of weeks, when the anniversary of my little brother’s death hit me harder than I ever thought possible). So, thank you.

- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #60: What Got You Started?)

Saturday, February 27, 2021

Crafting Memories

Wails are absent,
today. There’s Bachata music,
and gentle torrents of stubborn tears
gloss my grin--I always
grin

on February’s end,
when echoes of your voice season
all my thoughts,
when coconut milk simmers
with brown rice and pigeon peas
under a bed of fresh plantain leaves

(because tastes and sounds matter
when crafting memories of gone love
back to life)
.

Wails are absent, but there is music.


photo by Dave Weatherall, on Unsplash


- for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #59: Love and Loss)