not-quite Journaling, 7
snow, I would fall on you
warming winter-kissed limbs
until spring blossoms.
2/18/21: A video of the snow falling, here.
your fingers play
silent concerts on my spine,
my hips sing shivers
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.
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.
a red yawn
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?).