Great prompt. Great picture. Not-so-great poem.

I'm not very happy with this poem, but something is always better than nothing so I won't complain too much. The prompt is courtesy of Read Write Poem and the image is from Doug Shaver. I am sorry to have done neither of them justice.


Cemetery in Malvern by Doug Shaver


In Cemeteries with Ghosts

Sitting in the grass we grasp at
handfuls of Spring blades
(Or is it Fall; I can’t keep track)

Hold them in the palms of our hands
Let the wind float them to another dimension

We used to be afraid of the dark and ghosts
Now we’re all grown up and afraid of death
It feels silly to admit, but I’m still afraid of spiders

We have hidden agendas
We have heads full of hopes

And dreams
And disappointments
We’ll bury them tonight is this warehouse of strangers

We don’t know these people
Who they were; who they wanted to be

We trace the names carved with such precision
Make up stories about the lives they lived and share them
Via telepathy

Lucky to have the kind of friendship
that doesn’t need words

Dear RWP and getting my poem on with words, words, words!

Dear Read Write Poem,
We became such good friends during NaPoWriMo, now we hardly see each other. You were amazing, offering inspiration when I needed it the most. It's not that I don't need you anymore, time just isn't on our side. Still, I want you to know that I think of you often and fondly. Please accept this small poem as a token of my affection, inspired by your wonderful Wordle prompt:

Love Slump

Hearts loiter in the sky
Flaming
Lost

Calling for a séance
Caught in a love slump

The words in this prompt were fantastic. I used almost all of them. Words used from the prompt are as follows: hearts, loiter, sky, flaming, lost, séance, slump.

Life in a time capsule.

Here is the list of items I would place in a time capsule to memorialize my life thus far. The prompt is courtesy of the always fabulous One-Minute Writer I cheated because this took me longer than one minute to write...it was more like ten.

Pictures (family, friends, and my dog Lola): because I love them.

Charlotte’s Web and To Kill a Mockingbird: because they are my favorite books.

Fiona Apple CDs: because she is my favorite musician.

An old journal: so the person who finds my capsule can read about my life.

Copies of some of the poems I’ve written: because I like to pretend I’m a poet!

Mark, my stuffed bear: because Piglet is too important to me.

Tarot cards: because they remind me of high school.

A pen and blank notebook: because I always have a pen and paper on me.

Mardi Gras beads: because they are fun!

Hair ties: because I always wear them around my wrists.

Stargazer lilies and red roses: because they are my favorite flowers.

Vanilla scented candles: because I love vanilla scented things.

Copy of my birth certificate: proof that I existed.

My Dwight bobblehead doll: because The Office is my all-time favorite show.

An empty Starbucks cup: because I love coffee!

H2O; Ten Years Later

This morning my landlord's family decided to turn their sprinkler on and in the process soaked our living room. The couch, the chair, the table, everything was soaked. Our fault I guess for leaving the window open. We should have known it would come to this at some point; they love that stupid sprinkler and the little patch of grass that they water even on days when it rains. Oh...just venting.

As a treat for letting me vent, here is a poem:

Ten Years Later

I collect reasons to love you
Place them in drawers
Hide them in corners

Wherever I turn I’m forced
to remember, when what I really want
is to forget

For you. A day late. Next week/last week.

Years ago I wrote a lot of "letters" starting with Dear You. I revisited that time in my life for the prompt over at The One-Minute Writer. Next Week/Last Week was actually yesterday's prompt, but I didn't get around to trying it until today. Here's what I came up with:

Dear You,

Last week I gave in to someone else’s touch. He reached for me and I was too lonely to resist. I thought about you the whole time.

Next week I’ll pretend it didn’t happen. And if you ask me, I’ll deny it. We'll both know the truth.

XOXO,
Me

Sprouting Up Roots

I wrote a little while back that my poem Sprouting Up Roots had been accepted for publication on the website of The Cynic Online Magazine. I was notified that they would feature my poem in their July 1st edition, but they posted it early, in their June 1st edition. I've been so busy that I didn't think to look for it before the July 1st date, so I actualy missed the debut of it's online publication, but it is still available in their archives. I'm also posting it here.

Sprouting Up Roots

I'm a meat and potatoes lovin' kind of girl
What could be more American than that?

Baseball
Apple pie
I adore those things too

To some
I'm just another foreigner
Sprouting up roots
In the soil that belonged
To their forefathers

Theirs,
Not mine

After all,
I have no ties to George Washington
No link to Thomas Jefferson

I listen to excuse after excuse
And bite my tongue
I play along
Pretend it doesn't matter what others think
Try to ignore the fact that it really does matter to me

Push myself further along
Toward the American Dream

All the while
Longing
To sink my hands into the dirt

Plant the seeds
That my grandmother
Gave me as a little girl,
Grow a history
To make my ancestors proud