Did you ever think
we would find such happiness
sitting side by side
watching dandelion seeds
float away on children’s breath?
A tanka for National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo).
Weed Seeds
Reply
Category Archives: poetry
It’s about
You slither across sun-parched deserts,
wend through mossy forests,
slip between crevasses of glass and concrete
We skip together to the corner store for a soda and candy bar;
we writhe as one, cornered in a dank, underground parking garage.
You come at us, push through us, leave us behind, then
swing back around like a Mobius strip to do it all again.
You take our hand on a warm, country afternoon
and we stroll in comfortable silence down sweet, forgotten lanes.
You cradle us in your fluid arms, whisper memories and dreams,
conjure hope and regret, satisfaction and despair.
We have too much of you, or not enough.
We bless you and curse you, and all the while,
your ineffable presence is steadfast,
defining our very lives.
If you have taught me anything, it’s this:
you should not be taken for granted;
if I fight you, I will lose;
if I embrace you, I will find peace.
Time waits for no one.
Time marches on.
Time is on my side…
So many misconceptions we have about you.
It's no wonder we continue to waste you.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Sixteen prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: write a poem in which you describe something that cannot speak, and what it has taught or told you.
Cursory
It hits my mailbox 9 PM,
the Na-Po-Wri-Mo prompt is in.
I read it once, then twice again,
this challenge of poetic whim.
Waterfalls or blossomed trees,
poets of old would turn to these,
find inspiration on a breeze,
then from known words a poem tease.
Not me! The laptop cursor blinks.
I read the prompt; begin to think.
pull up Thesaurus in a wink,
and if my rhyming really stinks…
A single keystroke and it’s gone.
Without a care I carry on.
When I decide this poem is done,
Hit “Save,” then write another one.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Fourteen prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: write a poem that bridges (whether smoothly or not) the seeming divide between poetry and technological advances.
Enveiled
Two laurels planted side by side,
their fates thus cast to coincide.
Before my time, I’m wont to guess;
their size so grand, both height and breadth.
I know which limb I must address
to pull aside and gain ingress
a hollowed space ’neath entwined crowns
concealed by branches hanging down.
The dappled light, the shade-cooled breeze,
the almond-scented leathery leaves;
In this dark space I can’t be seen
by passersby or go-betweens.
Here I can rest, soul at my side,
to learn the truths that here abide.
Two laurels planted side by side,
their fates now woven into mine.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Thirteen prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: write a poem about a remembered, cherished landscape. At some point in the poem, include language or phrasing that would be unusual in normal, spoken speech – like a rhyme, or syntax that feels old-fashioned or high-toned.
Law Gone ~ an erasure poem
(Text presented at bottom of post if you don’t want to wade through the erasures. )
Law Gone! Introduction: A Neatly Cut American Dream
Since the development of our earliest law,
a privileged founding father of America
sought to elevate our nation's fence
for keeping out lives.
He envisioned a wall like the aristocrat model.
Drive the streets today and you'll see one law
flowing into the next.
It's easy to see how the law became so popular.
When maintained with regular grooming, it can be
used for play and relaxation.
Installing a law is fairly tidy.
Law culture applying -- and suppressants -- became
firmly entrenched and today many councils have codified
standards for a front. Just look at the law --
packed with big business.
The Grass is Always Greener
The fact is, traditional laws aren't well suited to our country.
The particular, as well as the drought-prone law,
often require copious toxic cover,
require several hours of maintenance and the power
comes with a high cost.
Today we have a better understanding of the law's impact.
We're tainted.
All around the country you can find a nation differentiated.
We deserve better -- and we can make it happen.
People hardly use the law, and it can seem awful to
maintain something that you never use.
Other types do a beautiful job of covering, and
help reduce the law that afflicts so many.
Adapt and ultimately use fewer. You'll have the
satisfaction of harming the environment.
Let's reclaim our space.
Law Gone! will show you how to remove the law.
Walk through the methods of law removal and
install your new guard.
If you have rules or ordinances to contend with,
minimize their impact.
Find picks and experts to pinpoint plans.
Explore the possibilities!
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Eleven prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own erasure/blackout poem. You could use a page from a favorite book, a magazine, what have you. It can be especially fun to play with a book you don’t know, particularly one that deals with an unfamiliar topic.
I chose to usurp the introduction from the book Lawn Gone!: Low-Maintenance, Sustainable, Attractive Alternatives for your Yard by Pam Penick. My apologies to the author.
No Words
Some days poetry doesn’t come in words.
NaPoWriMo 2026.
Garden Gait
Dead nettle in a kettle,
gonna brew some tea.
Dandelion makes a wine,
bitter as can be.
Chickweed gone to seed,
feed it to the hens.
Plantain, purslane,
salads out of weeds.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Seven prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: In her poem, “Front Yard Rhyme,” Cecily Parks evokes the sing-songy beats that accompany girls’ clapping games, and jump-rope and skipping rhymes. Today, we challenge you to write your own poem that emulates these songs – something to snap, clap, and jump around to.
Persona
I can read minds, you know, and it’s not always pleasant.
Like right now, you’re showing interest and kind of nodding along like you totally buy into what I’m telling you, because
that’s the persona you want to project: openmindedness.
But what you’re really thinking is that my purported ability to
read minds is totally bonkers, and I must be, too.
We all have personas that we try to sell.
Intellectual, confident, bad ass, honest and open…
Yep, that last one is a projection, too. I mean, maybe you are
honest and open. I’m not saying you aren’t.
But you also want to be seen as honest and open,
because that’s your persona.
So here’s the problem with reading minds:
I can read who you are, who you think you are,
who you think other people think you are,
who you wish you were, who you wish others would think you were…
That's a lot of reading, and -- as I said -- not so pleasant.
So, what about me? Who am I? Who do I think I am?
Who do other people think I am? Besides bonkers, that is.
I really haven’t a clue. What do you think I am, a mind reader?
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Six prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: In your poem today, try writing with a breezy, conversational tone, while including at least one thing that could only happen in a dream.
The Odious Ode
To think that something so revered
could set my teeth to grinding gears,
one only needs to ken
I hate to structures bend.
Too oft I fail to recollect
the rules an ode dost interject.
I’m simply left to guess
and strive to do my best.
I’m sure this poem proves my case
though I confess 'twas penned in haste;
the ode – no friend to me –
remains a mystery.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Five prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: write a poem in which you talk about disliking something – particularly something utterly innocuous, like clover. Be over the top! Be a bit silly and overdramatic.
Horizontal Rain
It blusters, it billows,
the rain comes in droves.
It's typical winter
on the north Oregon coast.
No point in umbrellas,
The wind is a beast;
shreds the cloth with its talons,
snaps the ribs in its teeth.
The rain hits you sideways
soaking deep to the skin,
but springtime comes swiftly
to atone winter's sins.
Now the rain’s slightly warmer
when it slaps at your face.
Umbrellas still useless
as the winds keep their pace.
You can spot season’s changes:
birds perched high lest they drown,
and the newly sprung flowers
soon blown flat to the ground.
It blusters, it billows,
the rain comes in droves.
It's a typical spring day
on the north Oregon coast.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Four prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: craft [a] short poem that involves a weather phenomenon and some aspect of the season. Try using rhyme and keeping your lines of roughly even length.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 