VerseDay 9-19-19

Happy Epic Palindrome Day!

Funny-Celebration-With-Cat

 

Ok, that’s not really a thing. I just…

*sigh* I’m a little off from all of the serious and ADULT-like writing I’ve been doing lately.

I’m overcompensating with frivolity. It happens.

Here’s your Verse, you ungrateful math-hater (oh and by the way, it’s quirky too).

 

Ghost Writer

While you were asleep, I borrowed your pen and scratched ink over that dreadful book you’re writing.

Just a reminder that this was once my house, before you banged open the door and disturbed my rest.

Before you halted my slumber with your key-clacking and plastered that fluorescent post-it monstrosity over my Schumacher wallpaper.

Of all the idiots to suffer, why’d it have to be a writer now at my desk?

What editorial mistake did I make in life to land you here?

I fixed your opening line.

 

 

Priority

Hello writers and readers. I hope you all enjoyed a long weekend and had some time to yourselves for writing or exploring your creativity. I have been balancing the new school schedule as well as social engagements, old-dog vet appointments, and enrichment programs for my kiddos. I’ve been logging extra miles in preparation for the Colorado Ragnar Relay and juggling the details of 12 individuals coordinating 36 hours of their lives together.

What I haven’t been doing is writing.

Or editing.

Or even brainstorming.

It doesn’t bode well for a blogger who touts being a writer to not write. So what does one do, when life around her seems to sap every moment? She prioritizes and shakes off some of the unimportant to feed her soul. After all, that’s what I’m always preaching to you fine people to do, right? I can’t very well tell you how to walk the road while I muck around in the ditch.

So I’m back to the computer this week, setting up some goals for the year. My 40th trip around the sun should have something monumental yes? Besides my body falling apart and gravity being especially cruel on all my jiggly bits? I need something uplifting to balance it all out. So I’m making lists and culling the overgrown herd of obligatory adulting.

We all get overwhelmed and distracted with life and let our time to write, or to paint, or knit or whatever it is that feeds our bigger brain get kicked off the schedule. My hope is that we understand how empty that missing piece leaves us and work to fill it back in again.

As this is my case, I will only be contributing to this blog four times a month (2 blog posts, 2 VerseDays) in an effort to put more of my time towards my novels and the new Poetry Anthology coming out in the Spring.

I’m not sure who will miss my weekly thought purges, but rest assured, I will still be darkening your door, just a smidge less.

Please feel free to send me your poetry or flash fiction, I’ve extended the deadline to December 31st for inclusion into the poetry anthology, “No Small Things”. Even if you’ve contributed before, I’d love to hear more. Thanks for your time and consideration!

Until next week, go work on your stuff! I want to know your time isn’t being wasted and that we’re all doing well by ourselves and our passions. Reach out to me, if you do have a spare moment, and let me know what you’ll be doing to prioritize your creativity in the next few months!

Love ya,

Sarah

VerseDay 8-29-19

I’m not sure where this came from. Maybe it was my old high-school track coach telling me that if I quit, I’d never finish anything in life. (Hey, Mr. S and Mr. R…turns out I CAN actually finish something, including two marathons, half a dozen halfs and six relays, give or take).

Maybe it was the instructor who berated me for “letting” my daughter quit, saying that I was teaching her to give up when things got tough.

To those instructors, I offer this:

A child who knows how to pursue their own happiness, that knows their own heart and can let go of situations that are abusive or dangerous and move on to something better is a child who will surpass us all, because they’ve learned that other’s expectations are not as important as their own mental health and physical safety.

Let’s do one better and become this kind of person in our own lives, starting today.

Let’s be the parents that recognize happiness isn’t measured in instagram likes and crappy plastic trophies.

Enjoy…or get uncomfortable. Either way.

 

Perfect

Born into arms which penetrate hearts

Inject the belief

we were meant for greater things, pal.

Capable of great feats,

(greater than that loser Tommy two doors down)

Set expectation high and don’t ever

Ever

Ever

Settle for less.

 

Aim for the stars kid, and you’ll at least hit the moon.

 

So we aim, eyes glancing back to expectant faces

Waiting for the brag worthy photo to be posted later

Thinking

They’ll surely love me then.

By the measure of counted likes and tiny hearts floating

to the top of screens they rarely look up from.

 

We will excel. We will be better.

We will hurtle faster into adulthood,

And pound on depression’s door with a signed note,

Tug along our anxieties to the bus stops and soccer practices.

Bite nails, inhale, drink it down,

and give the captain of the football team

whatever he asks for.

 

We’ll aim for the stars

hurtle our broken bones and burst ligaments once more

like they’ve pulled a catapult’s lever to expunge us again and again

If it only would mean

They would love us.

 

Maybe when we get on the Varsity team,

Maybe after our third ACL replacement before graduation.

Maybe after the fourth ivy-league school accepts.

Maybe when we’ve lost enough fat to crown the top of the pyramid

In tiny skirts designed to make it all our fault.

 

Watch our faces fall every day

As we are shoveled into cars and

Paraded down sidelines,

Dressed in tutu’s and reminded not to eat too much

Sent to the psychologist because

‘she just can’t focus’ in a force-fed day

Gorged on Latin and dance, soccer and flute,

Math club, robotics, and the triple threat; tap.

 

Future problem solver

Can’t even solve her own problems

Pop a pill, darling, it will help you get our dreams.

 

Never really understanding that the only real problem,

Is the one that tucks us into bed,

Sighing, resigned, that maybe tomorrow will be better.

The ones that feed us breakfast and

Don’t search the backpack for the needles,

Because “he’s born with natural talent”

 

Twisted Sister could have taught you something

Darling perfects

about their trite and jaded ideas

screaming you are not enough

Just as you are,

Just ask you like.

 

You will excel,

Like they never did.

You will severe their noose of tough love

Drop it in your sweaty gym bag,

burn it with your test score report and tap shoes.

 

Do not let them force you

to relive their spent dreams.

Be all. Be nothing.

Land lightly in the space between…

The space that is you.

VerseDay 8-15-19

Hey there kids.

It’s been a whirlwind on my end of things the last few weeks and I’m trying to catch my brain up to my heart in a lot of respects. So this one feels…tepid. Like unsatisfying tap water…too warm to be refreshing, too cold to be comforting.

We all have our days.

 

 

Missfit

 

She doesn’t go

In the lines they drew,

She slithers out

Spills over edge.

 

She doesn’t fit

In labeled boxes and

Carefully thought out plans

She escapes over walls

And flies the coop

 

She doesn’t match the furniture

Or compliment the wall paper

She doesn’t shrink to fit the space

Or diminish into corners.

 

She is not refined in fixture

Not the gray of peripheral

She is ill-placed and jarring

Color splashed on white walls

She lacks pattern and structure.

 

She misfits this world,

Careens past the bullseye,

To shoot wild

Flies across the sky

In dodging weaving trails

Floating butterfly

Stinging bee

 

She is uncontained

And worrisome.

VerseDay 8-8-19

Good morning poetry hounds!

I’m pleased and excited to feature the latest submission from K. W. Bunyap, for your VerseDay pleasure. K.W. is an avid hunter and fly fisherman. He’s an airline pilot by day and a novelist by night, creating beauty with images and words to balance out both sides of his beautiful brain. If you want to hear more about how amazing this guy is (including surviving a bear mauling and poor luck with rental cars, check out his awesome website:

K. W. Bunyap

Today, K. W. will be wowing you with a poem that settles into a special corner of my heart and it’s love of Autumn. Enjoy!

 

Aspen Autumn- 

I watched the aspens turn today 
And witnessed nature’s majesty. 
Orange and gold replaced the leaves 
Of green, and leapt from tree to tree. 

The rising sun poked shafts of light 
Down through an emerald canopy. 
I lay beneath those dark scarred trunks 
Of white, and lounged in reverie. 

I watched the colors of autumn 
Slowly replace where green should be. 
The hues revealed the steady march 
Of time, no more a mystery. 

Deep in that secret mountain glade 
The pigments were a potpourri. 
Above, I heard a rustling sound 
Of leaves, and something stirred in me. 

The leaves were changing, Fall was here, 
I felt the warmth of Summer flee. 
Watching the aspens turn, I thought 
Of love, and gave my heart to thee.

VerseDay 7-25-19

Today’s featured poet, sid sibo, is an immensely talented writer and poet, currently living and working as an environmental analyst on the western slope of the Rockies. sid shares an amazing connection to the land and is quite possibly one of the most profound poets I’ve been blessed to meet.

You can find more inspiration and writing at their website: sid sibo

Please enjoy this delicious gem.

 

Rendezvous
Rime dampens leaf crackle;
your boots lift peppered scent.
Hunt camp disappears behind
cedar bog.
Squat. Touch fungus. Listen.
Other
footsteps pause and proceed,
pause and advance and
through breathing balsam
thrusts midnight wolf, eyes
intrepid suns,
nose lifted to strange reek.
Three strides apart;
you ingest each other.
Raven calls out.
But wolf ears—steep
mountains—focus
only on mystery.
Onyx lips open to glacier grin.
Ferned plume of tail
spins past.
Ancient air pours through you
and you sink like
rain into the duff.
Wait. Lichened greenstone
on trembling tongue.
Knowledge, basaltic,
rises along your backbone.
Footsteps circle around,
returning.
Deep forest dark together,
Gold fever curious.
Exchange breaths, learning.

VerseDay 6-20-19

Good Morning!

I’m so pleased and excited to feature this stunning contribution by Jennifer Carr for your weekly dose of poetry.

Jennifer Carr lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico with her partner and two children. She is an EMT, Firefighter and Poet. When she is not working at the local hospital or firehouse, she spends way too much time (is there every enough time?) reading and writing poetry.

Her poetry has been published in print by Triumph House Poetry With a Purpose and in many anthologies. Her poetry has been published on-line most recently in the Organic Journal ‘Under the Basho’ in the Modern Haiku section.

Jennifer loves flying by her own wings and looks for any opportunity to soar to new heights. Don’t forget to follow her on Twitter @PoetryHaiku13 (https://twitter.com/Poetryhaiku13).

Jennifer can be found on Facebook as Jennifer Carr Munoz or on Instagram.

Enjoy!

 

The Map to Motherhood

Traveling on a good solid trail until a bump in the way
led me to a dangerous detour of winding twists and turns.
The route becoming more rocky – I never saw the speed limit sign
warning me to slow down so I continued speeding ahead
never realizing I was lost and alone even though I was about to crash.
Even when I came to the crossroads I still disappeared
into the shadows where thunderstorms washed away
any chance of me finding my way back home.
I stopped looking over my shoulder
as my dreams disappeared into grey skies
along with the the compass and my sense of direction
all hope seemed lost until one day a miracle happened.

green mountain
Photo by Quang Nguyen Vinh on Pexels.com

There was a ray of hope, a small ray of sunlight
beamed onto my path – I felt it and I followed it.
A heartbeat that was felt long before
his heart began to beat. He brought me somewhere
out of nowhere breaking into old lost forgotten dreams.
In a universal moment I was dancing in a different direction
towards tomorrow’s bright promise the compass that carved a new path
he was the map that led me to motherhood.
The son I would come to know as my “Milagro.”

VerseDay 6-13-19

Hello Poetry lovers…or maybe you’re just poetry dabblers. Whatever the case, and your current thoughts on the boiled-down marvel of words, here’s today’s poem. Share it, comment on it, like it or don’t.

Again, still open for submissions. I’m super excited to be featuring a beautiful poem next week from Jennifer Munoz, so stay tuned for that!

Enjoy!

 

The World on Two Legs

If you knew the tremulous

white water that thrashes

against the rocky shores in my brain

When faced with your tear-stained cheeks.

If you knew the worry, and sleepless dark,

I live in for the sake of your safety

If you knew that you were my only shore

If you knew

You my solid ground

If you knew the depths of love

The die-for-you-love

The beat-for-you

Rise-For-You

Live-for-you

Love

That arrived, right on time

with the pushing pain

The tearing and bloodied welcome

Sweaty brow, trembling thighs, weak from

40 weeks of creating

Such a miraculous being.

If you knew, If you really knew…

You’d never question how beautiful, how perfect

you are.

VerseDay 5-23-19

Enjoy today’s VerseDay and be sure to send me your poetry, essays, thoughts and musings for consideration in The Beautiful Stuff’s 2019 Poetry Anthology aptly named “No Small Things: The Beautiful Stuff Poetry Anthology 2019.

Send your work for consideration in the body of an email to: sereichert@comcast.net, with “POETRY SUBMISSION” in the Subject line, along with a brief bio and your website/promotional information.

And now this….

 

When you see me again

 

When you see me

Again

I will be much changed.

I will not be the girl you knew

I will be something

Strange and fierce.

 

The calm of sensuality

That you cannot touch

Hunger you cannot satiate

And when you see me,

You will ache to know me

But will not comprehend.

Cannot comprehend

The ways in which I have left this space

 

When you see me

You will know,

The river you cannot swim

The depth of mystery

And love

You only dipped

Fingertip

in

You cannot

Slide across my surface

or touch to feel me

anymore.

 

When you see me

I will have shed you as old skin

Left behind, pinched

between rock and ground

The ghostly outline, honeycombed in dirt

The woman who knew you

Has dropped away the shell of your empty

Affection

 

When you see me again,

You will not know me.

I will be much changed.

Strange and fierce.

An untouchable,

Incomprehensible

Ache

 

 

 

 

 

VerseDay 4-4-2019

 

 

What We Lost In The Fire

 

The favorite,

The only.

The irreplaceable

Warmth of need

Burned down to ashes

And the lies we told ourselves

To keep it from leaving

Gone.

Orange and black wisps in swirls of wind

We destructive pillars

That love

only to destroy

That shield

only to suffocate

That want

only to deny.

Fickle-hearted arsonists,

Love and burn

Cherish and consume

Better to see objects of affection destroyed

Than ever set free.

Rather let the memory burn,

an inextinguishable flame

Than free ourselves from the shackles of desire.

Never understanding,

how much of ourselves sits smoldering alongside

Until all we are

Is ash and loss.