Archive

NaPoWriMo

survival

lost in the deep dark
of this forest, the children wander
cold, hungry, scared
their cell phones don’t work here
they search their memories
is it the north, or the south
side of trees that moss grows on
they know, from watching man vs. wild
that they should try to find water
but all they hear are the chirps of birds
a black-tailed deer darts across their path
they chase after it, hoping
and then they see the cottage
her cottage, the one
made of candy.

medium_6586800583

photo credit: VinothChandar via photopin cc

Advertisements

Hawaii

I remember the sun
setting over the deep blue Pacific,
burnt orange and red hues
illuminating the palm-tree-lined sky.

I remember the feeling
of sand between my toes,
the humid tropical air,
the weightlessness of my body
floating in salt water,
and the sharp coral cutting
my hipbone.

I remember us together
watching turtles bob back and forth
amidst the waves, as if time
did not exist.

IMG_0062

Dream Big

When God lights you up,
pray big prayers.
Imagine what God can do,
as He illuminates the darkness
through your life.
God and His kingdom are here
and they’re breaking in.

 

This is a found poem, based on my notes from a sermon podcast I listened to this morning by Imago Dei’s Rick McKinley. I opened my journal to start working on today’s poem, and then I saw these notes and it seemed that the poem had written itself!

 

 

Who is the me that writes? (A Noir-ish Poem for Day 9)

The rain is falling oh so fast
and it feels like time is slipping past
‘cuz my reflection in the looking glass
keeps changing

who is the me that writes these words?
a mother, daughter, wife
& are you friend or foe?
i never know
who to trust on the roads of life

beware the ides of march, they say
but what of april late?
who knows what chaos will ensue
when we’re driven to create

 

 

Itty Bitty was a cat
the likes you’ve never seen
her tubby body was so fat
she’d never be a beauty queen
one day I saw her catch a rat
and play with it, that fiend —
her temperament had seemed so sweet
but if she could, it’s me she’d eat

 

Author’s Note: This is my attempt at today’s NaPoWriMo prompt for an ottava rima poem. My apologies to Itty Bitty, who was generally a very nice cat, and lived a long life for a kitty.