Jul 21

Blue Window Lady

I was not able to find the creator of this image. I recieved the image from an organizer at the NEYWC.

This is an Ekphrastic poem written with one line from each of the 10 members of Team Pancake. Team Pancake was a writer's group at the 2017 NEYWC. I was lucky enough to be a part of Team Pancake.
Team Pancake: Katrina, Clay, Jasmine, Emilia, Sage,  Jeremiah, Em, Karina, & myself.

Blue Window Lady

Everything is upright except for a woman bent at the back peering out the window.

If she closes her eyes, shuts her ears, maybe she could taste the wind. Maybe she could forget the plates, clothes, and man.

In her peach pink dress, she hears silence knocking.

Why wear your hair up? Give yourself a break.

It's maybe 4 PM but you can tell the hour's passing slowly, dripping through as the midday does.
Jul 21

Ekphrastic Poem 5/18/17

I was not able to find the creator of this image. I recieved the image from an organizer at the NEYWC.

NEYWC 2017-- Ekphrastic Poem with Team Pancake

Shade next to sunlight and edges of siding, grass, and pines.

Peaking just around the window frame, the lamp and its shade match the fiery field.

It is the afternoon, just before the sun sinks below the hills.

He wonders why her eyes stare so eagerly towards the sun.

Violent gusts of wind bully the branches, warping and twisting them in all directions.

Claire. Her name is Claire.

Claire can feel the warmth of the sun radiating off the rusted grass, and reflecting onto the wall behind her.

And, just before, she had run to the window.

Her pulse strengthening with every repetition, Claire felt more alive in the sun.

Shade next to sunlight and edges of siding, grass, and pines.
Jul 21
poem 1 comment challenge: Milk


The milk spilled and the barn cats came running. Not just the usual two or three who turn up at milking time for a squirt from the udder, but all forty seven of them. You know how cats walk silently and are so talented at sneaking up on things? Well, it turns out that forty seven cats racing all at once towards a single pail of spilt milk sound just the same silent way. And so, when the milk spilled and the barn cats came running, no one heard them.

The pail was full right up to the brim and a fly buzzing by had paused to soak up the sun on the shiny rim. Somehow, that little black fly had landed and placed its weight just right to tip over the pail of foamy, warm, fresh-from-the-cow milk.

to be continued
Jul 20

Blueberry Poem (for 7/19/17)

(The audio recording is of the last two stanzas which I recorded while picking blueberries. If you listen closely, you might be able to hear the pie tins and birds.)

Blueberry Poem

Follow the shade in the morning for as long as you can,
Hopping down the row, down the hill, from bush to bush.
The way the sunlight falls through the hedgerow and the trees above it
Leaves some shady splotches and then some sun-soaked bits.

In the morning, if you follow the shade you'll stay cooler.
And you'll spend less time bent over picking in the sun
With your shirt climbing up your back,
Leaving your lower back exposed.

The blueberry patch is a battle field this morning.
The birds have pecked away at least half the berries on the first bush, the second bush.
I continue down the hill to the third bush and then decide that following the shade is a better idea.
And so I jump several bushes down.
Jul 18

Searching Eyes

Alone on the beach, she watched the waves and longed for their salty kisses on her bare feet. The woman wore a deep blue dress of soft, flowing cotton. Her bright eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses and her chin rested on the top of her closed hand. Her elbow pressed into the arm of her chair. The woman's feet rested upon the sand, the criss-crossing pattern from her vacant sandals burned onto the tops of her feet in tan. Just the natural tan from spending so much time outdoors. It was not a tan the woman had worked or paid for. It was one that grew as she soaked up the sun on hikes and inhaled cool, sea-sprayed air on the coast.

The woman's hands were home to several rings, silver and light gold ones that she'd worn since high school. On her wrist, a light gold rimmed watch on a small white leather band-- also worn since her teenage years.
Jul 09

You! Twelve Days Later, Seven Days Since Departure

Jul 09

Oh, What a Wonderful Wedding

Oh, what a wonderful wedding. There was even a cake. Who knew there was cake at weddings? Ridiculous! And it had seven layers. That cake was so dang tall that they used a step ladder to reach the top and a machete to cut it. Better yet, that cake was strawberry with bright green insides just to mess with you and catch the eater off guard. Green cake, I ain't never seen a cake so green. The crumbs fell across the floor like grass had started growing in the kitchen. But, the crucial part was that the cake had a crumb, and a good one at that. A good crumb, of course, is the most important part of the cake. But, the cake wasn't the only thing at the wedding. Even if it was the brightest green anyone had ever seen. There were guests too. And a couple. You know, those two people who are the ones getting married. They're important. You can't have the wedding without them. Unless some of the guests volunteer to be married to each other. Then you could have a wedding.
Jul 01

You! Four Days Later

They shipped us. Five or six different people have. Apparently the first "ship"ment happened on Sunday, the second day.

You think it's funny. I do too. We are siblings.

I am your big sister. You are my bigger brother. Sometimes I am also your mother.

Boop. Boop the shnoop. Boop the shnoop.

You and your jazz. It's great jazz. Please play more.

It's my truck. No, it is MY truck. Mine.

The grapes are grape. It's a Jack!...in-the-box. I cannot believe I do not remember another of your puns.

Your ears are sooooo small! I am a little person. Your hands are so cool!

You still look at me so earnestly
your eyes are still wide and bright.
Your smile still spreads across your face
and offers me endless delight. Boop.


Jun 26


You look at me so earnestly
your eyes are wide and bright.
Your smile spreads across your face
and offers me delight.

Stories of your grandmother,
the 194 cookies she had baked
your time spent in the lighting booth
the planning documents you make.

Your shirts are always made of lines
horizontal ones
three colors, only and primary too
white, or red, yellow, and blue.

Your name could have been
a long and intricately elegant Italian one, you say
yet, you like to sounds of s at the end of Adams
and so you aren't too disappointed your name is not the other way.

You told me the story of the crazy history teacher
and her vicarious lessons
and how she does such shocking things
as make you reenact rescissions.

You are my new friend! but forgive me,
as you would make me say,
"I am your new 'give' friend"
Jun 22


She couldn't tell what he was thinking when he left. When he turned his back and just walked away. She wasn't really confused, but she certainly wasn't certain. She really had never expected him to leave. Just, to leave. Leave her there, with her two children, one on each shoulder. She had expected a fight. She had built up strength, anticipating the petty arguments with thick blood. Preparing for sharp words, lies, and stabbing accusations, with her steely, deep blue eyes that never quivered to show what was inside. She had predicted the ruthless fight he would put up to keep "his" children, with her mature, durable skin to keep her flesh safe from his fingernails. He left. And she was left, with her thick skin, her steady eyes, her viscous blood, and her two children, resting on her firm but uncertain shoulders.