Conception

I know when my bare feet napofeature3
touch morning grass
teardrops of early dawn
wash me of my sorrows

I know when I inhale
sweet summer air
I rest on obscurity high
above my anxious days

I know when I touch lips
that also know emptiness
I entwine myself with you
to stitch closed the desperate chasm

I know when I hear
evening coyotes call
in search of vanquished prairie
I walk the night in kinship

I know you whisper my name
I wild myself in your conception

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 20

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge to write a poem that states the things you know. For example, “The sky is blue” or “Pizza is my favorite food” or “The world’s smallest squid is Parateuthis tunicata. Each line can be a separate statement, or you can run them together. The things you “know” of course, might be facts, or they might be a little bit more like beliefs. Hopefully, this prompt will let your poem be grounded in specific facts, while also providing room for more abstract themes and ideas.”

Chicken in the Kitchen

I always prayed to Mother Mary and Therese,napofeature3
the little flower, the saint caught nighttitde
eating chicken in the kitchen.

Father God was too busy for me, too stern
and austere. Jesus, more approachable,
but needed more desperately by others.

So I prayed to the women
who swept floors and cooked meals,
ones who nursed and cradled the child.

They would intercede for me.
They would know when to speak,
use good words, not too many or too few.

They were the ones who lived everyday
life. They knew what it was like to be me,
craving compassion and food, brave or weak.

Now that I’m old and held up the mirror
I see how really close you are.
Not a man on cloud with a book and a quill

but me in your image so near.
I throw away the quaver and piles of debris,
leave a space wide open for us.

I carry my wounds not in shame or regret
but in kinship with you, Elder Brother,
and with you, Faithful Creator,
altogether we are One.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 19

Today the story of the Road to Emmaus and the question of why was it that it took seeing the wounds to make the disciples believers, inspired today’s poem. Also, a discussion after Mass as to what does it mean to be “Catholic” and some discussion of intercessory prayers thrown in. Along with the most powerful quote I use in The Magdalene: I will know that he is in his Father, I am in him, and he is in me.” Quite a mixed bag today.

No Emoticon

I feel better today. Yay! napofeature3
For those of you who don’t know
I take steps today
They just keep coming
…can almost reach..
I think they cheat
No words. No emoticon
READ

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 18. Stepping back a day to Day 17‘s prompt because I was inspired and wanted to see what would happen.

Yesterday’s prompt was to write a poem about social media. Shawn L. Bird was the featured poet. She wrote a found poem using current statuses from her Facebook friends.

I follow in her footsteps. What fun!

Thank you to Joni, Annette, Kurt S.L., Tiana, Lindsy, Kurt L. and Erin for writing my poem. :)

Giant

A giant lives insidenapofeature3
not a snot dribbling ogre
or a beanstalk climber

A giant lives inside
to be bigger than I
can possible be

A giant lives inside
burning a light so hot
night is safe and warm

A giant lives inside
with compassion so wide
I have room to ground

and praise as others
birth their giant
who lives inside

That is why
the Giant
lives inside

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 17. I’m catching up.

I was there when they came

There were no lights in the roomnapofeature3
to make him wince, the glow
from the hallway gave us light

We kept the heat on through
an unseasonable January warmth,
he didn’t like to be bound up in blankets

In the quiet still night he lifted his arm,
the right one he still could move,
the left at rest from the stroke

He pointed toward the wall
I asked what I could do,
perhaps another pill for the pain

He nodded, though not at me,
his lips in conversation, then his
arm moved slightly to the right

I was there when they came

His lips continued arm moving again,
once more with a final nod,
an acknowledgement ending their stay

With a sigh his arm dropped
he turned his head toward me,
eyes closed, finally he slept

I thanked them for coming
and attending his journey
I’m glad I was there when they came

He left me the next day while I was away
I wish I was there when he finally let go
but he didn’t want to hear our goodbyes

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 16. I’m a day late and will catch up tomorrow.

Apportioning

You emerge on thenapofeature3
white glow-screen. Black array, shapes
clattering from my

fingertips, apportioning
bits of my marrow each time.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 15

Tax day. Extension. Rehearsal. Equals tired.

Today’s prompt: And now for our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge you to write a poem that addresses itself or some aspect of its self (i.e. “Dear Poem,” or “what are my quatrains up to?”; “Couplet, come with me . . .”) This might seem a little meta at first, or even kind of cheesy. But it can be a great way of interrogating (or at least, asking polite questions) of your own writing process and the motivations you have for writing, and the motivations you ascribe to your readers.

Consecrated Welcome

On stepsnapofeature3
enfolded in night
under a moon
almost faded away
into nothingness
I listen

The roar
of Smoky Hill Road
rises and falls

Wind before the storm
swirls a balero
swayed branches
in spring burgeon

I wait
in stillness
not in chaos outside
but a hush within

I leave space
for you
not empty from
a holy goodbye

I open my ribs
deep in breath
a consecrated welcome

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 14

Today I combined, somewhat, the prompt of writing a dialogue between myself and my soul with the Every Day Poems‘ challenge of using a line from the daily poem that arrives in my inbox each morning.

Today’s line – a holy goodbye – is from the poem On Music by — Rainer Maria Rilke, from Selected Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke, trans. Robert Bly.