I introduced myselfnapo2014button1

and offered you

a rose

a red, red rose

the color of my heart

I offered

cotton candy words

and bitter coffee

tinged with cream


You graciously accepted


Now I must

step away

for the heart

does grow

somewhat fonder

with absence


I will not forget

your sweetness

your voice that

brightened my day

your touch

of comfort


I am


because of



I will not

disappoint you

on my travels

far, far away


In my heart

I carry

that red, red rose


just petals





Author’s Note:

Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo: A goodbye poem.

I did it!

30 poems in 30 days!

Thank you NaPoWriMo for the challenge.

I  vow to keep up writing everyday and posting several times a week, maybe more.

She Loved Him Bae

It is raining butterflies.napo2014button1
They will land on my tongue.
I will taste their sweet nectar from blooms newly visited.
I will feel their flutter against my lips.
I will see their colors as if in a kaleidoscope I make my nest.
I will smell summer’s new morning upon their breath.
I will hear their sucking deep into my throat.
When once again they alight, their raucous beating wings
will leave me hungry for more.
In time, Magdalene will turn from her tears and rise
to the sea.
With the bitter nectar stinging her tongue
she will stay to tell of her loss.
She loved him bae.
If the butterflies were to stay
I would lose my mind.
Mariposa, estas ahi?




Author’s Note:

Used the prompt today from NaPoWriMo, Twenty Little Poetry Projects, but didn’t make it to twenty. Stopped at ten.

I was also influence by Frederico Garcia Lorca’s Mariposa. Here is my favorite reading.

On The Sunday After Easter

The rosy bud offered such promise.
But at the tip of the branch
where one is most vulnerable
there is little protection from
icy wind in early spring
that takes you almost by surprise.

When rain begins, only drops at first,
then drizzle, and finally downpour,
delicate leaves no longer able to grasp
the sprig tumble to the ground sinking
mud deep, too far away to be rescued.

The bud, once a life promised,
let go to the pummeling wind,
no longer able to wait for the sun.
He took his life of thirteen years
on the Sunday after Easter.




Author’s Note:

God bless you, little one.

I Am Cold

I can hardly keep my eyes opennapo2014button1

I hear the wind
as if in a far tinned tunnel
voicing its distraction

I can’t answer questions
step onto the platform
I have no answers

I am cold

I am going to take a nap
under a soft blanket
and when I awake maybe
I will have felt your warm breath
and know

I am dream

I walk the labyrinth
hedged by clean scented lavender
my step takes me back
upon itself
weaving round and around
and back again
as I step nearer
to your sweet  invitation

I long as each curve bends
my step closer
to your whisper
curving me
back to reflection
circling close
to what seems the beginning
a start over
yet drawing me nearer

I reach for your hand
to hold me near
but I know
this is my journey alone

I keep hope you are there




Author’s Note:

From NaPoWriMo Day 27: And now for our prompt! Our early-bird prompt this year (on March 31) was an ekphrastic poem. This is something similar — a poem written from a photograph. There are four below, one of which I hope will catch your fancy. But if you’ve a particular photo in mind that you’d like to use, go right ahead. Happy writing!


Lines and Patterns

I grabnapo2014button1
reach for straws
try to find a place
to fit in

Hands pretend
to care
but lines are thrown
out on their terms

I look
for somewhere
I can slip into a

Where I can be part
of a weaving
formed into one

There are signs
that I may be allowed
to stay

But only
within the
box of their own
design and
not allowed
to color
outside the line

Trust must be
given away
meted out
and not with
too much hope

It is better
to build

your own brick
where doors
can be locked

and windows
safer to be alone

than teased
into thinking
you are worthy




Author’s Note:

Day 26 – NaPoWriMo – almost there.

Part of Me

Part of me has been erasednapo2014button1
as I walk bare foot in the sand.

The place where my heart once
stationed itself, that
part of me has been erased.

Silence barrels through
that part of me that is now gone.

That part of me that is now gone
feels no more.

That part of me
no longer yearns or waits.

It no longer dreams,
that part of me.

That part
has been erased.




Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo’s Day 25 (optional) prompt. Anaphora is a literary term for the practice of repeating certain words or phrases at the beginning of multiple clauses or, in the case of a poem, multiple lines. The phrase “A time to,” as used in the third Chapter of Ecclesiastes, is a good example of anaphora. But you don’t have to be the Old Testament (or a Byrds song) to use anaphora. Allen Ginsberg used it in Howl, for example. Thispost by Rebecca Hazelton on the Poetry Foundation’s blog gives other great examples of anaphora in action, from Martin Luther King Jr’s “I Have a Dream” speech to Homer Simpson. So today, I challenge you to write a poem that uses anaphora. Find a phrase, and stick with it — learn how far it can go. Happy writing!

Walk With Me In the Rain

Walk with me in the rain.napo2014button1
Let’s not take an umbrella
to shade us from the pleasure.
But take my hand in yours.

Underneath the street lamp
let the rain steal a sweet kiss
on our cheeks.

Oh, we will get wet.

Hold me around my waist
pulling me close to keep
me warm in this crazy spring
rain that doesn’t know
if drops or flakes it will be.

Like us,
unsure of who we are,
let the rain fall as it is
without an umbrella to hide us.




Author’s Note:

It rained last night, the first big rain of spring. A little mushy hail. A bit of lightening and some thunder.

I, too, like Langston Hughes, love April rain.