Poem #32

red
red like cherries
sweet marashino cherries
atop a sundae
toes
stay hidden
beneath layers thick
of stockings and boots
waiting their turn
patiently
patiently
through the long winter

Poem #31

Thinking thoughts
writing words
am I only cannabalizing
thoughts
I already had
words I already wrote
Am I nature's girl,
recycling
ever-recycling
but never really creating
anything new?

Poem #30

Go to sleep,
sleep
a destination
a place to wind up
such a lovely place
usually
except when the brain interferes
why must the brain
have a say
it is sleep
sleep brain
just turn off
for once
monitor heartrate
keep kidneys functioning
but let me rest
let me go to sleep
sleep a destination
brain a roadblock

Poem #29

Homemade soup
for cold days
chicken with dumplings
permeates the house
and smells like grandpa's house
where there was always food cooking
Sunday morning crepes and sausage
that I could never hope to make
at home
but the promise of which
would rouse me from slumber
to head to grandpa's house
oh, grandpa's house
and holidays
always the smell of food
always always
and I try to see grandma there
but I can't reach her
she is as gone to me
as the smells are to the house
quiet house
no cooking
and I can't even think
about going back inside

Poem #28

Finding comfort
in the smooth hollows
of the body
I know well
large hands rough from working
fit into my hands
smaller, smoother
an intricate puzzle
we are always able
to solve

Finding comfort
in the softness
of purple sheets
comfort upon comfort
in happy places

Finding comfort
in places so comfortable
and familiar
stepping back often enough
so as to never
take the comfort
for granted

Poem #27

I am bereft of poetry,
can't make the words
ballet on the page
can't imagine a single image

I am poetry-light,
creativity stolen
or fallen away
like change
from a pocket

where once there were
shiny half-dollars
of metaphors
and symmetry
now there
is only lint

Poem #26

Make me
Make me please
Make me into
someone pleasing

But there is no making
no shaping now
there is just me
making
making
what I can

Poem #25

No horrors
like the horror of the night
lost in the woods
crying driving
circle after circle
passing road
after road
familiar and unfamiliar
all leading nowhere
and everywhere at once

orange cone nightmare
narrow lanes
closed lanes
road blocks and exits
that never lead
where she needs to go
all taking her
further from home

Poem #24

Certain that it is over,
done
that certainty that creeps inside
and knows, just knows
as you know
that any film
featuring music by The Doors
means that a Vietnam War
scene is soon to follow
Over.
Done
and that hollowed-out feeling
will eventually be filled back in
but not today.
Today it is over.

Poem #23

We the sweater clad
in cubicle islands
stay afloat during the rainy season
(midwestern monsoons)
by relating
talking
being
huddled around one another
for the warmth
of friends

Poem #22

Researching
the history of me
through photos of me,
of them,
the them that made me
staring into faces
and knowing
knowing
I don't know you.
You don't know me.
But you are me,
parts of me.
Which of you
brought me this curiosity,
this need to know
and explore
and do?
Which of you
ruminated on brain chemistry
and felt certain
your brain
was different
like my brain is different
all creative and crazy?
Which of you
photographed strangers
in my blood line?
Or is that all mine?

Poem #21

I wanted to wrap you
in rainbow-soft
words of contrition
but I can't

the words elude me
and the sentiment
is false

I wanted to cradle you
within an apology
but they were just words
just words
just words
and the bottom fell out
as it does,
as it always does
and suddenly
I can't say the sorry words,
can't feel sorry

Poem #20

I awoke this morning
with a dull ache
that permeated
Typical, I snickered.
Even my pain
is dull.

Poem #19

You called me
horrid names
like misanthropist
and such

And I'd be crushed
if I didn't
hate you people
so damn much

Poem #18

No one cries
at Chuck E. Cheese
land of eternal happiness
for screaming children
raining tokens
everywhere

No one cries
at Chuck E. Cheese
animatronic band
singing cheerful songs
as children
eat sausage pizza
and Spiderman birthday cake

No one cries
at Chuck E. Cheese
Certainly not kindergarteners
enjoying their first playdate
out of school
chasing one another through endless tunnels
while the adults look on, smiling

No, no one cries
at Chuck E. Cheese
certainly not an adult
who stands with other adults
who talk amongst themselves
somehow forgetting
the awkward redhead
in the black skirt
who doesn't cry
because no one cries
at Chuck E. Cheese

Poem #17

words like gremlins hide
just beyond reach
creating chaos
in the spaces
of my brain
hidden in crevices
like crumbs
fallen beneath the oven
stubbornly out of reach

the gremlins steal my words
steal my thoughts
and taunt me
never letting me touch
the words I really need

Poem #16

Fall into fall,
into cold
that settles
into your bones

fall into dreariness,
never-ending days
as dark as night
where rain falls
falls falls falls
every moment of fall

fall into fall
but don't expect
anything
to cushion
that fall

Poem #15

I won't be long,
I promised
when all along
I meant
I won't belong

but then we talk
sharing secrets and confidences
in brief exchanges
wondering whether
creativity is actually
a form of mental illness

and we both decide
that, perhaps it is
but we both worry
that we're ill
we remember that we worry
and that if we were ill
we wouldn't worry
wouldn't know
of our own craziness
and take comfort
and somehow
we belong
if only for a moment
to ourselves

Poem #14

If success
is simply
failing to fail
then I am completely,
totally,
half-way there.

Poem #13

I ran off into the bathroom,
for sanctuary
against wrestling munchkins
whirling Tazmanian devils
leaving overturned furniture
in their wake

In the shower,
all should be quiet
solitude
but I was sharing the shower
with godzilla
and a truck
and three tiny basketballs

and I pushed them aside,
away from my hot spray of water
until munchkins and devils
needed them before bed

Poem #12

It is the dawning
of the age of Aquarias
when the cold comes,
permeating the house
my skin,
my bones
and nothing
oh nothing will warm me
but the hot water
bath after bath
soaking into oblivion
during the bluster,
the wretched darkness
outside
that spawns within
the age of Aquarias

Poem #11

Not royalty,
but spread out
on royal purple soft sheets
queen sized bed
beneath your tiny form
fevered head
resting upon my pillow
and I wouldn't wake you for anything
Spread over the bed
are Jedi knights,
casualties of the war
they fought as you lay down,
resting
until sleep overcame your tiny body
All around you are remnants
of half-eaten crackers
ground into the soft purple sheets
but I wouldn't curse them
not a single Jedi,
not a single crumb
across my royal purple sheets

Poem #10

Across the parking lot
we walk,
hand in tiny hand
dodging rain drops
and eager parents
in shiny minivans

His oversized
GI Joe back pack
slung over his shoulder
his step eager
his smile wide

We walk toward
matriculation
we walk toward
his future

And when I let go of his hand
for him to walk inside
one of us cries

Poem #9

Standing on the stage
overlooking the crowd
and I smile,
a small smile
knowing what they want
but wanting to make them wait
loving and needing
the low hum
that begins

a sea of cell phone
latter-day lighters
in the dark room

the crowd chants
those two words
I know are coming

And I close my eyes
listening, just listening
and preparing myself
as the crowd chants
"free verse free verse"

Poem #8

Sully learned a new word;
he says it every day.
He says it during meal times.
He says it during play.

He says it to his father.
He says it to his brother.
He says it to the family cat.
He says it to his mother.

Sully learned a new word.
And yes, I think that's fine
But what a word, oh, this word:
Oh, enemy! "Mine!"


Yes, a poem about the spawn. There will likely be more. This is the junior spawn, a nearly two year old who has discovered the pleasures of "Mine!!!" He says lots of other things, but this is his favorite at the moment.

And it is a rhyming poem. So much for free verse.

And now I have the idea for my next poem already.

Poem #7

I fear that someday soon
I'll have to visit them
in museums,
observe them in cages
Brainy girls
with spectacles
smart chicks
reading heavy books
containing multi-syllabic words
Intellectuals
protected by thick glass
to keep them from extinction
They're so beautiful
in natural habitats
so beautiful, all
with their heady brilliance
I couldn't bear
to see them caged

Poem#6

And this, kids, is why Kimberly doesn't try her hand at rhyming poems.

What if Medusa
tried to seduce you?
What if she sighed
and looked in your eyes?
Would you play with her asp-y hair
or would you be too stoned to care?

Poem #5

I am living on Writer's Block
no distractions
or ideas here
a quiet neighborhood
undisturbed
unrelentless
peace and quiet

I am living on Writer's Block
desperate for some interaction
with characters
or plots
I would settle
for stumbling on creative word play
lying about on the sidewalk

But here in Writer's Block
such things don't exist
it is an exclusive neighborhood
and today it seems
too exclusive
for Writer's Block
is a party of one

Poem #4

Today my dad and stepmom came down and painted our bedroom while Jeff and I "helped" and kept the boys from touching the paint. I love the new look.

Brush strokes
on the bedroom walls
all painted now
no hint of mint
the sky of spring equinox
long ago eclipsed
by summer and now fall
fall into darkness
and wetness
outside
but inside,
inside my room
spring blue skies

Poem #3

Just three poems in and I find that the poems are now arriving in my head fully formed, just like they did in the past when I poemed every day! They may not be brilliant, but they are flowing so I am taking advantage of that while I can.

I am living
in a Star Wars universe
surrounded by
Storm Troopers
and Han Solos
(or is that Han Plurals?)
and I am Yoda,
short
and possessing great wisdom
but unable to
fully articulate it.


Perhaps inspired by the fact that I have now seen every Star Wars film repeatedly (thanks to Jude, who has become a creepy little Star Wars savant). Regardless, this poem experiment is fun.

Poem #2

A haunted breakfast
Count Chocula darkening
my breakfast bowl
chocolate-shaped bats
like tiny Pac Man ghosts
reminding me of a time
when everything was sweet

Poem #1

So here goes a first attempt. They'll all likely be free form; I'm not much into rhyming poems, though I may change my mind at some point over the next 100 days!

Trying to make it just right
just write
when once it flowed freely
now forced somehow
is it inside
just blocked somehow
or is it gone?

maybe the muscles have atrophied
from years of neglect
it doesn't seem right
it doesn't seem write
but write
just write
and maybe
in the end
it will be
just right

That's it. No editing. Just wrote what was in my head. Not a great first attempt, but I have plenty of days ahead to redeem myself.