write ’til your fingers bleed
write ’til your eyes close
’til your mind quiets
let the confusion sort itself
on the page
let anger sorrow and anxiety
fall down and break open
for when everything is out
nothing is in, and then
sleep can take you away
This poem was inspired by a picture posted on the #dimpleverse hashtag and poetry account on Twitter.
I didn’t want this to be a dark poem, I wanted it to be about hope. If you found hope in this poem, please leave me a comment below, after all, it is International Blog Delurking Week.
opening the door
not ready to face the day
slow blooming flower
Today’s prompt is “opening.” My brain is trying to go in 3,000 different directions at once, so this is the haiku you get today.
To see my haiku from last year click on the nahaiwrimo tag at the top of this post. To see all of my haiku click the haiku tag. You can also do this for Categories.
If you are like what I am writing, you can follow me on Bloglovin’ and Twitter and Facebook and Instagram.
The Dark Hours
are supposed to come
between dusk and dawn
but sometimes they
roll in early
or stay too late
like a bad house guest.
This was written for a Heart Soup prompt found on Twitter. To see more micropoetry follow me and other poets on Twitter. There are a lot of us if you look through the hashtags.
digging up roots
there is nonstop growth underground
*even during winter
*I have anxiety, it does not have me.
When I write about winter, I am writing about hard times. Whether I am speaking of: a woman’s difficulty having a child, or depression, or another season, winter equals hard in my poetry.
I know it is now Spring; I wrote this poem just last month for National Haiku Writing Month and didn’t want to wait to share it until next Winter.
The monster creeps in unnoticed
He wraps his long fingers around your arm
And you are powerless to stop the anger
You feel the bile rise in your stomach
The boiling begins
You taste it in your throat
Before you know it
The monster speaks for you
Words cutting like whips
The tears fall and last words are heard
Doors slam and silence ensues
The monster now controls you all
The phone silent mocks you
The monster joins in
He repeats words said
He keeps replaying the scene in your mind
Even as you get into bed
He assures you your words were right
So you listen to the monster
Shutting out the animal of reason
The bird of reality flies by
Years later the monster’s fingers lose grip
What were the words again
What was it that was so upsetting
Without the monster it’s hard to remember
When you stop being angry it’s hard to remember
When you pry away the grudge’s fingers
There was nothing there after all
I tried to write/format this poem to where the stanzas looked like monster fingers. What do you think??
Today’s prompt for NaBloPoMo is: If you could permanently get rid of one worry, what would it be?
Wow! That is really hard because I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder and I worry over tons of stuff every day. And I can’t help it, and I can’t make it stop. I can’t cut triggers out or avoid the problem because I get anxious over every thing that could affect me or my family. I worry about: if my trees are going to survive the winter, if I have taught my son enough social skills, about the US Economy, how I am going to get through college, are there enough missionaries in Asia, and what should I cook for dinner tonight? And that’s just what goes through my head before I drop off my son at school. If I could permanently fix my brain so that I did not worry about 1 thing ever again, I guess I would pick…. yeah I can’t pick. They all seem large and important and if I don’t worry will I ever fix everything? Will I ever be good enough? Will I ever change anything for the better if I am not concerned enough to act? If I let go of a worry like “Is my church group doing enough?” or “Do I know enough about foreign politics?” or “Whose pictures should hang in the living room?” will I be able to be a good person?
Sunlight falls into the house,
floating down from the window as if lost.
Should it really be here?
In this dusty dreary place?
The light creeps into the corners,
it stops at the couch and thinks,
thinks about traveling the hallway.
But there is only sadness down that way.
That is not a place for sun to be.
Tears flood that room and all sound is drowned out.
The sunlight recedes, backs to the window.
It slowly fades back out….
Knowing its not wanted in that dreary place.
Today is World Mental Health Day. Here is a link to last year’s post with numbers you can call if your mind is overwhelming you.
Life shouldn’t be this hard
I wonder if that is what the worm says
As he shuts himself away from the world
Only to get bored while stewing in solitude
He has to struggle then
To come back to the world
But his wings, once unfolded
Are beautiful for the struggle
If you look very closely you can see that this butterfly just came out of it’s cocoon.