Poetry Round Up

Perhaps by now you’ve noticed my tendency to share quickly scrawled (and sometimes recorded) poetry on Instagram, rather than here. I’m not sure how the habit developed, but I’m enjoying it nonetheless. Still, when a big enough pile of poems piles up over there I feel the need to put them all together somewhere. Thank you for allowing me a space to do it.

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Ferried Away

Forever wasn’t too long.
Not with you.

The boat took you
Away from us.

I would’ve given you
All my tomorrows.

Now I’m left with
Only cerulean spray.

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The process for writing this poem was inspired by

Zack Albertini

and his weekly ritual of letting a roll of the dice determine his poem’s structure. On this particular week I decided to join in the fun. If you want to also, you can find instructions here. Thanks for the awesome idea, Zack!

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Emotional Anatomy

I keep sadness in my sternum.
If you crack me open
you will find a small box 
curved along my diaphragm.
Some days it holds so much
I cannot breathe under its weight.
But, if you were to call
I would whisper hello and
and eek out an ounce of anguish.
If you told me a story,
I would likely laugh
and empty the box entirely.
Because while sadness lives
within my ribs,
I hold joy in the curve of my lips. 

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I have long been fascinated by the ways we use language to attach emotion to parts of the body. His heart was broken. She knew it in her gut. Their head was spinning. I wrote this poem to share where a few of my feelings live.

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My Real World

I can no longer tell the difference
Between the world I imagined 
And the one I have made.
The line that separates possible
From probable is gone.
In its place is only a woman
Saturated with stories
Of other versions of me
That all fight to be the one
Whose world is real.

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Sirena over at Mermaid Reveries regularly posts poetry prompts. I don’t often do them, but this particular prompt was right in line with what I’d already been ruminating on over my coffee. I typed this into my phone while I sipped and liked it enough to share.

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The Bravest You Can Be

Be brave
she said to him 
in the low light of a Sunday.
 
Be brave 
she said it again 
to make sure he heard.
That’s how badly
she wanted him to be free.

It echoed for days 
before he leapt.
His courage unfurling 
like resplendent wings.

She was proud, 
but knew there was more 
so she told him again,
Be brave.

Then she watched 
in delighted awe 
at what he was becoming
because he let himself try.

She observed from the safety 
of her own insecurity 
as he flew away into being 
fully realized version 
of the person she saw 
beneath his fear.

As the bravest person 
he can be.

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Grey Coven Publishing shares new poetry prompts each month. One of June’s was “The Bravest You Can Be.” When I reflected on that idea, I thought of how sometimes even the most incredible people need support to be brave. This poem is told from the perspective of that support person, nudging another to bravery and their immense joy at seeing their loved one soar.

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