Poetry Roundup

Past Routines and Spontaneous Inspirations

As you may remember, I stepped back from my weekly routine of poetry writing prompts on Instagram. I really loved pushing myself to write and share in a new way, but felt that it took energy away from bigger projects. Most of these are from a time before I recalibrated, but there are a few that have trickled in as inspiration hit.

Thanks for being here for the steady flow and irregular drips,

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You can find the original here.

01.02.25

This time of the year is sodden with hope. How could it not be? Fresh starts feel like the right place to affix our wildest dreams and idealized selves.

But inevitably, life creeps in — the resolutions are broken and plans are altered. It's disheartening, at least for me, to realize that the calendar pages flipping doesn't change all that much. In those moments, I like to remember that the spark which inspired me to dream is still there, however faint. That it will return is enough and what I thought of while writing my response to this week's poetry prompt, "Ephemeral Echoes".

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You can find the original here.

01.09.25

The fires in California have been weighing on me. I’m embarrassed to admit it since I have no right to the feeling. Not only because I am safe when so many are not, but because every natural disaster should weigh on me like this. They should weigh on us all. But they don’t. Their constant presence has made me, and maybe all of us, numb to the reality of a quickly unraveling ecology. So, though I have no right to it, my heart is heavy lately with the destruction and all we have done to cause it.

I couldn’t escape that weight when I sat down to write my response to this week’s poetry prompt, “Shattered Mirror.” I took the photo accompanying my poem of Oregon sky Tuesday night when California was burning.

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You can find the original here.

01.14.25

I realized too late that this week's poetry prompt requested that all responses be in tanka format. Alas, I spent my lunch hour writing this delinquent poem instead.

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You can find the original here.

01.22.25

This week writers were encouraged to get sensual with their poetry prompt, Shadow and Skin. For me, the most beautiful and intimate parts of a person are their contradictions. Riding that line between the sides of yourself or another is where the magic happens, don't you think?

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You can find the original here.

01.29.25

Thoughts on January stargazing in response to the weekly poetry prompt, "River of Stars."

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You can find the original here.

02.20.25

And you’re still here, listening.

I said this poem’s title to a dear friend after their doom scrolling led to spiraling. It kicked around in my head for weeks after. Then one morning, the rest of this poem came to me.

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You can find the original here.

02.26.25

Stopped mid-run to write this one.

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Fresh Water

Take me back to the river, 
with its smooth stone bed
that I luxuriated in so long 
I can still feel rocks 
pressed into my skin. 
Take me back 
to the rushing water 
That matched the pace 
of the blood in my veins 
that was loud enough to cover doubt 
but quiet enough to hear 
my own gasped breath. 
Take me back to a time 
when summer warmed my skin
When I hadn’t yet decided, 
when life was filled with only
water, stone and possibility

03.14.25

I shared this poem as a video. If you’d like to listen to me read it, you can find that here.

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03.28.25

I am still taken aback by the presence of nature in the liminal space of the suburbs. I grew up in an urban environment, where a run-in with a coyote was out of the question. Maybe that's why it feels so magical when it happens to me now; a brushing of the wild in a place of conformity.

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If you’re reading this, wow, thank you. You made it all the way through an absolute onslaught of poetry. For that I’m grateful.

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