She stood

naked and dripping

tiny pools puddling on the floor

Searching,

her eyes tracing

every curve and outline

lingering over freckles

noting the color

of her hair

her lips

her eyes

the mole

on her cheek

her shoulder

her side

The curve

of her breasts

The rise

of her hips

The swell

of her belly

She wanted

to turn

to clothe

to cover

but forced herself

to stand

to stare

to see

Willing herself

to love

the woman

looking back at her

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

She dug her toes

into the cool wet sand

the tide pooling

round her ankles

A seagull’s call

from overhead

The blistering sun

falling

Eyes fixed

She watched the horizon

and waited

for an answer

Perhaps upon the wind

But only silence blew through her hair

as the waves pulled the ground

from under

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

They sat in silence

Across the kitchen table

A mile of mahogany

and should-haves between them.

She watched his finger

tap the tree

mindlessly.

He did all he could

to avoid her eyes,

until the silence

became too deafening.

And then they stood.

And walked away.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Loneliness is perhaps the worst feeling in the world,

That the solitary sphere you inhabit

is so vacuous that the inevitability of folding in on oneself

is certain.

Or perhaps it is insignificance.

The thought that the world

would go on without so much as a ripple

if your drop

in the bucket

never

fell.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Coy flirtation

Sidelong glace

Brush of skin

Wisp of hair

Head falls back

Pounding drum

And there he rests

Like honey on her tongue

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

You’re not you

And I’m not me

Which makes this all the better

I press against the wall

And you eagerly follow

Landing right

where I want you to.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

I write

I scratch

I hit the wall

I toss

I freeze

I feel the fall

Deeper into darkness

Can’t see

Can’t find

One semblance of thought

Crawling

Bloody kneed

Feeling for the door

That leads to the world

where words exist

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

I haven’t done that in a while.

It seems,

at times,

that

I forget to breathe.

But here,

I breathe.

Here.

I breathe.

Over again, from under,

until I don’t think to think about it.

As the lazy waves roll in

roll out

and my breath,

holding hands with my soul,

floats into cadence.

Suspended in silence.

Buoyed by water.

I close my eyes.

And

breathe.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is.

I thought if I ran hard enough

I’d get to where you are.

I thought if I prayed long enough

What I wanted wasn’t far.

But today I run to get away

And force my heart to numb.

I pray that I’ll forget your voice

And where my world came from.

Cause you’re the one who woke my life

From the sleep of dark distrust.

For years you’ve touched my eyes with light

Building hope out of my dust.

But now I want my bricks back please -

Each one you took, I gave.

I need them once again to hide,

Convince my heart it’s brave.

She fits in ways I never did -

A fact I want to hate.

But tonight I have no room for that,

My flood pushed past my gate.

Cause somewhere deep in shadows still -

A thought without a face

Was holding on without a word

Keeping hopes that I’d erased.

How many times I told myself

And all of those around,

I’m done, I’m through, and I believed

My lie I gave to sound.

But three days I’ve walked with swollen eyes.

Three days with tear-stained hands.

I’m void of word yet filled with thought -

Be strong. It’s fine. Just stand.

And I know it’s fine,

And I am strong -

Another lie I ache to see.

But I didn’t know until today …

That I always thought we’d be.

So run, I will, another mile,

And I’ll stay upon my knees.

I’ll tell myself it’s done –

I’m fine.

And lie till I believe.

_______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. So 29 poems it is. Except tonight I cheated. I went to see my brother-in-law’s band play and now I’m too exhausted to write, so I culled my archived files and found this gem from 2005 (I think). I wrote it after losing a love.

the space between

the chambers

echoes only silence,

bouncing loud

upon the walls

I build

for my protection

______

*I am quite aware that I am not a poet, by any stretch of the definition. I know very little of stanzas and rhyming patterns, but I set a writing exercise goal to craft a “poem a day” for a month. 29 poems it is.