For the Pix To Words prompt.

Big city // bustling marina

Five or six people sit on a bench,

Waiting, phones in faces, and

Do not see the sunlight glinting

On the surface of the sea.

Do not see the faces of companions,

Only their own reflection

In the smartphone screen.



For day 28 of NaPoWriMo, we are writing meta-poems, or poems about poetry. 

This pen spills ink because there’s an ache in me:

Words dance together and bump into, knock on

The door on the inside of my mind, waiting

Impatiently, wanting more room to be set free.


Finally, they are able to burst through the door,

Formed like Athena through the head of Zeus,

Not so gloriously, but a sign that I’m fighting.

A Seed Is Buried…

A poem that incorporates repetition and is about rebirth. This is a cascade poem. 

A seed is buried in the ground:

Potential life that seems to die

Is getting ready for rebirth.


Preparing soil for planting:

In hopeful anticipation

A seed is buried in the ground.


And autumn leaves turn brown and red,

Fall to the ground and leave trees bare:

Potential life that seems to die.


Keep calm; exhale the frigid air,

Remember that nature’s cocoon

Is getting ready for rebirth.

Reflection on a Photograph of My Garage

For NaPoWriMo day 25 and this prompt about Imagist poetry from Real Toads. I took a photo of my garage and went from there. 


To the left hangs my mother’s white tank top

Next to my brother’s green work shirt:


There is space between his things

And the pink shirt with tiny white polka dots

To the left hang my dad’s shirts, blue and black.

Look closer —

See the laundry baskets, one of which is

Half-empty, and behind that, the box and bag

Of clothes that won’t be worn again, that

Will be taken to Goodwill (eventually) —


Close to the door, a big blue suitcase

That hasn’t yet been put away, and an

Old round dartboard — years since anyone played.