the heart

A late response for the Sunday Whirl’s wordle #362. Shared with DVerse, open link night. Read other poems here.

The heart is a lake, surrounded by pines
it yearns, it knows not how to pass the time
until it sees your face again in person.
There are signs of your presence, pictures —
but you are gone on a trip from which
you cannot return, nor bring back a gift.
The heart wishes to travel too, to wherever you are,
but here it must stay, under a hand-sewn quilt,
at the bottom of a staircase, in a drafty cabin
near a deep lake, surrounded by pines.


For Real Toads, where the prompt for the weekend is to write about a “scene of the seaside you know or remember.” Update: Shared with DVerse’s Meeting the Bar because I played around a bit with punctuation and spacing.

Twelve years old, I visited Hawaii for the first time,
with my family. We stayed down the street
from Waikiki’s white-sand beach.

Amidst the crowds I still felt peace,
feeling the September sun and seeing the waves
going in and out, saying Aloha —

Hello, I love you, and goodbye.

Does It Need to Be a Nightmare?

ForĀ this creative prompt from Real Toads, about turning a fearful nightmare into something funny or not threatening. Based on a true story.

I’d often have a stressful dream,
Of a tsunami coming,
I’d see it hit me, die,
And be brought back to life
Over and over again.

The cycle would cease when
I realized it was a dream:
So I would grow gills
In peace swimming in the new sea,
And breathing underwater easily.