A Mirror into My Brain

For today’s blog update, I have 2 poems that I wrote today. One of them, the cherita, was inspired partly by a prior FOWC (yesterday’s, which was the word “prior.” 🙂 ). The second poem is a mirror cinquain. Some of these things I just have to get out….

"Not in Remission"

"Some people have got real problems."

Sometimes stuff happens which makes
Everything prior seem inconsequential.

Anxiety came, depression deepened, perfectionism
Metastatized and I even after everything
Still feel that cancer crawling in my bones.

So much
Going on day to day,
Feeling like Atlas, what weight to

Hold it
For a moment, many moments,
So much awareness of 

The people who see me at church usually think I’m vivacious and extroverted; someone recently called me “a delight to be around,” and a coworker became one of the roughly 30 people who have declared me “adorable.” That’s really funny because it’s not like I’m lying about who I really am, yet spend a couple of hours in my brain on more or less ANY day, and you’ll see how wrong that perception is! It’s paradoxical.

Seas, Islands, and Sharks

Even when I have difficulty, or when it’s been a long day, responding to prompts and posting to my blog is a hobby of mine (as you know), so here is a little poem.

Of trial —
Words are the islands
On which I find safe shelter


For FOWC: Sea and partially inspired by DVerse’s Habun Monday because I used the idea of “shelter,” but I’m not linking up because this isn’t a haibun.

Here is FFFC: #182. The picture reminded me of my ex and me because we would do jigsaw puzzles in the park together (that’s another of my hobbies — puzzles). Before we were dating, we would use that as an excuse to sit really close to each other or “accidentally” brush our hands together. It was one of those cute but ridiculous things. One puzzle had a bunch of different sharks on it, so that is what this cherita is inspired by.


I thought the pieces fit together, didn't you?

A couple dozen sharks with so much ocean between them,
Several times we tried to finish the picture

We never did finish that thousand-piece puzzle.
Now it's too late, for time flows forward.
There are plenty of other "sharks" in the sea.


I surprised myself by writing for MLMM’s “Sunday Confessionals: Secrets.” I wasn’t going to because (if you read the prompt) even I have things I don’t want to write about. However, a book I was reading reminded me of this prompt and inspired me to try. This poem, a cherita, is a response to the poem that I wrote in response to the prompt, so it is tangentially related. 


I was glad to get to use this image of a painting by Magritte, called “Double Secrets.”
I wrote my poem; it took up a whole page. 

There are some things so sacred I won't 
Name them, blasting them on my blog.

You won't be witness to this catharsis
Even I don't know how deep the sea 
Of double-secrets, but the waves whisper it.

Does That Place Exist Anymore?

Today’s installment for Flashback Friday. Although I have a vast collection of poems from the past 6 or 8 or more years, I am choosing one that I posted before, exactly 3 years ago. This poem was for FFFC #24 (wow, that was a while ago!) and was called “Atlas.”


An atlas is open, made of paper --
A man points with index fingers
Attached to weathered hands: “Here.”

I post this from a smartphone —
Atlas carries the changing Earth
Does that place exist anymore?


This is going to be another ranting / rambling post. You have been warned.

I saw a post on Instagram, the other day, along the lines of “Don’t trust the thing that’s trying to kill you.” Don’t trust the eating disorder. Don’t trust , the depression. Whatever. Don’t trust the PMDD or whatever is going on with me this time. But if I can’t trust the very body I live in, then what can I trust. Jesus, of course. “Jesus” is always the answer, isn’t it, my Christian friends? It’s too bad when you don’t particularly like Him these days, but you can’t deny or ignore His existence. Go ahead and give me the “worst Christian” award; I don’t care.

Yesterday was this month’s full moon. Maybe that’s why I am being a LUNAtic! I’m a little obsessed with the names of each month’s full moon. July’s is called the Buck Moon because deer’s antlers are growing at this time (allegedly).

I started a cherita about this earlier and am finishing it now:

I am obsessed with the full moon,

Periodically feeling like a total lunatic,
Personality eclipsed, it's absolutely

Hysterical but not funny at all. It shines
Like an unwanted spotlight, and I can't
Hide; the moon can't leave the stage either.
Photo by samer daboul on Pexels.com

Saint Maria Goretti

So, I wrote this yesterday and wasn’t going to share, but then I just couldn’t handle how much this saint’s day triggered me yesterday (I had a hard time with it last year, too, and this day last year). Thankfully, today’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Yesterday was much worse. Thank God I could go to work and get out of my own head yesterday. A reverse cherita.

I love God and love my Church, and Maria did show a great example of forgiveness, but she bothers me. A lot.


Is safeguarding "purity" so important
That a woman should prefer to be 
Dead, rather than a rape victim?

God forgive my impiety I'm
Upset that that's considered saintly.

If Maria forgave Alessandro,* she'd forgive me.

       *her attacker


All week I’ve had a vague idea of what I wanted to write in response to FFFC #173 and WDYS #138, and this morning I wrote this cherita for it. This is based on reality. 🙂 As a kid I would go camping once a year or so, but it wasn’t my favorite vacation, especially since I hated nighttime.

She likes the great outdoors, but camping

Isn’t her thing; and, unable to swim well,
She feels a bit sick and nervous in small boats.

If she must be dragged camping, she might
Go hiking, but she prefers to find adventures
Within pages, of the novels she escapes in.

I hesitated, but…

A reverse cherita, written while hiding in the restroom of a bookstore, so that the person involved would not see me cry (yet). 


There are multiple reasons, but there's one
That makes me seem altruistic: I'll tell you 
That you shouldn't need to deal with me. 

I love you, but this has gone on for long
Enough now, I'm collecting my thoughts, writing goodbye

Gotta get back out there, pretend I wasn't crying. 
Photo by Tomer Dahari on Pexels.com


For Brian’s prompt this week about fate vs. free will, I wrote this cherita, also shared with DVerse OLN.

Back in high school I realized: MOOD backwards

Is DOOM — and I found that fitting. Even then.
Buckle up. I loved roller coasters — as long as

They lay outside of me and not inside my mind.
I’ve felt fated to die, finding life difficult,
Yet even on steep, looping tracks keep breathing.

Photo by Daniel Reche on Pexels.com

Cherita: Epitaph

An old poem for Fandango’s Flashback Friday. I’ve started 4 poems (and a 6-sentence story 🙂 ) today with no conclusions. By the end of the night, I will finish at least one of those, because I am NOT breaking my 5- or 6-year poetry-writing streak! However, that is not right now!

“Epitaph: A Cherita” (written 5/1/2022)

Here lies unrealized poetic potential.

You will place yellow daffodils on the grave;
She previously thought them obnoxious, but lately…

She admired their unapologetic audacity:
These loud, happy, yellow blooms
Exuberant, speaking words she entombed.

christian cross surrounded by daffodils
Photo by Jessica Lewis Creative on Pexels.com