No Longer a Good Actress

I used to be able to pretend a lot better than I do now. In some ways life is better, but in other ways it is worse. At the same time, I might like myself better now than, say, in high school. A Chaucerian stanza for FOWC: Lips.

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To smile with ones lips and not one’s eyes —
Underneath this mask, who can for long hide?
No longer a good actress, I reprise
This role without success, cannot abide
Nor anymore pretend, not satisfied.
Emotional, my brain tends to break down,
But I’ve no painted smile like a clown.

When Letters Come Together

Today’s official NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a poem inspired by the meaning of your name. I always thought I knew what Jenna meant (little bird), but apparently, there are more meanings. I suppose that’s a lot like my personality because I am always trying to find more meaning, delving deeper into the “why”s of existence and the intricacies of the events that happen or don’t happen… I’m rambling a bit. Another meaning, apparently, comes from Arabic, and it means “heaven.” That’s very flattering! XD It is also a variant of Jean, which means “God’s grace.” No wonder I like St. Jeanne d’Arc.

By Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres cartelfr.louvre.fr, Public Domain

Just a simple little bird
Extends to much more, by God’s grace:
Now I find more pieces,
Nuances on the map to Heaven,
Acting as refreshment for the warrior

I was going to write something fancy, but here is an acrostic for today.

Impatience

For this prompt about the passing of time and for FOWC: Prodigious.

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Time’s prodigious pace
Slows. Significantly.
When you wish it would speed.

Time runs wildly
During those moments
Which make you the most happy:

Time flies by;
Soon you must leave
The dear one by your side.

Wait as the world
Spins several more times,
‘Til you see each other again.

Photo by samer daboul on Pexels.com

Celebration

Inspired by Easter Sunday, this is for the décima challenge and for MLMM’s Saturday Mix: Double Take.

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Humans did err, got caught in claws
Of death, yet Jesus came, erased
The penalty — He, our faith’s base,
This is our celebration’s cause.

This deserves more than loud applause
But a whole life: God made us heirs
With Christ, all His blessings He shares.
Bass, tenor, alto, soprano
All sing in harmony and show
Even death itself — life which dares.

Pages, an Expanse

I wrote this poem today for FOWC: Myriad and Fandango’s flash-fiction challenge #111.

from Celine Ylmz at Unsplash

The Solitary Walker

Happy World Poetry Day, fellow readers / writers! This is the first I’ve heard of it, but that’s fine because I’m always up for celebrating poetry. The poem I have today is for FOWC: Solitary and was also inspired by MLMM’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Lost. Linked with PSU’s Writers’ Pantry (which is where I learned about today’s special celebration 🙂 ).

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The solitary walker,
Whether she is noticing
Flowers on the edges of concrete,
Or is fully immersed
In grass or tall trees,
Loves to get lost
Along those winding pathways,
Loves those many moments
Multiple yet precious,
When God smiles through
Nature, throughout creation,
When she again realizes
She is not solitary.

photo by Walter Sturn, on Unsplash

Happy Spring!

For Linda G. Hill’s coloring club this month, I have another picture from my Pusheen the cat coloring book, which I hadn’t colored in in a while.

As another, bonus sign of spring, there are some strawberries growing in my family’s garden!

This was taken a few days ago. Soon we’ll get to eat them!

Kyrielle: The Past

This poem is a form called a kyrielle, for Linda’s paint-chip poetry prompt. I wrote this yesterday but saved the post for today. The paint chip words are below. I am also linking with DVerse OLN.

Enter the past, see its warm glow,
Its happiness when it begins —
Until it becomes a black widow:
The veil is tissue-paper thin.

It takes two to tango, this game
That every person is cast in.
Responsibility or blame?
The veil is tissue-paper thin.

In life, some events cause a blast,
Some future concerns make a din,
As present turns into the past —
The veil is tissue-paper thin.

Loud Voices

This is for two prompts from MLMM: the Sunday Writing Prompt and Tale Weaver: Bookworm.

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“Bookworms unite!” The loud cry
Came from a crowd congregated outside
The library, hoping for it to be reopened,
Making their voices heard, missing the
Multitudes of written words.

opening pages
newness held in waiting hands —
now there is quiet

Fortunate

Ronovan’s décima challenge was, indeed, extra challenging this week, as the prompt word was “fortune” (in the B rhyme line).

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Misguided is much jealousy:
Alleged strokes of good fortune
May not turn out to be a boon,
May prove to be pure vanity.

No person knows all verity:
One pair of eyes sees what’s outside
And not what others try to hide,
Tomorrow’s secrets are not shown
So Fate’s caprices are not known.
Find one’s own blessings, and abide.