Stream-of-Consciousness Sunday

This poem was inspired by yesterday’s SoCS, but I didn’t write it until today. It surprises me how difficult it seemed to write a post starting with the word, “If.” 


If none of this Covid stuff ever happened,
If fear didn’t let it get out of proportion,
Maybe I wouldn’t feel hopeless so often.

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Memory from a Fruit

This is for DVerse Poetics’s prompt, “Always in Season.” It turns out that, a few months ago, I wrote a different poem about an orange, which is interesting because I don’t like oranges that much. Nevertheless, they are evidently full of juicy inspiration!


I peeled an orange and found
Joy, inside that rough exterior peel,
Bordering on obnoxious with that summery citrus scent,
Joy in the juice which covered my fingers,
In the pulp which found its way
Under each one of my fingernails —

I peeled an orange and grabbed
Happiness, full of ripeness, because I wasn’t
Looking overly intently for it.

sliced orange fruit
Photo by Delphine Hourlay on Pexels.com

Carnations

This Chaucerian stanza was inspired by the time I really did buy myself a carnation on Valentine’s Day. ❤


On Valentine’s she for a flower waits,
Maybe a rose? A girl can’t help but dream.
Then she decides to her own love create,
Seeing carnations red and pink and cream-
Colored, for sale; a pink one’s beauty seems
Ideal, she buys herself a long-stemmed bloom.
Kindness and love can always make more room.

I Suffer From…

Today I have something for one-liner Wednesday and a free-verse poem, inspired by FOWC: Ingrate, to go with it. A couple of weeks ago, I found this one-liner online somewhere, probably on Instagram:

“I suffer from mental illness. I also suffer from people who don’t understand mental illness.”

I am not a hypocrite for being a Christian and having depression.
So it’s not helpful to command me, “Rejoice.”
I am not an ingrate for not always wanting to live,
So stop telling me to make a gratitude list.
(Not that it’s any of your business,
But sometimes at night I fall asleep
Thanking God for what he’s given me —
Often by the end of the day
Glad to have chosen to stay.)

In Everything

Just something I wrote this morning…

Blessed are the pure of heart,
For they shall see God:
They shall see God
In the morning sunrise, and
In the midnight starlight;
They shall see God
In times of strenuous work, and
In much-welcomes rest;
They shall see God
In their neighbor’s eyes, and
In their very life –

Make me pure of heart.