A Piece of Bad Poetry

Today, during the women’s group that I am a part of, we did a special guided meditation and prayer. When we were given time to journal about our experience, I wrote several very bad and very short poems because I process things best by writing them in verse. I have decided to share one with you. 🙂 XD


I write a crap-ton of bad poetry.

Because there’s a crap-ton of shit
(Look at how articulate
I am) going on. Sometimes I forget

This life is a gift and the
I AM is behind it.

Ghazal: Life and Freedom

I’m a bit obsessed with ghazals right now, so here is another one, which I worked on yesterday and today, and which was partially written for FOWC: Repose and this prompt about immersion.


You know better than I what’s died in me.
My God who’s living still, abide in me.

One dream not dead has been this poetry,
Ideas are a spring ne’er dried in me.

A verse which starts despairingly finds hope:
See, these two sides have always vied in me.

In words’ expression there is some repose,
Despite immersion in emotions –strong tide in me.

A life not merely written nor read, but lived:
Sparrow-song calls, may freedom be satisfied in me.

Friendly Words

For today’s FOWC: Essay and a repeat ( 🙂 ) of yesterday’s because why not. Today is a lot like yesterday, in general. Yesterday I left 4 partly-done poems in my notebook, which is very unusual. My hope is to finish those and whatever other ideas that I have gotten or will get today.


Repeat: the same as yesterday.
No need to write an essay,
Just a poem, here at home.
Words keep being my friends
So I am not alone.

In the Grand Scheme

At the moment of death,
When life flashes before your eyes
And each event is seen —
What importance will it be,
What you’re so worried about now?
In life’s greatest overview,
What is more true and lasting than
Love? In faith: jump and trust.


I’m not exactly happy with this free-verse poem, but it works for FOWC: Overview.

Secrets Hidden from Everyone

This poem is in response to FOWC: Keen, and it also uses yesterday’s word, Anonymous.


I’m keen to know the secrets of the heart,
The hidden and anonymous parts,
The mysterious maze-like corridors,
The core from which a person’s life pours.

I wish to know the web of paths which led
To this beautiful moment, and the bad
Happenings now past — impossible, it’s said.

Makeover

A free-verse poem for FOWC: Hack. I decided to post this, even though it’s a little late. Side note: It may have taken me longer to find a picture for this post than to write the poem.


She has half a mind
To hack off all her long hair,
Dye it black, switch to contacts
And try some dusky
Eyeshadow — to follow
That strange, strong desire
To fashion an entirely
New persona, renamed,
Restarting this screwed-up game.

stylish woman with bright makeup resting on lawn
Photo by Thu1ec3 Phu1ea1m on Pexels.com

How It Was, Before the Rain

This poem was written for Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry prompt this week. We can write in any form yet are supposed to use at least 10 of the 15 given words. Also for Writing Wednesday: Dehydrated.


I saw sunshine in your eyes,
A heavenly zest for life,
You were summertime,
Like watermelon eaten poolside,
Quenching the thirst of
My dehydrated mind.

I thought you saw
Clear skies, then
Out of the blue, what must
Have been a total eclipse,
Sudden, of your beautiful life.