Where fiber art, inspiration, and words meet.

Category: poetry

  • NaPoWriMo 9: Haiku Trio

    I haven’t swallowed the drill at the dentist yet I should just walk away Clever inside jokes lucky charms they don’t explain sipping my milkshake Too fast, brain freeze hurts Novocaine wearing off, dulled aching in my heart.  

  • NaPoWriMo 8: Roller Derby, Jamming

    It is like driving a car or riding a bike or running I only hear my breath, feel my legs – almost like someone else’s legs – beneath me With one more push or one wily move I’m past everyone else There is only this: everything else fades away This concentration of effort and will…

  • NaPoWriMo 7

    The smell of engine oil, metal, of galvanized nails lined up in bins with a hanging scale and stacks of paper bags, not the plastic boxes, and reels of chains in all different sizes. My favorite: the key machine, with all those blanks hanging, waiting to be carved to fit your lock, and your lock,…

  • NaPoWriMo 6: Ham-handed

      I have been ham handed with so many things lately. Where did my digits go? My handy opposable thumbs? If only my hands were actual hams I could have a snack. Instead, it is my mind that is ham handed, rushing to conclusions, neglecting details. I get the tools to fix it – an…

  • NaPoWriMo 4

    I’m buckling down for the long haul laying in the supplies again measuring my life by how much there may be left to live, how many more times I might see the daffodils the buds, the weak green of early spring.

  • NaPoWriMo 3: On Waking

    On Waking The wren’s insistent calls to his mate just outside our window The door closing, clicking in the latch Dogs barking at seemingly nothing in their quest to be useful Dishes being put away, plates stacking loudly against each other The front door being slammed shut as they hurry for to the bus The…

  • NaPoWriMo 2

    That woman in the picture looks like me but she is older and really: it’s me. She could be my mother’s sister if we compared the two at 40. There are 25 years between us and I am, of course, her daughter, the only daughter of an only daughter. She is the seamstress daughter of…

  • NaPoWriMo, 100 Day Project, An Old Poem

    In keeping with November and NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), where participants attempt to write a 50,000 word novel over the course of the month, April is NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. I’m thinking about participating again to see if I can write more than the 12 poems I did in 2014. Are any of…

  • People are rivers

    (Although the end of that last quote is a tough one for someone with a mental illness – it’s impossible for me to smile and be carefree sometimes and I try not to blame myself/beat myself up for not being able to while still striving to smile & be carefree. It’s complicated.)

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