Poetry in Motion

Approaching my self-imposed deadline again.

All in all, I would say I have been doing good with posting at least weekly, but then a day like this comes and I don’t know what to say. Literally the only thing I have written this week was a handful of poems, mainly inspired by the bonkers weather we have been experiencing. On the one hand, yay new poems, on the other, boo no blog. So, I figure one could bleed into the other a little.

They’re not good. Of course, I think nothing I write is good, and I don’t want to go getting your hopes up. These are not my favorites or my best, just what I’ve gotten out of myself recently. And since I can’t seem to get a decent blog post out, I’ll go with this until I find one.

Makeup- deleted for submission, 2020.

Heat

Below my balcony a baby wails-

“Too hot!”

Over and over

And I agree because that winter weather

Has moved out for the summer,

Packed its bags and disappeared

To leave me boiling

In heat too early for May

And I want to rush to it

My maternal instinct kicking in

And hold a cool cloth to its head,

The one on mine,

The one to take away this headache that does not leave

Because there is a baby

Wailing outside my window.

Flowerbox

I plant flowers in cheap dirt and pray for miracles

Like raindrops and sun

But the ground freezes over again and I am reminded

That this is Buffalo and I should know better

Than to get my hopes up like the vines

Of the morning glories I try to bring to life

Despite rocky soil and poor climate.

I don’t know excitement,

Because I can never muster it,

No thanks to tiny pills that run my body for me

Because it is too tired to run itself.

I look for joy in these little seedlings,

But find myself disappointed

When nothing remains but dirt.

**published Street Light Press,2018

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