Category: Poetry
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AprPAD — Day 14
Day 14: write a poetry form and its anti-form (I chose poetry form: haiku 5-7-5 and reverse haiku 7-5-7) Haiku:hidden from my viewhoofbeats stitch the morning air sunlight listens in Reverse Haiku:ghost hooves, hear them echoingthrough the falling hushwhere only dawn dares to rise Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: form…
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AprPAD — Day 13
The Problem That Was Never Yours she typed into the darkand sent it to my door what’s your problem? three wordsthat weigh too much I could have caught the rockthrown it back instead I don’t have a problembut it seems you do enough my grandmother taught mehow to stop the first stone refuse the target…
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1304: The Liturgy, Part 8
Liturgy for the Mechanical DarkNight on the Rhône, Half Light and Awake I. The Weight of Sound Sound has become a weight.Not noise—noise is fleeting:a shout, a clatter; this thingshuffles marrow in bone. This is weight:the engine’s pulse hammering my bonesuntil sleep feels mechanical,a function rather than a rest. Lanterns shake in their brackets.The floor…
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AprPAD — Day 12
Traveling Music for a Blackbird It’s always been so a cat,dogs,a fox, sometimes,squirrels,mostly birds some need more than I can givesome only need to know morninglight through tulipsdaffodil seedheads swelling I had not slept well a blackbirdnear the fernsstill as stone I warmed a towela dish of water wrapped she stayed quietwhile I hummedold traveling…
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The Old Woman With No Cat
The First Crocus (Or: How to Philosophise a Flower) The Old Woman kneels in the still-cold soil,points to a brave spear of yellow poking through frost and forgotten leaves,“Look,” she whispers.“Spring.” The cat pads over,sniffs delicately …then draws back as if offended by hope. “Hmm.A small, yellow invader.Uninvited.Asserting itself.” She smiles.“It’s a flower, not a…
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AprPAD — Day 11
Home when they sold the housesomething stayed behindthat I could not return to I was twentyliving alonein rooms that knew my namebut not my weight after that — heat that pressed against the lungsstreets that ran before they burnedmeals I could not name and always,a rhythmI had to learnwith my whole body and I learnedhome…
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11.04: Journal of SenHai
Senryu so carefully now even a single ripple feels worth noticing Haiku flamingo bends low one drop disturbs the still pond circles remember Written for SenHai Saturday prompt #47.
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AprPAD — Day 10
A Thousand Drops I walk in cloudsof apple blossom whitenessfullnessa thousand drops of honeyed light bees —their musichas returned Written for AprPAD Challenge Day 10: a mini poem. Prompt word: write a small poem of less than 10-lines
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AprPAD — Day 9
A Tale But Not One for Telling whispering children sayshe lives at the end of a man-wide path, sparks climbingfrom hearth to sky,a cat humming in its sleep and the air about hersmells of petrichor they sayher shadow bends wrong like a little old manwho knows a tune that small stars follow Written for Writers’…
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AprPAD — Day 8
PARANOID Empty street.Footsteps echo. Wait. Not mine.Not mine.Not — a window’s blink of light,a curtain’s nervous hand. Someone knows.Someone always knows. Written for Writers’ Digest Poem-a-Day Challenge for April 2026. Prompt word: paranoid
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