Poetry

Fly (A Poem)

/ Katie / 12 Comments

It’s been a little while since I’ve done one of Rebecca’s poetry challenges over at Fake Flamenco. July’s challenge is a good one! Here’s my entry:

How lucky
are the little birds
to fly –
unafraid,
perched high and serene,
unconfined.
If I could,
would I?
It remains to be seen.
But I can watch the world
from my own
perfect perch,
the nest I’ve made.
It’s not as big
as the sky,
but it’s
mine.

These are so much fun. 😊 If you’d like to participate, too, you’ve got until Sunday. Can’t wait to read what everyone submitted! It’s so cool to see all of the different perspectives on one theme.   

I Can’t Sleep (A Pregnancy Poem)

/ Katie / 19 Comments

At this point, I’ve bought
FOUR
different pregnancy pillows.
And you know what,
I still can’t sleep.
I suppose it’s not surprising,
not a big mental leap
by any means,
since I’ve never been good at this.
But it sure would be nice
to curl up for
at least one night,
totally at peace.
And I have to wonder,
for those who can,
for those lucky ones who
drift off
quick and easy:
What is the secret?
Like, I have to be missing something,
right?
RIGHT?!
(I’m tired.)

Busy Bees (A Poem)

/ Katie / 14 Comments

Keep busy,
little fuzzy buzzies,
at your most important industry
and know that in this garden,
you are safe.
Just look at the state of it –
overgrown and ardently wild –
a sign without a sign to say:
Pollinators Welcome.
(Humans, Proceed with Caution.)
I always hope that one day,
probably far away,
I’ll become a gardener.
In the meantime, then,
how lovely to see
that at least I’ve helped create something:
This space for you to gather
what you need.
And how nice, indeed,
to think that Nature nurtures
all on her own,
regardless of me.

Tilson (A Poem)

/ Katie / Leave a comment

Margaret asked,
“Do you want his letters?”
And my grandmother said no.
My grandmother’s memory
of her brother
never faded.
Year upon year
to her,
he remained crystal clear.
And one day,
his fiancé,
who’d kissed his coffin
when he came home,
asked if she should return the letters
he wrote to her.
“Those belong to you,”
my grandmother answered.
Letters and pictures –
these are the things we hold onto.
But it’s the memories
that keep our loved ones
with us
when they’re gone.
We –
not words or pictures
or gravestones –
we become their legacies.

Some Phone Call; Or, What We All Need to Hear (A Poem)

/ Katie / 5 Comments

Hello?
Hello?
Can you hear me?
It’s me, that is, you,
calling from the future –
not so distant but who’s counting
as we edge closer to forty –
to tell you:
Drink more water.
And please eat the cake.
Tell people you love them,
and share what you like.
Getting laughed at isn’t so bad.
Remember that time we forgot
that thing? Yeah, that really important thing?
Turns out, it wasn’t so important after all.
Funny how that happens.
I wish I could say
in sentences that make sense and feel complete
that I’m proud of us,
even though we often forget to eat.
(You should probably work on that.)
That we should sing more and worry less.
That it’s okay we can’t ride a bike.
(No, you still haven’t tried to learn.
No, you don’t really care.)
And your hair? Luxurious. Leave it.
(And say thank you for the compliment,
instead of just nodding your head, awkwardly.)
You’re not a mess.
At least, not any more than anyone else.
We’re all just out here,
pretending to know what we’re doing,
even after all these years.
So don’t let fear get in your way, okay?
Okay?
If I had more time…
Can you…
I’m losing…
…just one…thing
…
…

Three Spring Haiku

/ Katie / 9 Comments

Each year I’ve waited
For the little frogs to peep
The first sign of spring

Birdsong all around
Morning dew in the meadow
Breathe a sigh of spring

Last night I saw them
The first of the year’s fireflies
Summer’s on the way

Home (A Poem)

/ Katie / 7 Comments

I’ve built my house,
on a bed of dreams,
a million little hopeful timbers,
with nails made of joy and grief.
Life takes hold of us that way,
you know –
the sweet made sweeter
by bitter loss,
the loss made better by
the time that came before.
Funny, that I didn’t even realize,
how the building and building
never felt like a chore.
And now, my house moves
with me wherever I go,
but also stands
forever at a crossroads,
a perpetual choice between
this and that
or that or that.
And though it doesn’t matter,
I wonder:
How many lives have I
not chosen?

Good Morning, May Monday! (Thoughts, and a Poem)

/ Katie / 16 Comments

It’s a new week, and a new month! I’ll have a short story out on Wednesday (April’s, just a little late), and in the meantime, I’m playing catch-up from our weekend with family (which was lovely and, as usual, too short). It’s looking to be a busy week, and you know, I’m really fine with that. I always feel like I have more energy and more determination in spring. It’s like watching the earth come alive again makes me feel more alive, too.

So, onward! And here’s a poem to get the week started. 😊 Happy creating, y’all!

************

Lady May (A Poem)

Crowned in flowers
and robed in sunshine,
Lady May walks now
from slope to valley,
forest to river
to field and pasture.
And in her dewy wake,
she lines them with color,
paints them green and blue
and pink and white,
bright yellow and regal lavender,
and leaves behind
the joy and hope of a world
come alive once more.