Category: Poetry

Four years ago I started a series of daily poems to help me get comfortable writing on a consistent basis. I wrote what the title suggests—a poem a day—to create constantly and release my feelings and emotions. I did it for a month, and I remember really enjoying the creative outlet.

I have perfectionist traits that can prevent me from writing because I feel like everything I put to the page needs to be the best thing I’ve ever written. Instead of helping me write, that keeps me from ever recording a single thought.

I want to get back to that no judgment approach to writing and let my thoughts fly. This marks the return of the Poem a Day Series and hopefully marks a return to the joy of writing for me.

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Day 1: “Life”

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Life is beautiful

and gross

and funny

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One minute you’re looking up at the trees

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A heaven-like state

One with Nature

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The next you’re wiping bird shit out of your eye

People sleep 

In the dark 

In the cold

outside 

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People sleep

In the dark

Bundled up and warm

inside

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People live

To survive

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People live 

To thrive

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People die

Because of the color of their skin

Because protection under the law is not guaranteed to them

Because people in power do not represent them,

do not celebrate them,

do not see them

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People die

Because of old age

Because they lived a full life of protections and privilege

Because that is what happens at the end of life for them, not in the middle

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People shout

Our Lives Matter

Black Lives Matter

I Can’t Breathe

As they take to the streets to demand justice

To demand equality

To demand safety and opportunity

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People shout

Obscenities laced with racism 

A product of privilege and ignorance

An embarrassment to society that is all too common

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People cry

In the wake of the death of their loved ones

In the wake of the state of the country

In the wake of what this country was built on

And what it tries so desperately to forget and deny and suppress

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People cry

When they learn the truth

When they try to understand 

When they acknowledge their part

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People unite

With the understanding that not everyone can understand

But that change is necessary 

And acknowledgement is vital 

That reparations start with a collective apology

A collective confession

A collective frame shift 

A call to action 

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A Revolution

Led by the people 

The people who have needed the world to affirm

that Their Lives Matter

Haunting

“It’s not your fault.”

Fear 

Guilt 

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“It’s not your fault.” 

Shame 

Pain

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“It’s not your fault.” 

Denial

Delusion

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“It’s not your fault.”

Pleading 

Screaming

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“It’s not your fault.”

Deafening

Sickening

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“It’s not your fault.”

Numb

Empty 

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“It’s not your fault.”

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But it is

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Healing

I sink lower 

                   and 

                          lower

The sand in my head

Pulls me in

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Each grain is coarse

It reaches       all       of       me

Scratching me

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I lean into the discomfort

I deserve it 

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I fall 

        deeper 

Letting the sand 

                          s  e  t  t  l  e 

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When I emerge

Soft and smooth

Refreshed 

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The coarse sand is washed away 

with the 

  waves

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Hoping

I am left with reckless desire

It threatens to break me

A waning wish, ever so dire

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I give in, letting it take me higher

Hoping to find you, hoping to see

I am left with reckless desire

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Red gleams in the flames of the fire

I remember your wish to stay, your quiet plea

A waning wish, ever so dire

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I see the ripped fabric on the barbed wire

My regret is crushing; I did not foresee

I am left with reckless desire

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You’re gone and there’s no rectifier

My heart pleads but there’s no guarantee

A waning wish, ever so dire

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I see the tears; you’re not the only crier

The waves crash on the sand of the sea

I am left with reckless desire

A waning wish, ever so dire

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Heaven

The light shines, glistens on the pond

The green so sweet; I’ve grown so fond

A bird chirps and sings her melody

A dream so near, an approaching remedy

The sky so bright, a sacred bond

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A fear so big for what’s beyond

I don’t want to leave, to end this song

Nature floats, a sight so heavenly

The light shines, glistens on the pond

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Mother calls, waves her heavy wand

A change too big, my future pawned

Here I want to be so desperately 

Taken too soon, rooted in tragedy 

I promise to return, to correspond

The light shines, glistens on the pond

This is my last post in this series. I am so grateful to the people who read my poems, and I hope everyone enjoyed them. I am very glad I did this series because I was able to get into a routine of posting every day. I love the therapeutic nature of poetry, and I will definitely carry that into other posts on my blog. Here’s to more content more often!

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Day 30: Untitled

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A blanket of clouds

snuggled up

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An escape from the never-ending bombardment of the screen

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The cold air

pushes me closer

to the pillowy, soft fortress

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I close my eyes

willing myself to sleep

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my mind wanders

the desire to sleep fades

as I begin planning my entire future

Day 29: “Spring Allergies”

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Fuzziness

Stuffiness

inhabits my brain

and nose

and throat

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The sky is bright

the trees have bloomed

outside is oh so inviting

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But I lock myself in

stare out the window

breathing normally

enjoying the view

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Spring is here

Day 27: “Change is a Four-Letter Word”

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Change is a four-letter word

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I don’t mean big, monumental, societal change

That’s good and important and necessary

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I’m talking about day-to-day change

The stuff that messes up what you planned in your head

It’s as little as what you’ll have for breakfast

Or as big as getting two job opportunities

instead of the one you were planning on

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This change can still be good and important

and I know it’s necessary

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But I don’t like it!

Day 26: “Laundry”

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The laundry pile grows

I move it out in the open

so I have to stare it down as I go through my day

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Who will win the staring contest?

The stubborn adult

or the ever-growing, ever-flowing

pile of clothes

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The desire for clean sheets almost forces me to retire

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Then I remember

to check the linen closet

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I make my bed and look to the pile as if to say,

“Your move.”