NaPoWriMo #30: Made it! Free Write

Being Late

I remember that little breathless
moment
when I realized I was late.

This one was like a flower
opening
not like the ones

before you’re married
that are like
razor blades

nicking your brain
with worry.
No, this one

was the sun rising,
ocean waves
kissing the sand,

thoughts of blue eyes
and blond curls.
This late was a smile.

Poetry Train and NaPoWriMo #29: Headline

Monday May 10, 2010

I've been thinking of my dad lately.  He died 13 years ago today.  When I saw this headline a couple weeks ago in the newspaper, it reminded me of an incident from when I was a kid.
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Mt. Washington Auto Road
opens for 149th season May 1

It’s still covered in white
this peak of ours
poking up into the clouds.

My dad worked
on the summit
for quite a few years.

It is woven into our lives;
every night on the news
Marty Ingstrom would

give us the weather report
from up there in his dry
voice ending with that quirky

smile. One time my dad
got to sit there with him
and we kids gathered

around the TV in the living
room feeling pretty special.
It was like knowing

a celebrity. Every time
I see the mountain
I think of my dad.

NaPoWriMo #28: 3WW: Depart, Ignite, Rotten

Late Snow Ignites Dreams of Future

Woke up to six inches
of late April snow
covering all the baby
leaves and flowers.

Winter takes his time
to depart in this neck
of the woods. I grabbed
my camera and snapped

a couple pictures to take
with us to Florida
when we retire in another
year, to remind us of why

we don’t want to live up here
where the weather is rotten
most of the time. Then I put
my boots on, got the shovel

out, cleaned off my truck,
and made my way
to school. One day
closer to being done.

NaPoWriMo #27: Acrostic

ReadWritePoem prompts us to write an acrostic today.  And for journal writing in my classes today the prompt was: Write about wanting to leave some place but you can't.  I combined the two.
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Left brain already out the door
Even though I know I can’t really leave.
Anchors weigh me down.
Velvet hands and words, always,
Instead of rocks but, still, I
Need to find my own space.
Going, going, gone.

NaPoWriMo #26: Rework an Old Line

You Hear Church Bells in the Distance

And the notes sparkle
like tinsel
in the Christmas air.

St. Paul’s Lutheran Church
is playing carols.
See how the sharps

and flats float around
then settle
on the ground

like snowflakes.
I pick up a handful
and let them drift

down over me
like a waterfall
of song. Then

head to Walmart.
I go through the doors
and hear the canned

carols being played
and this time
the notes slap me

in the face. I get
my list out, crumple
it, and leave.

NaPoWriMo #25: First Things First

ReadWritePoem prompts us to listen to the first thing someone says to us and write a poem around it.  This is what my husband said to me this morning.
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He walks downstairs
and goes into the kitchen
to make coffee

and notices a new striped
cutting board. “Did you buy
a new cutting board?”

“Yeah, it’s from Avon.
I had to buy something.”
“Couldn’t you just

give her some money
each time so we wouldn’t
end up with all this crap?”

I laugh, he continues
to make his coffee,
then comes into the living

room and turns the TV on
to his fishing shows.
I write a poem.

NaPoWriMo #24: Just an Observation

Addicted

His fat fingers
tap dance on the keys.

He lets his glasses slip
down onto his nose

and he peers over them
through near-sighted eyes.

He swears when he can’t find
what he’s looking for,

runs his hand through
his hair and rubs his forehead,

grunts and complains.
My husband is searching

for Harley parts
on ebay.