The Bicycle

a humble trip,
through rain and sleet,
propelled by feet,
a course uncharted,
or forgotten,
a simple pair of wheels,
scavenging for meals,
her statement made,
an act of courage,
choosing to forage,
defying form,
redefining norm,
denying expectation,
an act of meditation,
on the worthiness of life.



This poem was inspired by the prompt "Create a character sketch based on the type of car the character owns. Select the car, ie: Buick, El Camino, Limo, or use the lack of a vehicle, as your starting point." which immediately brought to mind stories from "Carrot" who blogged about biking through all weather and living off of things other people threw away because she intentionally chose to minimize the impact she made on the earth.

What Good is a Day?

What good is a day,
if nothing gets done,
if nothing's accomplished,
to say I'm proud of this?

What good is a day,
that's not being lived,
that's simply passed through,
without celebrating life?

What good is a day,
lived in a fog,
forgetting the meaning,
of living life to the full?

What good is a day,
wasted on worry,
filled with fear,
and marked by despair?

What good is a day,
when I feel this way?



Poetry Prompt - Write a poem using the following start: "What good is a day..."

Color Blind Tree

Proud and majestic it stands,
reaching arms to the sky,
stretching toes deep into rich earth,
wrapped in rough callused skin,
clothed with soft velvety moss,
fluttering fingers in the air,
tickling sky,
catching the sun,
dripping shadows of cool,
to the grass below.


Free Writing Prompt - Without using color names, describe a tree.

What language are your tears?*

If a picture's worth,
a thousand words,
a tear drop must be,
worth a thousand feelings,
a thousand stories,
of pain and joy.

If a tear drop tells,
a thousand stories,
it must be in,
the language of love,
love for the broken,
love for the living,
love for the hurting,
love for the celebrating,
love for the one,
who forgets that they're loved,
and love for the one,
who's wrapped tight in love.


*Title and inspiration came from the song "Is Love Enough?" by Michael Franti

Writer's Anonymous

Simple words,
spilt on paper,
but they're more,
addicting habit,
spreading ink,
like drops of feeling,
laughing as,
once unknown thrill,
becomes compulsory,
an insatiable need,
the inner poet,
once denied,
demands to be,
the only one,
who speaks,
the true.


Poetry Prompt - Write a poem using "Writers Anonymous" as your title. (Or, "Hi My Name Is")

Reading in Bed

With eyes scrunched shut,
breath held tight,
a too still body,
listens...

To the creak of the door,
carefully opened,
to take a peak
at a child's sleep.

Wiser eyes know,
the scrunched ones aren't sleeping.
With silent smile,
they turn off the light.

After the door shuts,
and the footsteps die,
small eyes pop open,
as if spring loaded.

Little hands search,
for their lost page of adventure,
to silently read,
by the light of the moon.


Inspired by the prompt "After the door shuts and the footsteps die..." which my cousin shared with me.

Who told you that?

That's an electric fence,
to shock you if,
you try to break in.

Who told you that?

It's true,
they turn it on at night,
and then,
it shocks people.

Who told you that?

My mom.
A child's eyes declare,
it must be true,
My mom said so.

It's not,
but how can I say,
Mom lied to you?