A Last Dance

They were but strangers meeting,
shared a passing glance,
summoned courage to ask for a dance,
their smiles lighted as feet moved,
swinging through familiar tune,
eyes meeting with a longing glance,
only to part with the fading song,
their shared moment gone,
as the last dance ended.



Prompt: Write about a brief encounter.

Lost Words

Middle of the night thoughts,
tumbles of beautiful words,
laced together in a sleepy fog,
lost, gone by morning light.

160 Characters

I text in sentence form,
only trading u for you,
when I reach a character limit,
and some times,
for a challenge,
I write in exactly the max characters allowed.


Prompt: Write a text message poem.

Eternal

There was never only one,
there were always two worlds, collided,
a world of eternal beauty,
a world of eternal hurt,
merged in one place, of beautiful pain.


Prompt from Nean: There was never only one...

The Kiss That Wasn't

I should have known

when he tried to kiss me,

before a first date,

when I didn't even want it.

I never should have gone,

on that awful date.

I never liked the guy,

with his flattery,

he only hurt me.

He only hurt me

with his flattery.

I never liked the guy,

on that awful date.

I never should have gone,

when I didn't even want it.

Before a first date,

when he tried to kiss me -

I should have known.

Flash Fiction Friday prompt: A Kiss to Remember

The Moon

A distant friend,
who never laughs,
or sheds a tear.
Who never cries,
or truly smiles.
Her's is a lonely life,
but so simple,
without a care.

Untitled Prayer (righteousness and justice)

Let us live in righteousness,

not in belief we are right

and the other is wrong,

but in your grace,

doing what each of us is meant to do,

as best as we are able.

Let us seek justice,

not revenge.

Let us work towards wholeness,

fairness,

and authentically valuing

everyone's worth,

rather than fighting for recognition

of our own over-inflated "goodness."

Let you grace shine down and guide us,

when we fail to see the difference,

between righteousness and selfishness,

between justice and punishment,

between creating wholeness and creating division.

Holy Ground

I walk a path unknown,

but really more familiar,

bare foot in the grass,

cold beneath my feet,

sneakers crunching over gravel,

in the heat of summer,

weathered paths,

pulling me,

away from the world,

and closer to God,

to holiness and wholeness.

Things I Saved

Prompt: These are the things I saved.

Bits and projects,

stones and shells,

a stack of tee shirts,

I won't ever wear again,

a million papers,

my best artwork,

middle school essays,

my high school portfolio,

“important stuff”

that means nothing to me

- tax forms and pay stubs

from old jobs

snips of writing,

quotes from random places

- most I've forgotten why I saved,

but still make me smile,

relics of childhood,

and teenage years,

stuff in itself unimportant,

yet glued to precious memories.

Impatient

Waiting...

Waiting...

is it done yet?

If only saying,

I is hungry,

put something yummy,

on the table,

right now.

Sexual Assault Awareness Month

The poem below is written in honor of April begin sexual assault awareness month. Most people never talk about these things, but you probably know at least one person who has lived this. Women and men, young and old, all demographic of people are both directly and indirectly effected by sexual assault, but many will never tell their stories. Would you be willing to listen if they did?

trigger warning: this poem talks about sexual assault.

One touch

He wanted her

led to another

his hands across her skin

she didn't like it

he'd get what he wanted

pushing away

he liked her feisty

only encouraged him

he'd take what he wanted

to get what he wanted

despite her tears.

despite her pain.

Inner Beauty

Mirror mirror,

on the wall,

tell me why,

my looks are yours?

Does it matter if I'm pretty,

if my face is perfect?

Don't look at me like that.

Close your eyes,

take a step back,

don't look so close,

and you'll see more.

Midnight Chatter

Are you listening,

in the night,

as I whisper,

secret fears?

This is when,

I should be sleeping.

I can tell,

because I cry,

when I catch you,

closing eyes,

and drifting off,

to that elusive,

land of sleep.

White

Falling spring flower petals,

blanket the ground with white,

soft reminds of sparkling snow,

cool and delicate in the warmth,

of spring times gentle breeze,

when ice has melted away.

Moon Song

Pale silver moon,

in a purple sky,

like a money plant seed pod,

turned into a spotlight,

on clear rich blue sky.

written 10/22/10

I Can't Remember

I can't remember,

ironically,

I remember,

and I laugh,

cause she remembers,

and yet we write,

I can't remember.

Prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: I can't remember

Praying Through My Pen

Through out Lent I participated in a small group called "Praying Through My Pen." The group was led by Rachel Hackenberg, author of Faith and Water, and focused on using creative writing as a form of prayer. Below are the creative writing and prayer prompts used in that group and links to most of what I wrote in the group.

February 20, 2010

Creative writing prompt: Close your eyes. Write about what you see.

Scripture: Mark 1:11-13

Prayer prompt: Write a prayer for the wilderness.

February 27, 2010

Creative writing prompt: Write about fireworks.

Scripture: Psalm 148

Prayer prompt: Pick a color in nature and write a psalm about God in nature.

March 6, 2010

Warm-up: Write a haiku about someone important to you.

Creative writing prompt: Write about someone who left.

Scripture: Luke 23:34

Prayer prompt: Write a prayer for forgiveness.

March 13, 2010

Creative writing prompt: Write about a longing.

Scripture: Psalm 114

Prayer prompt: You are my sanctuary.

March 20, 2010

Creative writing prompt: This is a map to where I live.

Scripture: Isaiah (I didn't get the chapter or verse written down) and Numbers 11

Prayer prompt: Think about images of God as mother or another non-traditional image of God, and write a prayer to God in that image.

March 27, 2010

Creative writing prompt: Write about memories underfoot.

Scripture: Jeremiah 32: 38-41

Prayer prompt: Write a prayer for discernment or call to action.

The creative writing prompts used were borrowed from A Writer's Book of Days. The prayer prompts were created to be used in this group.

How much do you love me?

How much do you love me?

Do you love me enough,

to hug away my tears,

to hold me when I cry,

to put me on my feet,

when everything feels wrong?

Do you love me enough,

to know who I am,

and still be there,

even when I cry,

for no reason at all?

Do you love me enough,

to stay by my side,

when I've lost track,

of who I am

and what I want?

Do you love me enough,

to catch me when I fall,

stop the out of control,

downward spiral

of my crashing mood?

Do you love me enough,

to be worthy of my trust,

to keep me safe

and not break my heart,

if I let you touch it?

To the Tree of Life

God of the woods,

God of nature,

you are the tree of life.

Your roots sink deep into the earth,

spreading to support our feet

even as we avoid your shadow of comfort.

You are the bright green beauty

of new leaves that catch our eyes,

if only we look up from our over busied lives.

You are the rough bark

taking on the scars of the world,

offering a love more permanent

than anything represented

in hearts and initials,

carefully scratched,

by reckless flighty lovers.

You are the branches reaching out,

bigger than life,

holding us carefully

as we try to climb higher,

reaching for the sky

with our fragile dreams.

You are the infinite complexity

of roots and branches and twigs,

leaves and veins in leaves,

far more intricately complex

than anyone could see from the ground.

This is a map to where I live.

This is a map to where I live.

didn't I write that for school last semester?

or something like that...

I think I live in confusion.

If there was a map of my head,

it would make life easier.

I live on the edge of school,

where one step to the left

means my life depends on getting good grades,

but half a step to the right

means I could just not care,

because none of it is really, about real life anyway.

At the crossroad of work,

where I love my job,

and I love my kids,

and I have fun with my coworkers,

but I hate the values,

and can't believe the lack of parenting

some of my kids get,

and I want so bad to do what I feel is right,

but have to fit the system,

and hate it when I can't

even speak my mind to coworkers

because to really speak out

could cost me my job

or at best cost me,

any respect I've earned there.

I can't afford to lose that respect,

not when I need it to continue

to advance my career,

but sometimes I wonder,

if even that is worth it.

I live across the street from the ideal social life,

from some sort of popular in crowd,

that invites me into their circle,

and welcomes me as I am.

I live on the edge of town,

within earshot of the church bells ringing

with calls to tradition and conformity,

and within sight of the woods

calling new songs,

and even older songs,

a different winding path to faith.

Prompt from A Writer's Book of Days: This is a map to where I live.