Chorus of Blue

Poetry Project: National Geographic Photo of the Day Writing Prompts

Posted by in Poetry, Poetry, Prose, Ten Minutes, Writing

Ever since I was a young girl, I have been deeply fascinated by National Geographic magazine. The wonders of natural phenomena, distant cultures, space and the cosmos… it has all enthralled me for as long as I can recall. Early in life, I insisted my dream career was to be a NGeo photographer and travel the world capturing the unique beauty and wonder of this planet. As most childhood dreams fade, those did as well. But the fascination always remained. 

Now, I’d like to take an opportunity to revisit that fascination directly, but to do so from where I stand now, as a writer.

FREEWRITE: You Write Back

Posted by in Poetry, Poetry, Ten Minutes, Writing

There’s eagerness
I’m grateful I’m not the only one

There has never been much hope for us
But I want to pour my heart out
Like a journal entry

We fish for these connections
                             hands wet in anticipation
So desperate to be loved
or understood

So weary of being 

only desired.


Poem: Last Night, a Blood Moon

Posted by in Poetry, Ten Minutes

Last night a blood moon
Super moon eclipse
I watched it dim through a double lens
Until sleep overtook me

We talked about the graptitude of the universe
And minutiae of our existence
Our bodies jutting out into space
And a billion stars-like ghosts lingering

Moons circling suns
Supernova magnetism
Our sun the center of
one of millions

And when the day arrives
Some things will be altered
And others destroyed
The earth folded up, heavens revitalized

We muse of the distance from our heavenly neighbors
Like seeing one another across galaxies of stars
And what if each had a planet to themselves?
Laughter and awe
Gaseous Venus, a paradise we never realized.

The air never cools
We could be out here all evening
And not a single secret of creation
Would ever be compromised

I yearn, in my smallness, to be held
As if at any moment I could float into space
Or dissolve into molecules
And return to the atmosphere

But there is only one chair,
so we talk instead
And I think how base is human love
How simple and unmesmerizing
When considered along side God’s love for His creation

How he hung the moon like a lamp
And painted the sun’s retiring
And gave us endless reflection
In the wide wide world
Insurmountable evidence
in the waves’ constant rising.

Free Write: Nothing of Consequence

Posted by in Motherhood Project, Poetry, Ten Minutes, Writing

The sun rises and the cat whines outside
I know his routine, but I choose to write.

There is a very long list of to-dos:
empty accounts, unpaid bills,
the responsibilities of parenthood
looming in soft little breaths
all around me.

Our home creaks for attention,
the subtle jingle of a ceiling fan
I need to fix,
pictures to hang,
that broken drawer…
most the food in boxes because I have yet
to line the cabinets,
sew bench cushions,
polish the floors.

And I know that he wants me,
The one slumbering
in the quiet of our room,
before blood flows like a barrier between us
And his desires are stalemated,
or frustrated
or lost.

But I decide to settle down to write.

Nothing of matter
Nothing of great consequence,
But the practice I will need to make it
matter someday.

The daily watering and reminder:

In your heart,
in your hands
                          is the seed of a writer,

(dishes, laundry, dinner, sex,
carpets, curtains, wall hooks,
plants, orders to fulfill, interest
to avoid, angry emails, lists, lists)

                                            help it grow.


Free Write: The Rain Goes

Posted by in Poetry, Ten Minutes, Writing

The rain goes
I cant   don’t pause

boxes of books to unload
old journals that weep

bad marriages
children we love
but didn’t want

It feels like I’m reading
someone else’s words
this poor girl,
she’ll never get out

how little she knows of
life and faith
her flickers of hope
are only flickers

its a wonder I’m still alive.

here is a new life and
I’m unpacking the past
page by page
the ink bleeding through
the other side
i would burn it up
but I refuse to forget

these men take so much from us
but return so little
hurt, misery, betrayal, and loss
its been six years with another
God knows, that girl would know
he’s better, but even he
has trampled my heart.


Poem: Phantom Limb

Posted by in Poetry, Poetry, Ten Minutes, Writing

Betrayal leaves the deepest scar
One we cannot see
Only feel     like a phantom limb
Hanging there invisibly

We stumble over it
Bang it on tables and chairs
Feel the pain radiating up
Through bones and skin

We reach down and
grasp at nothing
but air

All the grand reassurances and promises
Like thin gauze on a festering wound
Healing nothing
Only sticking to the sore

There is no salve for a limb
You cannot see
No bandage
No way to bind the flesh

It is pain that manifests in the body
from the mind
An aching that permeates out
from the heart

And blood flow will keep the memory fresh
pulsing and reminding:

You were betrayed;

You will never    forget.