This Week in Poetry #12: Mar 18-24, 2020
1
not feeling
the hermit life
for once
the day was decent
and i’d rather wallow
2
porch gecko
spiky feet on my hands
disappears
into plant shadows
good kitty
—march 18
3
kids shouting
quarantine time
or vacation?
4
sunny world
waking up to more
sickness
—march 19
5
wonky
wibbly day
snoring on the futon
6
two whole
days off
terrible toilet paper
7
beach closing—
boat running—
vulnerable people
—march 20
8
too much time
sitting
up early
9
midnight
beaches shut down—
at noon
the tourists
do what they like
—march 21
10
cherry blossoms
falling on
empty streets
—march 22
11
almost a non-day
just tired
waiting…
—march 23
12
crow commentary
a pair of hawks, there
no, there
—march 24
Notes for Week 12
When I looked at this week’s writings, the effects of the coronavirus pandemic were obvious: There were only four poems. Since I keep a near-daily journal, I decided to create some found poetry by taking words and phrases out of journal entries. Can you guess which poems are the original four, and which are found poems?
Poems 3, 4, 10, and 12 are the ones written during this week. The rest are found poems.
This Week in Poetry is an experiment in journaling through poetry, and sharing micro-moments of my life and writings, every week for a whole year. Thanks for coming along for part of the journey.
Heyo! If you liked this, you might also like my newsletter, where I’ll announce new blog posts and share fun things just for subscribers.
Photo Credits
Top photo: Aniq Danial
Bottom photo: Aneth Charles
This Week in Poetry #11: Mar 11-17, 2020
1
pink skin
from the bath
my head is filled
with stardust—
bookworm
2
westering sun
casts hard shadows
on the overpass
they remind me
of broccoli
—march 11
3
breathing
the same air
as flowers
—march 12
4
this tiny
piece of the universe
licking my hand
(kitty)
5
i wish
some things
were as pretty
as their names
(coronavirus)
6
seed fluffs
drifting over
already parched grass
—march 13
7
morning sunlight
and the sweet smell
of oak leaves
—march 14
8
the world
rushing indoors
to reach outward
welcome
to hermit life
9
a run of
insomniac nights
chomping holes
in my words
what a pest
10
making tea
while sipping
coffee
—march 9
11
from nowhere
the mysterious scent
of soy sauce
—march 16
12
world on
lockdown, everywhere
green leaves
—march 9
13
old man
ripping up weeds
on public sidewalk
how dare
that spring green
break up the cement?
(quarantine)
—march 17
This Week in Poetry is an experiment in journaling through poetry, and sharing micro-moments of my life and writings, every week for a whole year. Thanks for coming along for part of the journey.
Heyo! If you liked this, you might also like my newsletter, where I’ll announce new blog posts and share fun things just for subscribers.
Photo Credits
Top photo: Crystal de Passillé-Chabot
Bottom photo: Gerrie van der Walt
This Week in Poetry #10: Mar 4-10, 2020
1
listening
to a musician on music
over lawn equipment
groping
my way through the dark
word by word
(illumination)
2
into the silence
first cup of butterscotch tea
and a distant seagull
—march 5
3
empty night
waiting for
the rain
—march 6
4
quiet Saturday
daring
to open my curtains
5
all that time
taking care
of others—
i have forgotten
how to be
—march 7
6
time change—
wondering when
I lost myself
7
pale mirror
reflecting leaves
—teacup
—march 8
8
a bright morning
for hearing deep news
9
living
a constant stream
of lawn maintenance sounds
10
fluffy bath mat
hot hot water
first-world solutions
—march 9
This Week in Poetry is an experiment in journaling through poetry, and sharing micro-moments of my life and writings, every week for a whole year. Thanks for coming along for part of the journey.
Heyo! If you liked this, you might also like my newsletter, where I’ll announce new blog posts and share fun things just for subscribers.
Photo Credits
Top photo: Ochir-Erdene Oyunmedeg
Bottom photo: Phebe Tan
This Week in Poetry #9: Feb 26-Mar 3, 2020
1
soft rain
the endless march of
novels continues
soft rain
still hidden away
in my shell
(hermit)
—february 26
2
weary eyes
fighting a sleepless battle
for this story
3
dark clouds—
flat holes
in a tangerine sky
—february 27
4
sweet lemonade sunlight
pouring in the windows
the novel nearly complete
5
this quiet dark
broken by the shining
of a book light
—february 29
6
year’s first
mockingbird song
open window
7
whishing traffic
punctuated by the question mark
of a water droplet
8
this evening
is the sky made of
candy or watercolors?
—march 1
9
laying out
the future
infinity of words
—march 2
10
hairy man
across the pool
reading Catch-22
on my side
I write poems
—march 3
Notes for Week 9
There’s a rather bookish bent to this week’s poems, isn’t there? It wasn’t planned that way; rather, it was a happy discovery when I looked at my notebook to compile the entry. Sometimes the currents of our lives only show up in hindsight.
This Week in Poetry is an experiment in journaling through poetry, and sharing micro-moments of my life and writings, every week for a whole year. Thanks for coming along for part of the journey.
Heyo! If you liked this, you might also like my newsletter, where I’ll announce new blog posts and share fun things just for subscribers.
Photo Credits
Top photo: Max Rovensky
Bottom photo: Emilio Garcia
This Week in Poetry #8: Feb 19-25, 2020
1
bleeding
too much
makes words
run dry
—february 21
2
long night
beyond the window
someone laughs
3
i will always
remember how you
misspelled me
4
overpass wall
stretching white and clean
past my front door
online a neighbor froths
about the graffiti
5
reluctantly
contemplating showers—
not wanting
to miss the sun
6
stale tea,
worry not
thou art
still drinkable
—february 23
7
if human eyes
needed no rest
I would devour
all the world’s stories
8
neighbor’s sneeze
louder than mine
worn-out weather stripping
9
the jittery impatience
of having things to do
and not doing them
—february 24
10
dark oaks
wave their fingers at
wispy sky
11
silent afternoon
the faintly shining streets
a surprise
—february 25
This Week in Poetry is an experiment in journaling through poetry, and sharing micro-moments of my life and writings, every week for a whole year. Thanks for coming along for part of the journey.
Heyo! If you liked this, you might also like my newsletter, where I’ll announce new blog posts and share fun things just for subscribers.
Photo Credits
Top photo: Wil Stewart
Bottom photo: reza shayestehpour