Going on 15

The pit of a peach 

is buried in my stomach

acid-pocked and embedded 

in the lining

Or maybe it's just 

the nausea and the impending

worry that I will never 

figure out who I want to be 

when I grow up

NaPoWriMo

Hello, imaginary readers of my poetry blog! You'll be pleased to know that I intend to write 30 poems in 30 days starting in April.

Because April is National Poetry Month and that's my favorite month of the year- when tree pollen isn't having their way with my sinuses. Learn more about awesome activities for National Poetry Month by visiting Poets.org's fabulous website. Fabulous activities they are hosting include (but are not limited to): poem in a pocket, Dear poet, and 30 more ways to celebrate.

If I remember, I'd like to try committing a new poem to memory. I'll be picking something from here. Perhaps...

Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802
William Wordsworth 

Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

I have listed my blog at NaPoWriMo and I'm using Camp NaNoWriMo to help keep me motivated and connected to my friends who are also participating in a 30 day writing challenge (Hi Sleazer and Michelle!)

Oh, maybe I'll make some youtube videos!

I don't know man, let's have fun with this!

Easter poeeeem

Your first Peep of Easter, 

A bright thing that melts

and sticks to the roof of 

your mouth, a child's comfort

that you put away for 

healthy greens and carrots

and thin slices of lamb

But I like memory of you

when you were a bright thing, 

a ruddy-cheeked smile split from

dimple to dimple and I miss 

the way you found laughter

simply in holding hands or

the way odd clouds at sunset.

When you get lost in the forest-

I found two sinkholes

and ran to the crest of a hill

Just to see the valley on the other side

I bounced up a rock-lined trail

and ran my fingers down limestone stairs

and remembered how to fill my lungs and my belly

how to run in the March winds until the deer trail ends