It’s National Poetry Month!

My favorite month after October, National Poetry Month gives me an excuse to overindulge in all of the poetry! I read even more than I normally do, and I try to write at least a few new poems instead of editing the life out of existing ones. I also love to share poems any way I can. My coworkers often come in to find a poem slipped under their office doors, or taped to their mailboxes. My goal for this year is to share a poem a day here as well as surprising my unsuspecting coworkers with random poems. We’ll see how I do. In the meantime, let’s kick off this beautiful month of literary magic!

What is a Poem by Amelia Freidline

i am arguing with myself

the worth of my writing

one part of me says yes!

this poem is good and true

and genuine and beautiful

it is heartfelt, artful, artless

the other part is not so sympathetic

but feels more honest

this poem is not bad, but it

is about you. where is the eternal,

the everlasting, the struggle of man

to find God in his breath-long life?

where is the weight of the world?

what is a poem? is this one?

is it merely an artful arrangement

of words with precious line breaks

and little to no punctuation?

does it require deliberate form

determined rhythm

a pre-destined end?

what is a poem that i should be given

the writing of one, or take

its writing upon me?

and how shall i answer

my own questions?

https://rabbitroompoetry.substack.com/p/ten-new-poems-about-writing-poetry

Don’t Let Me Grow Cold

Don’t Let Me Grow Cold by Nicole Kapise-Perkins

The teakettle’s whistling
is the music of sunrise musings:
when I was younger
I wanted to collect the stars.
I had a heart full of ghosts and strawberry daydreams;
I was a small-town girl with big dreams:
a carnival of stars would get me there,
I wouldn’t disappear like a glacier
waiting for summer,
instead I would become a wildflower woman.
The smell of autumn is locked behind my ribcage
like a child longing to be free,
bare feet on soft earth,
cardigan falling off a shoulder,
writing our names in the clouds to feel alive:
I am Sea Nymph, you be Woodland Witch.
Looking into a crystal ball
I see I am weathered by lost faith and heartache—
please don’t let me grow cold like this winter sky.
From the moment we met
I knew the path to heaven is paved with frozen tears
and haiku.

Feel the Night Change

Feel the Night Change

   By Nicole Kapise-Perkins

We meet, we talk, but I don’t know you.

Your eyes a flash of blue, bits of sky. I don’t

know how it came to be yours, the sky. Do you have

magic, that you command the very elements to

your being? I would like to be

yours as well. In the night’s deep quiet we will lie awake

and you will rename the stars, build new constellations to

fill me with awe and reverence. How safe I will feel

in your arms, by your side, whenever you say my name. The

monsters will cower, dazzled by your sky eyes shining so bright in the night.

As our seasons turn, will your skies change?

Inspired by Elmaz Abi-Nadir