poetry

Little Did I Know

multicolored abstract painting
Photo by Steve Johnson on Pexels.com

Little Did I Know

What you might see
on the surface
is not necessarily
what is so

Little did I know
when they took
an interest
in my heart
the beat of my heart would become their own
the rhythm of my song
would become their own
the splatter of my paint
would become their own

It was only when
I found out
I didn’t know who I was anymore

The light came on

My heart started a rhythm
to the song I owned
my paint became brilliant
to my own eyes

Little did I know
but I know now
it was the rhythm of the rain
that made me grow

…..
National Poetry Month Day 18 has been penned. Thanks to the prompt from
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides: “For today’s prompt, take the phrase “Little (blank),” replace the blank with a word or phrase, make the new phrase the title of your poem, and then write your poem. Possible titles include: “Little Guy,” “Little Richard,” “Little Mermaid,” “Little Italy,” and “Little Words That Pack a Big Punch.” I think if you think about it for a little bit, you’ll find a big (or little) poem to write.”

poetry

Always be Prepared

alone animal bird clouds
Photo by Gabriela Palai on Pexels.com

Always be Prepared

The weather person
predicts the weather
putting on my raincoat
or heavy coat
toting an umbrella
just in case

Always be prepared

Predictions may be based on science
but life has it’s own little quirks
where other matters
or not
of life
take over control
because we let them
or not

Don’t trust predictions
be prepared

My sister predicted
my heart would be broken
based on science
and maybe some sorted arts

Putting my life back together
I discovered
what works well

Don’t trust predictions
Always be prepared

…..
This is day #15 of National Poetry Month! I wrote to a prompt from
Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides
“For today’s prompt, write a prediction poem. Make a prediction. Write about another person’s correct or incorrect prediction. Or, you know, be unpredictable.”

poetry

Treasures of Life

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Art Work by Kayla

Treasures of Life

Folklore and such regard the number 13 as cursed but I say it’s not.
Have you ever found anything justify this to be true?
We had to write an essay about Friday the 13th and this was a mystery.
My baby brother was born five years after me; Mom bought him a t-shirt with the number 13, so there you go.
He was never less than anybody.
He was my heartbeat and each day with him was a treasure.

May I tell you about this boy I treasure?
When he was born, they gave me a choice to go to kindergarten or not.
I made the best choice of anybody.
The thought of having my little baby brother all to myself brought me such joy.
Nowhere was where I wanted to go.
Why anybody would not want such pleasure would be a mystery.

Something happened after my baby brother was born and it is a mystery.
While it was one of those unknowns of nature, it only made us realize that life is a treasure.
He had to have an operation to survive and give life a go.
There never was a negative, doubt or belief in the word of: not.
We all celebrated this precious boy, brought to this world to bring us such joy.
We would have loved if he didn’t have challenges, not to be wished on anybody.

All I knew is that I was as fortunate as anybody.
Although it would remain for us to solve the mystery.
It was important to celebrate each joy.
You learn just how much to treasure.
And deny those things which mean not.
For all the things that give you the go, go, go.

Mother had limits on how she could go.
She did not want to trouble anybody.
Complain, never one time did she, not.
Somehow it all worked like a mystery.
She taught us to care for children was a treasure.
She sang when she cleaned house, keeping time with her flip flops, such joy.

They taught us that life and children brought joy.
We learned that if we wanted to be somewhere, we had to find a way to go.
To have a soul in our hands was a treasure.
We were role modeled not to complain or brag about our lives to anybody.
To live is to accept that life has many a mystery.
And to give up on life is a great big not.

To treasure your life is to know perfect joy.
To never hear not is to know it’s all a great go.
If you ask me now if I could ever love anybody I can tell you that love is a mystery.

—–

Today’s National Poetry Month prompt is from Robert Lee Brewer’s Poetic Asides: for today’s prompt, write a lucky number poem. Some people have lucky numbers, some don’t. Wherever you fall on the lucky number spectrum, you can still write a poem about the phenomenon of lucky numbers and/or luck in general.

Inspired by Aruna Murumurthy and her lovely book of Sestina Poetry: Puppet Dolls, having participated in her Sestina workshop, I am trying to pen my first Sestina. To learn about Sestina you can go to Poetry Foundation or to Poetic Asides Each site has a slightly different point of view about the Sestina.