Veronica

Day two of Napowrimo. Been a rough couple of days around here. Somehow, I have been lucky enough to be with this woman.

Veronica

Only here can

I find someone

to listen, not bark

at shadows, run

for cover.

I unveil darkness,

you lean close;

I stumble,

you reach out.

You sort me

like the cherry

sorts blossoms,

like the sky

catalogues clouds.

Only here have
I found someone.

Veronica

Missed a poem last night. Stayed up very late with an old, good friend. Was worth it. Tired tonight, but Veronica suggested a Haiku. "They're short," she said, implying that as a poet, I must write them easily and well. In fact, I have never even attempted writing a Haiku. Until tonight. After much-researched time into what exactly a Haiku was and what one should attempt to put into one, here's my first stab at it:

Currant abundance –

Woman of autumn past smiles

lies near me asleep.

Breathe

Here's day twenty-four's: submission for NaPoWriMo (a poem a day for the month of April in honor of National Poetry Month):

Breathe

Clock’s tickin’.

Can’t you hear your heart beat?

Count your breaths for the next minute:

how many?

What are you doing right now?

If those breaths quit

on the next one,

would you be glad you stopped

right then?

Would it be okay?

Or would you say,

“Shit. If only I’d known.”

Because we don’t.

Know.

None of us.

We guess at our odds,

plan for more

than we ever get.

I feel lucky already.

But I wouldn’t want to go out

playing video games.

I’d rather I was lying next to you

your arm draped over me

your eyes locked on mine.

Veronica

Here's day sixteen's submission of NaPoWriMo (a poem a day for the month of April in honor of National Poetry Month):

Veronica



You, of all people, know:
I have been a fisherman,
a hoodlum,
a photographer,
a thief,
a teacher,
a liar,
a father,
a murderer - just not of people,
a lover,
a child,
husband,
student,
a cheat,
reckless,
responsible,
educated,
and ignorant.

I have played,
worked,
cried,
screamed,
raged,
loved,
fought,
kissed a grandchild,
raised two sons
with you,
hugged our dogs,
driven away in anger,
laughed,

and slept with one hand
on your back,
and the other
on the cat's.


But, knowing full well
all you held,
you still looked at me tonight
as I told you how
I wish my mom
hadn't been the alcoholic she was
with tears in my eyes,
my voice breaking,
and pulled me to you.