NaPoWriMo: Days 29 and 30

Favorite Colors

My favorite color

is that particular shade

when a full moon shines

on marine layer fog,

fragmented blue rainbows,

blue-purple clean-sweet coolness

like the best spring water,


with a dash

of starlight

like labradorite,

alexandrite that opal fire

on a cobalt background.

That color of a dream,

color of home

at nighttime

when you lie in bed


for sleep to come

while the moon peers in pale

through the window, white like scared

except that it isn’t,

not even at all.

Pre-dawn stillness

of a starry early 5:00 April morning

in the 50s,


and only the blue call

of a bluebird

serenading the silence.

Yes, that’s my favorite

color. Now, if only

I could bottle it up

and spray it,

that would be

my favorite scent;

at least, that would be so

if it wasn’t already

that lovely smell of….

Rain On Roof

Rain taps out

Morse code sign language

for calm,

no te preocupas

de nada,

“Don’t you worry about anything,

do not fear,

rest well:

I am watching through this night.”

It’s the last day of NaPoWriMo.

I wish the sun was out so I could watch it set, but only a little. It’s such a lovely evening, all that rain and fog draped over the mountain. It’s wonderful writing weather, except…the month’s over. I can’t believe it. Can you? Already? Oh well. How fitting that these last two poems are filled with nighttime.

Rain at night is beautiful, especially when it’s warm and misty outside, and you hear only rain falling. No, frogs do not count as fog, there’s that extra “r” in there. Extra “r”s are important; they’re the difference between “he” and “her” and “h”, “hee” and “here”. They croak way, way too loudly to be fog. Anyway, heading back to the rain–I think I’ve written about it as many times (or more) than I’ve written about fog. Every poet has a thing that they write about a lot, or that they think they do; some people have cows, I have fog, my old creative writing teacher had eyebrows…you get the point. Whatever your thing is, it inspires you a lot. In fact, that happens to be a prompt that I thought of as I wrote that rain poem: write about what you write about a lot, but try to see it in a way you’ve never seen it before.

Tough, inspiring, and fun.

The first poem is a mini prompt I gave myself: write about a favorite color, but use abstract thoughts that can’t have colors. You know, along the same line as colors of the wind. Hey, the work just as well. Doesn’t everyone agree that love is red or pink or whatever? And that envy is green? Joy yellow? Yet you also know the color of home, family, hatred, sweltering summer days, school…rainy nights during a full moon…things like that. Golden spring mornings. Rich, textured, orangey fall afternoons. Anything and everything that you can see has a brilliant color.

 I’ve hit so many milestones this month, and I’m so glad and grateful to you–my readers–for making that happen. I hit 100 followers on April  th, and got 30 more in far less time than any other 30; I had a new record best day for followers this month; I’ve gotten nice comments from several readers; and this is my 199th post, so if I’d stayed on track I would’ve hit 200 this month, too. Thanks to everyone for supporting my poetry this month! I hope if a prompt I gave inspired any poetry, then you’ll share it with me in the comments.

Happy end of NaPoWriMo!



NaPoWriMo: Days 21, 22, and 26

Word Magnets

There was one whisper tongue

of raw spring

like life-spray,


with languid luscious day;

lazy moon


with smooth diamond music.

April Shower Night

Dark gurgling shadows

of green-blue-black

wet with rain

and river water; heavy

with water,

The air

lies close,

like after-shower steam

but better,

because it isn’t hot.

Sleigh-bell jingle

jangle spring peepers,

unable to sing

when those bells do;

their replacement.

Now they croak melodies

into the darkening night,

skin damp

like the air.

Deep blue sky

shot with faint sunset shine

through patches of heavy

rain-clouds, punctuated

by silver sapphire stars, sparking.

Piercing Clouds

Sunlight reach

across valley, shafts through broken clouds;


behind every blade

of grass, put fire

in every  rain-soaked stone,

soggy bough,

slick buds. Touch the flowers

with their heads bowed in misery

from the cold rain,

cup their chin

and raise

their gaze

to meet yours, bright daffodil eyes

gold and shining rain-glimmer

with adoration.

Lance of fire,

why are you hotter now,

gold-er now, fierce pale glow

filled with rainbow in your every

sun-drip drip-drop golden gray yellow blue

raindrops of gentle joy.

It’s good to see your smile

after winter’s bitter jaws.

Ka-way-too-busy-till-late-in-night. -.- I sigh with regret and sorrow at my inability to keep my commitment to blogging. Who knew that my internet would be too slow for a day, too? Or that I would be stricken with allergies-slash-cold? Oh well…at the very least I haven’t given up yet!

Here have arrived those April showers that will hopefully end up bringing gobs of May flowers. Yes, gobs of them. I love wildflowers; they’re so…wildflower-y! I really wish I could skip through allergy season, though. They’re definitely not fun! I mean, pretty blooms and new leaves are all very well, but do they really have to spew their pollen everywhere like a (pollen) fire hose set on projectile vomit? (Ew)

 Aaaah, there are only four days left to NaPoWriMo. Can you believe it? Where did it all go? Maybe it seemed so fast because it was so hard to stay caught up this year. I haven’t had time for all the prompts I wanted to try, and the poems I wanted to write…and all the days I didn’t want to miss, of course. Every April, though I end up with at least twenty new poems that had never existed before and more than the previous year. I hope the same goes for you.

I didn’t really use a specific prompt for the poems above. Well, except for the first, Word Magnets. That comes from a set of magnetic words specifically geared for inspiring poetry (more specifically, these). If you don’t happen to have some of those to play around with, grab a newspaper (or a book with a bunch of cool words in it). Close your eyes and pick random words; then cut them out or just write them out into a poem, which would be an option I would prefer to use if I was using a book. Sometimes you get really intelligible poetry, but even that can sound much deeper than you initially intended it to be. Those kinds of poems are always fun, because later you come back to it and go, “Wow” when you had no clue what it meant earlier. Random word barf is strange that way.

Stay allergy-free!


Gray, Orange, Yellow, and Red: Fall With Rain

Drip, Slip

The gray

slipping through the leaves,

a backdrop of tea against colors so vivid

that you’d swear they’re burning

through the rain.

Deeper, brighter, stronger,

as the crystal falls and drips

and slips,

so slow,



from a swollen sky, bloated, gray,

and airbrushed in patches

of blue.

The earth too grows thick and swollen

and oozes, can’t take any more,

pooling in puddles of gray and streams

of paint running downhill.

The gray slips and falls and drips,

tears for yesterdays

and what have beens

as it cleans the slate

for tomorrows and will bes,

and the will bees

that buzz,

sedated, wondering why

they’re flying in the rain.

Well, fall is definitely here and there is rain falling through the bright leaves. It’s such an awesome effect; it makes the color so much brighter! This poem was written rather randomly–don’t you get those times where you’re waiting and you just write something on a piece of paper that you have lying about with you? I haven’t had one in a while.

Guess what’s coming? NaNoWriMo, baby! Time for my fellow writers to bust up as they attempt to write 50,000 words in thirty days, a staggering task for any mortal. That’s 1,666 words a day, if you’d rather not do the math, and all you writers out there know what that much in a novel is easy-peasy lemon squeezy. Mmmm-hmmm, yeah, try that every single day. For thirty days. Through Thanksgiving, and work days, and those days where you just feel like banging your head on the keyboard in agitation.

Guess what’s also here! Cider! And cider donuts! One of mankind’s greatest inventions! Yup, fall is nothing without cold cider, pumpkins, pie, leaves, corn, and Starbucks. And every single party store that you pass telling you to BUY YOUR COSTUME NOW AND SAVE SOME BIG MONEY THAT REALLY ISN’T THAT MUCH IT’S ONLY 10% BUT WHO CARES IT HAS THE WORD SAVE IN IT! More or less the representation of many store windows around the holidays. I love deals. 5% isn’t anything to bust a gut over. 10% is neat. 20% is pretty good. 30% is worth checking out. 40% is great, but watch the wallet buddy. 50% is something to get out and check out. 60% is time to slow down the bus and take a role call. 70% is stop-the-train what have we here time. 80% is jump overboard let’s get happy. 90% is oh sweetness they’re either insane or going out of stock. 100% is how far off topic I’ve gone (plus the point where you’re surprised but numb to all joys) by now.

It’s a good thing that orange, yellow, and red look knock-out gorgeous with gray because too many fall days are cloudy. Especially with whatever mild storm just fluttered by. It sure did leave some incredible clouds clinging to the mountains across the valley. Fall is just a STUNNING season, especially when you get to ignore the wooly bear caterpillars’ Halloween coloration because the nonexistent black band is starting to freak you out. I know, I’m in for a really cold winter. But it’s not winter yet! It’s fall, which means there’s still time to get outside, find a moss-covered rock, and get down to writing more poetry–or the plot for my NaNoWriMoNovel.


Rainbows, Rain, and Mas Espanol (More Spanish)

Mujer Mejor

No estoy perfecta, (I am not perfect)

pero mi amor: (but my love)

lo me construye mejor, (It builds me better)

mejor que antes. (better than before)

Antes hoy (Before today)

estoy (I am)

en mi personalidad (in my personality)

fea, no feliz, (ugly, not happy)

cruel a todo circademe. (cruel to all around me)

Pero hoy, (but today)

contigo, (with you)

con el amor tuyo (with the love of yours)

que te dame (that you give me)

estoy hoy (I am today)

una mujer mejor, (a better woman)

una mujer con pasion (a woman with passion)

una mujer con razon (a woman with reason)

estar vivando, (to be living)

todo porque (all because)

te andas en mi corazon (you walk into my heart)

y te abrazas la buena y la mala (and you embrace the good and the bad)

juntos. (together)

Playing with a few Spanish words, I came up with this little poem. It went from no estoy perfecta to talking about how “I” was a horrible person but now I’m better because of you. Isn’t that nice of me to say?

Why yes, I think it is. Thank you.

You’re welcome–wait, what?

Never mind.

Sorry that I skipped last week, and since it was Christmas Eve I’m sure you all expected me to talk about something snowy or Christmasy or something of the like and were extremely surprised to see that I didn’t. I was feeling a little under the weather (which is a slight play on words, since it was rainy here on Christmas Eve)

Due to the usual amount of precipitation around where I live, the clouds have been forming some gor-geous colors and patterns in the sky. The most interesting thing, I find, is that on the north side of my house when there are many puddles and the sun is behind some clouds the puddles reflect my yard. They also reflect the blueness. After it rains the water turns everything blue, even the reds. Everything gets that cobalt or germainium blue that…well, doesn’t look out of place after a rain storm, to tell the truth.

One afternoon after a particularly heavy shower there was a blazing rainbow that lasted for at least twenty minutes. I’m not exaggerating here! And when I say ‘blazing’, I mean it was so intense that it could have cast shadows…almost. Seeing the colors reflected in the puddles on the aforementioned northern side of my house was dazzling. Seeing the rainbow ‘end’ in my house was even more dazzling!

I took a walk during that rainbow because it was so beautiful. When I came to the edge of the river near where I live I had an unobstructed view of the clouds and the last vestiges of the rainbow. Sunset had turned every color, even the blues and greens, into reds and magentas! It was like a tiny sunset on the east side. The rainbow arced out of gray and purple clouds like ugly (but in this case very pretty) bruises. Towards the ocean I could see the hazy downward strokes of rain as it fell on the shore. Behind me, towards the real sunset, was sherbet-colored light on blue clouds. To the north clouds gathered and bunched up as they passed over the mountains like a ton of sheep trying to jump over the same fence post at the same time. The little park nearby was filled with blues and darkened greens.

Rainshowers darken every color. When the light hits the soaked leaves and grass it creates a beautiful gold-green-blue color. I really do suggest taking a walk after every shower to somewhere near a body of water where you have a clear view of the sky. You’ll wish you had twelve of every sense so you could catch the complexity of every detail and even the smells…smells! You can catch car fumes, rain, grass, soil, water, flowers, fresh air, lightning, solitude, and so many more different scents. Compared to the cream-colored and dull indoor air, after-rain scent-amplified air is like a noisy, gaudy silk blanket next to burlap. It should be a perfume. I’d buy it.

I hope you had a delightful holiday season, whatever you celebrate. 😀

Oh, and the rainbow unicorns send their love, too.


National Poetry and Writing Month: Friday the 13th!

Today’s poem is “Raining” in honor of the intense amount of rain I’ve been getting. Did you miss a few poems and want to check them all out? Read here. Want to keep track as they come out? Subscribe!

You may not have noticed what today was, but today’s special…or should I say, dangerous? It’s Friday, sure, but not any ordinary Friday. No, it’s simply Friday the 13th! Buckle down the hatches! Remain in bed all day and get fast-food to avoid mishaps! (Not really, that’s just for drama…)

There has been a lot of rain and wind today, no doubt a storm by the amount of water that’s coming down. My patio, which has a feeble cover, seems to have no dry space on it. Since rain is an extremely inspiring object for poems, I wrote about it. Here’s the poem:



pouring from the sky as from a broken pipe,

drenching the ground.

A pause, seeming as if it was done.

For hours,

no more rain, just clouds.


it begins again,

running down the window panes.

Wind billows the water in mist,

the patio and street,

even the air itself,

literally under-water.

Faster and faster the raindrops fall,

the water at least an eighth of an inch deep on the sidewalk,

splattering in huge drops.

The neighbor’s gutter can barely control the flow of water,

gushing over their roof.


lightning lances from the sky,

flashing down like a pike by my eyes.

I fall back in surprise,

startled by the closeness of it all,

waiting breathlessly for the count of seconds for distance.

Two, four, six, eight,

there, ten moments,

the strike was actually quite far away.

The roar of thunder,

like a half-tamed lion,

tumbles through the sky like a knocked over trashcan.

Nowhere outdoors is dry,

thunder alternating with flashes,

rain pounding the cement, you’d think there’d be erosion!

The streets start to flood,

cars slowly turning into boats,

No one is out at the moment.

All I hear is water,

just rushing,

and rushing,




I hear it dripping,

and dripping,

and dripping,




I smell it everywhere,

coating every available surface outside that could possibly be wet,

even seeping beneath pots and running under bushes.

The only place dry is my home,

where I witness this event,

and watch the


Rain, and water in particular, are some of the most inspiring things for me. Water to me is just…wow. Words do not say unless they’re in a poem. Speaking of poems, what about short ones? “I look at the sky,/seeing white, wispy pictures:/Pictures from a dream.” That’s a simple haiku. A few words in that sound strange make you pause and think. They show you things in a different way sometimes. That may be my manifestation of imagination tomorrow, who knows? In the future, we’ll know, but then there won’t be a use for the information.

More than three-quarters of our planet is made up of water. You are made up mostly of water. Therefore, all people feel some sort of attraction to or appreciation of water. It’s beautiful, it has interesting laws of physics, and it’s one of the few substances that can exist in “all” three forms of matter: gas (water vapor), liquid (obviously water), and solid (ice). (Note that these are not all forms of matter, since there are four: plasma is a completely different form of matter, but water is never found in the state of plasma) Your challenge for the day is to look at water, in any form, doing anything: dripping, running, sitting, falling, being drunk…write a haiku about what you see and how you see it. Use the word “Water” and the word “mine” in it at least once in context. These rules may seem like they’re extremely strict and tight like size-four pants, but your haiku is not going to be Shakespeare. A haiku is simple. A haiku doesn’t use very many words. But haikus are deep and can get meaning across more thoroughly than even the most specified description.

Just trying to explain things makes too many words get in the way and take you away from the basic meaning.


N.P.W.M. Days 24 and 25

More poems! Yipee!

Summer Is Coming

Warm days,

warm nights,

sun setting at eight,

warm smell outdoors.

Easter has passed,

Migratory birds are back.

Soon we can have barbeques,

and beach runs,

water-park adventures and

slip and slide crashes.

All-day movie marathons,

all day computer marathons.

But now

we wait,

with warm weather

and sunscreen-coated skin.


This one I wrote earlier today, but I forgot most of it, and I lost the paper upon which it was written. I called it:


A true tempest bears down on our town,

bringing rain and wind to rip up the trees,

and soon all are left with a long, long frown,

as the rain of bright weather does tease.


For threescore and twelve hours,

the rain came down in a rush,

but, in greenhouses, flowers.

Without the sun, trying to flush.


For three days rain came down, drops just huge and round,

pouring and pouring without any rest.

now those same clouds are heaped in such tall mounds

fading and moving swiftly to the west.


Okay, so it’s not my best work. But it’s what I could remember from what I’ve written.

DID YOU NOTICE that my posts seem to be getting shorter and shorter as I post my poems? Disturbing. Very, very disturbing.

I always love your feedback. Thanks for your comments and like-button clicks!