Naked Reflections Poetry: Shameless and Unapologetic

Tag Archives: Breath

I’m From (Day 12 of 30)

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Today’s prompt: Write a Where I’m From poem. I have been writing these for a long time, so it was refreshing to write a new one with different content.

I’m From

I’m from “Put your hands on your hips

And let your backbone slip!”

From my mother’s strong legs and thick thighs

To wide smiles and dark brown eyes

I’m from four generations of freckles and moles

To “Stop combing your hair so much and maybe it’ll grow.”

I’m from Gloria and Jay

Both graduates of U.C.L.A.

I’m from playing school and wanting to teach

To walking on the sink to get things out of my reach

I’m from Are You My Mother?

To Are You There, God? It’s Me Margaret

I’m from creating a hidden reading room in a linen closet

To card-table tents and Barbie campers

I’m from a big yellow house on a hill in “The Dons”

To pool parties and Slip ‘n Slide scratches on my knees 

From backyard baby showers and Christmas Brunch

To classy Bridge players and domino dads talkin’ trash

I’m from Hopscotch and laggers on the side of the house

To a daring first kiss that made me shiver and spit

I’m from Nestle Quik’s chocolate bubbles floating in my milk

To Gogo Burgers and Tito’s Tacos with guacamole

From burnt cheese toast and El Patio Mexican restaurant

To sardines and crackers after Saturday morning waffles

I’m from Nana’s Monday night Russian Bank and Pokeno

To Mommie’s badminton matches on Sunday mornings in the gym

I’m from “Drive safely and don’t stay out too late”

To cheerleading at Friday night football games and Shakeys after

From “You will not be driving for 2 more weeks”

To senior prom and graduation parties past curfew

I’m from “Mommie, I think I’m pregnant”

To sedation at a clinic plagued with regrets

I’m from growing up and moving out 

To dorms, apartments and owning my condo

From married with two children and too many jobs too young

To divorced, grateful, and balanced 

I’m from the suffering of my mother’s and father’s cancer

To the resurrection of hope and joy after grief

I’m from struggle, suffering, injustice, and inequalities

To taking a stand, sitting in, and marching onward

I’m from knowing my ancestors had it harder than us

To trusting that God is still the same today and always

I’m from poetry, chalk, protests, and music

I’m from breath and spirit 

I’m from love.

Nightmares (Day 3, an Etheree Poem)

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An Etheree Poem follows a syllable pattern of 1-10 per line for a 10-Line poem.

Nightmares

Dreams

Return

Tidal waves

Swallowing me

Whole. No lifeguards out

Swimming in slow motion

Breathe one last breath before death

Screaming, gulping, emerge, crying

I awaken to a damp pillow

Wipe wet eyes and pray, “Stop COVID19.”

Joy for Humanity (Day 2 of April’s #Verselove Writing)

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Today’s prompt: Write a Blitz Poem with 50 lines and follows the pattern of repetition.

Joy for Humanity

Honoring life’s complexities
Honoring grief and joy
Joy in moments
Moments of solitude
Moments of gratitude
Gratitude for life
Gratitude attitudes heal
Heal anxious doubts
Heal the broken-hearted
Broken-hearted grandparents
Broken-hearted students
Students missing school
Students who suffer
Suffer without interactions
Suffer at home
Home but lonely
Home isn’t safe
Safe is relative
Safe isn’t equitable
Equitable for whom
Equitable provisions fail
Fail education
Fail our children
Children within the gaps
Children starving for love
Love is an action
Love their teachers gave
Gave without expectations
Gave when exhausted
Exhausted is normalized
Exhausted rat-race life
Life prescribed in dosages
Life balanced on edges
Edges of insanity
Edges of faith
Faith to jump
Faith now wavering
Wavering into fear
Wavering back to God
God knows all
God sees all
All the wrong
All the grace
Grace during suffering
Grace for humanity
Humanity being tested
Humanity on hold
Hold for safety
Hold your breath
Breath is life

Day 3 of The 30-Day Poem

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Day 3

HandsOnHealing

I’m giving myself a chance

to dance again

to smile

or cry

thawing frozen feelings

reviving dead emotions

I never meant to bury.

Finding my gift of happiness

where welts warped its golden shroud

bows untied

releasing quiet pleasures

once trapped and tangled

stifled in shame

hearing my own laughter

I’ll never be the same.

Holding my hands

in prayer

holding my breath

in fear

holding my own

in preparation

for the day when you

finally fly

solo.