Naked Reflections Poetry: Shameless and Unapologetic

Tag Archives: Poetry

Transitions

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Today’s Prompt was a picture of a sculpture in the snowy woods. I focused on the slow process of death.

Transitions

 

She begins transitioning

From life to death

The process creeps

Like a slow morphine drip

 

Sentences shorten

To phrases

Phrases to mumbles

Mumbles to silence

 

Movement loses fluidity

Like a toddler’s first steps

No muscles pulling and pushing

Only bruised flaccid flesh

 

Until lying in a bed is all

Her dying body can do

In silence and waiting

For her soul to rise, free.

Hands I Miss

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Today’s Prompt: What thoughts do you have about hands?

Hands I Miss

Zoom’s hand-raise feature

No substitute for dirty pink palms

For the bobbing up and down

In the middle of my lesson

 

Zoom’s hand-raise feature

Some use it sparingly, like salt

Others keep it up constantly

Like my pressure after lunch

 

Zoom’s hand-raise feature

No substitute for sweaty smudgy skin

Or the open hand in the camera

Or a sweet voice saying, “Ooo, ooo!!”

To the Beat of Unity

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Prompt: Write a poem about bodies dancing. I watched a clip of Gregory Hines from White Knights to inspire my poem. I used the form “abacadaba” also known as the Magic 9 poem.

To the Beat of Unity

Grooving to the same song inside

Arms and legs sync tight and smooth

One clap, one tap, glide

One sound, two bodies in love


Come, world let music be your guide

Reflecting each other in unison

Stomp out hate, the pulse of your pride

Let spirit rhythms heal and soothe

America, rise up, let’s dance outside

Memories of Mondays

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My Grandmother, Patsy Ann McPherson

Memories of Mondays

On Monday’s Chili Night
We’d drive down the hill
From our house to Nana’s
For a delectable family dinner
And bellies brimming with love
Five long miles later
Her old wooden door ajar for air and us
Enough to let the spices pique
We knew
It was a two-bowl night
A two-tortillas-and-cheese-on-top night
Some added Tabasco and black pepper
Nana’s Chili, always just right to me
Scooting up close to the table
My chin parked on the doily mat
All that good stuff
Nana’s family spread
Her “good bowls and plates”
Rolled up napkins because she’s fancy
Punch bowl ladle we couldn’t touch
Because our hands were wreckless
Mommie and Nana side by side
My sister and I eye to eye
Stepdad and cousin head the table
We’d eat
And laugh and talk
Joke about what Nana forgot to make this time
The cornbread or the salad
We would serve up round two
We’d eat again
And laugh and talk
I’d watch and remember
And make Chili Beans on a Monday night
Thirty years later

February’s Writing Challenge: Day 2 “What I Want Is…”

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What I want is

A backyard with a lap pool

 

For daily swims and summer luxuries

What I want is

 

Two chocolate Australian Labradoodles

Who wait for me each morning

 

Through my garden path, we walk

Up to the clearing on the hill

 

Where the ocean view welcomes us

Before I sit on my meditation mat

 

Basking in gratitude and blessings

Giving God all praise and thanks

 

For sunshine, salty breezes, and lavender

For intentional breathing, and stillness, and joy

 

What I want is

Peace that surpasses all understanding

 

That shields and guides my path

Back to my home where love abides

 

Where journals and books await my hands

Where inspiration flows beside the fountain at my back door

 

Where I write, read, and live the way I want

Have what I want and when I want it.

February’s 5-Day Writing Challenge: Twenty Questions Poem

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This poem is dedicated to every young woman who thinks she’s fabulous and has no fear of aging.

 

Why didn’t anyone warn me?

No one talked about aging the way they talked about puberty

Didn’t they know we wouldn’t fear lean muscles and high sex drives?

Why didn’t I know the bra I prayed for would become a daily chokehold?

Why didn’t I know my natural libido would require replacing?

What happened to energy and enthusiasm to      M     o      V          e?

Why is staying asleep each night harder than falling asleep at a matinee?

Where did my muscles go?

Are they hiding inside my bones?

When did my arms start flapping?

And why are my thighs CLAPPING?

 

Why didn’t anyone warn me?

Hair down there would grow wilder?

And getting waxed would become more rattling than a root canal?

Who’s face is this?

Did my grandmother sneak inside my soul?

Is my mother reincarnated in me?

Who’s ass is this all bagged up like cotton balls?

Does my back ache because it’s finished with standing up for me?

Do my feet hurt because they’re tired of walking in my shoes?

Why didn’t anyone warn me the way I am warning you?

Wait, what were we talking about?

November’s 5-Day Writing Challenge: Day 1 “My Nana’s Kitchen”

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My Nana’s kitchen

Jam-packed

10 x 10

Painted in holiday memories

Turkey 

“Help me pull the innards out.”

Stuffing 

“We have to burn the toast first.”

Rice Dressing 

“Use the grinder for the onions and peppers.”

Candied Yams 

“Have you seen my marshmallows?”

Ham 

“Stick the cloves in.”

Green beans 

“You need to eat your vegetables.”

Mustard Greens

“Everyone loves my greens except you.”

Mincemeat pie

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

Icebox cookies

“Stir the batter the right way!”

Fudge

“It has to melt all the way down.”

And her fizzy foamy fruit punch

Mixed with rainbow sherbet

Pineapple juice

And 7-up

In her antique punch bowl

“You better not break my cups.”

My Nana’s kitchen

Steeped in

Love

Family

Recipes

Life

Where I wondered 

if her cigarette ashes

ever fell into the greens

and the pie

Or if the food stuck to her dress

was from last year

or from when my Mommie was little

Where I couldn’t question her

because it was not appropriate

I had to trust her

because she was my Nana

Writing from a Picture: October’s Writing Challenge #1

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Imagining You

At 6:28

You stretched your old wobbly arms

Across autumn’s fiery sky

To find a quiet place

Where your crinkled crackly hands

Could touch both of your daughters’ hearts

You reached past a zillion grains of sand

Above dirty blankets swaddling homeless bones

Over salty hair flying in the evening breeze

On winding paths where bicycles whizzed by

And mothers towed tired children towards home

The sun’s gradual disappearance

Echoed how you silently slipped away

But its warmth and peace

Reminded us that what goes away eventually returns

We faced each other

And there you were

In our eyes

Looking right at us

Ancestral Dreams (Choose art for Hispanic Heritage Month and write a poem that speaks to the artist’s work.)

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My poem was inspired by Carlos Almaraz’s pastels on paper called, “I Dreamed I Could Fly.” © 1986, Carlos Almaraz Estate

"I Dreamed I Could Fly" Carlos Almaraz, 1986

 

Ancestral Dreams

Standing tall and old
in front of my childhood home
was the tree that held the faces
of relatives long gone
of ancestors in chains
who called out to me
soundless
hands reaching
with love
eyes like guiding lights

Divine powers cloaked me
into sacred sap
down to invisible roots
“Fear not the flames
Nor the storms.”
Fires burned rooftops
Smoke billowed from windows
But heaven’s hallowed haze
Shifted to show me myself
Flying and free.

Chocolate, a Relative, and a Diploma (a 3-Elements poem)

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Everyone graduated from college

My village of educated relatives

Framed diplomas adorning our walls from

The UC’s, the Cal States, and the HBCUs

 

But no one talked about

The pain or the insanity

Of trying to fit into petite square boxes

With our plump chocolate hips

 

No one sat us in the family circle

To discuss how divisions

Destroyed mama and daddy

And how he never wanted her to work

 

And we walked on cat’s feet past the door

Where mama’s light began to dim

Where her song shallowed

And daddy always left at night.