Day Thirty: Fade Away

A last word to leave you with
although this will not be
my last poem

Just the end of a game
a challenge

So until next year,
or until you glimpse
One of my notebooks
I will say goodbye
and goodnight

Day Twenty-nine: Rework (I'll be by 'round 5)

A timid knock
A shy blush
His gentle touch
and a wave to show the room

An offered drink
Some halting conversation
Their boldness lost in their desire

She reached up
hesitated
Then found the back of his neck
pulling him down to her

He met her lips
and kissed her back
Hotter, hotter
until they caught fire

No longer shy, timid
they moved like they were starved
for each other
desperate for the feel of the other
Not satisfied until they were tangled up
together in the sheets

Day Twenty-eight: Problem

I have a lot of those
and I've writen about many

"The problem is,
You're a million miles away
And I'm leaning in for a kiss"

That's always been my favorite
maybe because it's so bittersweet
or that I'm often caught in that one

Day Twenty-seven: The Trouble is (blank)

That this wont ever work
It seems like it would be surprisingly simple
but a kiss, a touch,
isn't enough, I'm sure
We both seem to be the sharing type
and that would be something
we couldn't do
now, I just  have to convince myself

Day Twenty-six: Animal

It was a lithe thing,
treading in and out of shadows
Looking, feeling like it was poured
from liquid metal
Its color and intentions
never quite solidifying
or settling
Padding through the minefield
of the space between us
You hesitated to reached out
I moved forward, almost unnoticeably
The animal writhed, crouched, lept
but we let the moment slip by,
and it was left to creep through
our shadows, once again

Day Twenty-five: Sport

Sports and games
have never been my thing
mostly due to my lack of competitiveness
-not just my bad joints.
And though you might catch me at a game
now and again,
they fall into the catagory,
of things that don't interest me.

Day Twenty-four: Love or Anti-Love

You can't go,
I'm not ready to hurt this much again
I've barely got my feet under me
and the world is spining
twisting out of my control

I love you too much
I can't let you go
please come home

Day Twenty-three: Morning

It's time to wake up
to crawl out of bed
But it already seems
like one of those days

This lag in the weather
 is bringing me down
The winter months
are always the hardest

So here's to hoping for spring
to really show its face
and even better,
lets wish for summer

Day Twenty-two: Judging

This is the season,
for a Courtney-sized-space
it's an unusual thing;
a small clear spot
perhaps 2 feet by 3
or lumpy and amorphous
filled by a tiny, maybe lonely
girl

I sleep that way,
bundled up and surrounded
by layer of pillows and blankets

Don't judge-
at least tonight I'm not eating chocolate

Day Twenty-one: Under the Microscope

I’m all tied up in a pair of head phones
lost in the music
That makes me think of you

Some of it you gave me
told me to listen,
brought out some feeling
And some songs seem,
like they were written about you

I don't think you'd get it,

how I can get so hung up on you

I'm not sure I do

but I'm laying here tangled in the songs

That make me think of you

Sometimes I think,

maybe I'm looking just a little too closely

Day Twenty: Let's (blank)

When I saw this prompt
My first thought
was something quite inappropriate
But the thing is,
once I get my teeth
into an idea
Well, I just can't let it go

So here's an idea
Instead of my inappropriate choice
Let's think about a few things
that have been on my mind

I had a dream about that night, again
that time you almost kissed me;
that time I wanted you to kiss me
I often think on
what would've happened
If we'd been just a bit more bold

There are a few nights that just stick with me
Tea in the study room (or laundry room)
when we did our homework together
Or the stupid bullheaded walk I made
in the dead of winter
just to take a picture
Making sandwiches
in the middle of the night
(we did that several times, didn't we?)

This is so very rambling
but it's mine,
so who gives a hoot?

Day Nineteen: Life Event

It's hard to reconcile
with the fact that,
unfortunately,
I've become an adult

How? I do not know
I don't understand the milestones
that mark that change

Legally, I turned into one
almost three years ago
but nothing changed
I don't smoke, so no convenience was added
I voted: even though I only knew
who I didn't want in office
(she's pro horse slaughter, who'd want that?)

In less than a month I can buy myself a drink
but that doesn't mean much to me
and I don't plan on being an alcoholic
at any point and time

But somehow
I started paying bills
and buying groceries
and worrying about my credit, and a 401K

Somehow,
there is a 5'3" grownup
looking at me in the mirror
who doesn't want to grow up.

Day Eighteen: Food

It's genetic
hidden somewhere
in my mother's father's genes
No doubt connected to the artsy ones
that run so strong there too

I don't even eat
half the things I want to make
Nor have I tasted
the things I feel would pair well

I generally don't enjoy
things that come easy
But the challenge of
"can I make that"
and that, and that
Keeps me hooked

It's funny,
I grew up in a food family
but I'm picky.

Day Seventeen: Science Fiction or Fantasy

It's often in dreams
that the ideas for stories come to me
they come out of nowhere
or possibly dinner
and weave themselves into being

A mutated form of rabies
and a pieced together family
A girl who changes
but doesn't know it

Some of them happen over and over
until I know the plot by heart
others are just glimpsed,
and require hours or labor
pouring details and love into the characters

Most spin out of control
burning so hot with their own life
It's hard for me to find the right words
and they end up rattling around my head
never getting read

Day Sixteen: Mixed Up

There were three kinds of peas
all sealed up in the jar
the glue on the envelopes,
so old

I don't know what to do with you
you came back so suddenly
reminding me
of that mutual feeling

It had long ago stopped holding them apart
and I don't know about you
but to me, five year old peas all look the same

Something akin to need
or want

So I poured them in together
who can tell the difference anyway?
they'll grow and taste the same.

Day Fifteen: Use slash, button, mask, strap, and balloon.

A hot-button topic
A mask strapped on
A tire slashed, in the heat of the day
A child's balloon, floats away.

Day Fourteen: Doomsday

This place that was his
Down a dark alley
With a small shack
And a cat that would hiss
But sometimes purr
He had a dog
They called Cur
The name had no meaning or story
And the place no future
With not a history
A place they called His


((this is more distopian or after doomsday type thing.))

Day Thirteen: Unlucky

Strung out
on lack of sleep and caffeine
it's a dangerous place for my mind to wander
without the self-imposed filters
there isn't much to stop me
from thinking back
on all those times

I'm looking back and wondering
why I can't get someone back
or wishing for a change
I'm wallowing in the terror
the pain and fear
that has been

Some were from him
(1, 2, 3 ... yea it goes on)
and the lies they told
the heart they broke

Some is from the crippling anxiety
both real and imagined
about the things that need to be done
and the things I try to prevent

It takes a lot
to shrug this off
but each time I'm getting better
and to think, they would've prescribed something
I'm not that unlucky.

Day Twelve: Something (Blank) Unknown

You know, it's been awhile
since I've written about you
You've slipped in and out of my life,
never very far off my mind
It's all a little weird
I mean, we never really had anything
(we probably should have)

Day Eleven: Seasons (Spring)

There's still a crust of ice
laying over all the green
but here, there
a bud pokes through
Crocuses, Snowdrops
Proudly proclaiming
that winter wont last
that they have come
as the first ambassadors
leading behind them
the tulips, daffodils
and later
lilacs
bleeding into summer

Day Ten: Forest or Tree

Little tree,
you are not more than
three leaves
But you lived where hundreds fell
from one single fruit
all your siblings are gone

You hold much potential,
a long lived variety
known for making excellent bow-wood
and fruit adept at chasing away spiders

You'll grow twisted and knotted
at your own pace

And one day
strange knobby fruit
will grace your limbs
and your children will spring forth

Day Nine: Shady

Sunshine dapples filter down
green as the spring
warm as the summer

The forest is often mentioned
as being quiet and still, but truly
that's never the case
There, the peeper cries out
looking for his mate
And there a mouse scurries about the leaf litter
already storing her seeds for the winter

Several soft steps away,
the faun lay nestled
it is little hallow
Speckled pelt hiding it in the shadows

Day Eight: Rejection

The door slammed
and I was left outside,
left to the cold

A dog barked somewhere
but no one listened
to him howling about my story

Unknown night creatures
scurried and fussed,
just out of sight

I slipped away,
one of the unseen
and unwanted night-dwellers

Day Seven: Interactions, but no Words

Bare feet planted firmly
in her imaginary sands
Lost on a far away shore,
dreaming of home
She plowed on through
the work week

Out on his own waters,
perhaps with fishing rod in hand,
dreaming of the waves
He stepped past

A smile,
a nod
maybe a well-rehearsed-
but meaningless- greeting
they never considered
that they may share a beach

Day Six: Hiding

I usually don't write like this
so open; available
Typically you'd find me
curled up around my notebook
(I have three now)
In the dark,
hidden from view.

Only a chance few have seen those books
Two lay "archived" and full
probably on the chair, or near the desk
the other, always tucked close by

All three, strangely
are marked boldly
Poems 1, 2, or 3
on matching blue notebooks
Somehow this makes them invisible
I would not volunteer them
to just anyone

I can count on fingers
how many have read them
Very few even know of them
Because truthfully,
I've hidden a part of me in them
Deepest down.

Day Five: Before Your Time

She used to tell me stories
About things I'd never seen,
Places I'll never go

Beautiful landscapes; interesting people
They were the things that fed my childhood
Stories, connected to diamonds and gold
The jewelry I could grasp
Something tangible
to root those stories

I don't hear them anymore
Many only told once,
Hush, a secret
To whisper a name,
The owner of the jewels
She left us, in that far away place
Long before your time dear.

Day Four: 100% (blank)

This is supposed to be about something
Be it love, or history,
or something else you think holds meaning
But here, this is about nothing.
Like all those times you don't know what to say,
Stumbling over your own tongue
lost in all the things that could be.
Or fumbling with the pen,
Unsure of what to write.
An ode to the unknown, the lost,
the hungry
Those of us who can see the beauty of needing,
The necessity of not-having.
A story about nothing
Addressed to no one
Where is there to leave it?

Day Three: Apology or Unapology

You grow in all shades of bright green, and yellow, and red,
And some even brown
Eager to jump up, to start and reach for your sun
Be it though just a lamp
You depend on me to wake it,
And to make your rain
I forgot to make time today.

Some of you may never rise from you shells now
Others may take just a little longer.
I really promise I was sick,
I'd never leave you on purpose.
You all are my babies, my love
An escape.
The rains will come tomorrow

I'm sorry

Day Two: Visitor

Balance, balance is needed
As he perched atop the garden ledge.
Carefully, delicately
He leaned out, fingertips brushing the leaves.
Quickly, silently
He pulled himself over, onto the limb.
Cat-like, gently
He shimmied across, into the heart of the garden.

Day One: Communication

It's not impossible you know,
you and I. Just improbable.
He wore a sad smile, shook his head.
We couldn't tell; It'd be hard
you know I wear my heart in the open

They'd never suspect,
Or at least couldn't prove.
He wrung his hands.
We'd best get back to work.

Your place or mine?
I'll be by 'round 5.
You just can't take no;
really, I couldn't give it to you.