Tag Archive | poetry

Poetry day was unexpectedly ok

When the counselor announced we had a guest coming in to lead our group in a poetry exercise I inwardly groaned and tried to contain my skepticism and eye rolling. Actually it was worse than that, I was prepared to endure an hour of terrible poetry torture like from Hitchhiker’s guide to the galaxy. I actually enjoy reading some poetry, and writing it more than reading it – sometimes, when the creative mood hits me and the words seem to flow. I didn’t think someone could guide a group of barely speaking women to write anything.

I was wrong.

She only gave us only about 12 minutes to formulate ideas and scribble some thoughts on paper, and when we went around the room, everyone shared a unique and interesting bit of imagery, style and depth. Like it was easier to get our thoughts on paper in this form, it was fascinating really. Because our poems weren’t about us personally, or didn’t have to be, but they were a little actually of course. I wish I remembered some of the lovely words but it probably wouldn’t be right to share them here anyway. Instead I can only share that it was a beautiful moment and I’m so happy that we were all vulnerable to be there together to do it. I don’t any of us will win awards or get published, but that wasn’t the point at all.

At first I didn’t want to share mine, wanting to fix it first, finish it, polish it. But whatever, I could see this was about sharing ideas while they were still hot and raw – not perfect. so I shared. And it wasn’t even scary, because I love to perform. I’m choosing not to share it here, because it does not need to be performed again, it lived in that special moment of the group and will remain there because it will take too long to explain the meanings and my point is not a  poetry lesson here today.

my point is that sometimes I am wrong.

And sometimes imperfection is a powerful tool to make us feel connected and vulnerable.

And I need to try to stop pre- hating everything. hmmm. My inner critic judges not only me but so all of my activities so harshly – even before they begin, before they have a chance. No wonder I never have any fun.

I have an open mind for ideas and theories and learning. I need to figure out how to open my mind for new opportunities for myself that might be ok. See start small, I don’t expect awesome here, maybe just ok is enough for now.

Weary Warrior Wanting


Fighting the darkness (Photo credit: Moyan_Brenn)

I should be happy. I should be grateful. Not so weary, not so hateful.

Guilt. Shame. Always return. More to learn.

Mindfully loving moments. Joy! Dreading the moments between moments. Darkness.

Letting go of what I can not control. Yearning control of what I should control.

Controlled by shoulds.

Avoiding the void. Step out, fall in. Darkness wins.

Might. Fight. Step out again.

Weary warrior wanting. Watchful.

Looking for the right, the light. No rest, must fight. Ever haunted, endlessly taunted.

Life on the border, such disorder, battle the night, keep sight of the light.




First Climb – poem 22/30

Double figure-eight knot.

Double figure-eight knot. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The air was calm, but I was not

as I surveyed the challenge ahead of me.


Harness check – secure.

Rope check – secure.

Ability check – insecure, no, secure? secure!


Stop killing time, must start the climb.

Eyes furrow in concentration, determination.

Sweat drips slowly down a warm neck,

though no exertion has happened yet.


Choose a handhold, get one grip then two,

Take the first step off solid ground,

then take a deep breath.

Head spins a bit,

The next step is taken.

This is it!

The ascent has begun.


Find grip after grip – realize it’s fun!

Hear cheers down below,

Your spotter encourages.

Feel alive so alive! Now go!


Higher you go, feeling so small,

And yet feeling ready to conquer that wall.

Muscles burning.

Molars grinding.

Leg trembling.

Heart pumping.


Dare to check progress with a quick glance down,

Want nothing more than to be back on that ground.

Ready to rappel? NO! But you must

Lean back, grab the rope,

the ultimate test of trust.

Let go of the fear,

Let go of the wall.

Scream! as you feel yourself fall.


Adrenaline, icy hot, in your veins.

bounce-kick, bounce-kick.

Just a few steps remain.


There. Safe and sound, both feet on the ground.

Relief? Yes. But something more too.


Your grin,

your big, cheeky victory grin,

shows you not only beat this wall,

but also won the battle within.

Late Bird – poem 19/30

Luza - The bird is back! (by)

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

There once was  a bird named Late
Whose habits secured his fate.
Loved watching the moon
and sleeping ’til noon,
So worms, this poor bird never ate

Being the last bird on the lawn
Late hunted while stifling yawns
His belly, it growled
His beak, it scowled
Early worms long since gone

So what’s a poor bird to do?
Ignore what he loves so true?
Should he go to bed early
like a good little birdy?
Or can he have worms and eat them too?

What Do You Mean? – poem 18/30

For the love of words



The power of words has become exceedingly clear.

They soothe, inform, confuse or cause fear.

The words of our language have multiple meanings

meaning readers or listeners have multiple gleanings.

Some words are obviously carefully chosen,

while others are mostly recklessly verbosen.

Though it is important to craft words with nuance and subtlety,

one can go too far, to avoid undue perplexity .

There is a point where the Word- Smith relies

on a Word- Reader to get what she implies.

Let the author put her thesaurus away.

Let her write the words in her heart and get on with her day!

Worth it – Poem 17/30

English: Four hands holding.

English: Four hands holding. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Worth the time

Worth the dime

Worth the trouble

Worth the rubble

Worth the tears

Worth the fear

Worth the headache

Worth the mistake

Worth the stress

Worth the mess

Worth a try

Worth a cry

Worth a chance

Worth a glance

Worth it.

We are all worth it.

The World Keeps Spinning – poem 15/30

Yesterday was tough. Really tough. It was tough before I saw the news.

The world does not stop to let you breathe and process and cope.

The world never stops at all.

This is a good thing. Really.  It is.

So we all have to figure out how to hang on while the world keeps spinning.

Even on the days it feels like the world is spinning too fast, and we’re about to fly off. Especially those days.

Like those old Merry-Go-Rounds that most playgrounds have removed. So we feel safe.

Maybe our kids need to learn how to feel unsafe and keep hanging on.

Maybe we do too.





Building – Poem 14/30

ship building

ship building (Photo credit: ianturton)

My job, the work, for me is easy

it is the people that make me queasy

as I must decide what is safe to say

balancing promotion or getting fired today


For me, my tasks are ever so simple.

It is the required agreeable dimple

that causes pause and so much stress.

True thoughts held in,  I can not express


For deadlines I am always ready,

convictions I manage to hold steady

as I watch the others bend or break

I am solid, I can do this – piece of cake


I get my money, put in my time

bite my tongue to earn a dime

knowing I am but a pawn

also knowing I must go on


Corporate America, it is what it is

Get on board – or get out of the Biz!

My dreams are big, my path I see

Someday soon, I will be free


It may appear I am treading water

if you don’t know I’m a secret plotter

I’m building my own ship, preparing to sail

gathering stores to start my own tale





(c) 2013  Roots To blossom


Workplace politics get me down some days. I see the greed in others, their need for power, and I don’t understand. I will never move farther up the ladder they have provided for me, because I value people more than money. And so I am secretly building my own ladder, one planted firmly in excellence. My ladder is strong, and like anything made the right way, it is coming along slowly. I have no need to climb it today, but when I am ready for it, it will be there, and at the top will be my ship – waiting for me to captain.