#poetry365

[carelinewrite]

What is love?

Is it a warm kiss on a cold night?

Flowers for every occasion?

Star-crossed fate shimmering in the moonlight?

Friendship standing the test of time?

A helping hand, holding hands, attributes that go hand in hand?

An answer to a burning question, perhaps.

Maybe it’s not leaving someone alone when they’re not all right.

Or, leaving them when they need space and you being all right with that.

Imagine it lives in a laugh or a tear, silence when you’re unsure what to say.

Maybe it’s prepping a remedy when someone’s in pain.

Placing a phone call, responding to a text.

Watching a sunrise.

Applying sunscreen.

Opening a sunroof.

Catching a sunset.

Saying,

“I do.”

Then,

asking,

“Do you?”

May 21

- Caroline Wright

[imperial-filth]

Blog Announcement

There are about 18-19 days until this blog’s 1 year anniversary. Hard to think that a year can go by so fast. (not really, but you guys understand the sentiment) With that being said, to make up for the lost time I’m going to challenge myself to post 100 pieces by 10/16/19. This may require some outside support, so feel free to drop a prompt in my inbox to help the creative juices drip (or something like that).

Stay filthy and beautiful. -r.p.

[signedco]

Sunday, August 25, 2019 ″Popeye’s Chicken Sandwich”

I saw a video of a Black woman getting jumped

by a Black man over a chicken sandwich

and it reminded me of when my father

broke my mother’s china over his food not being ready in time,

and when my father made my sister cry

over making food that he didn’t want to eat,

and when my father yelled at me for not knowing

how to work the stove when I was ten,

and he was hungry.

He was so very hungry.

[carelinewrite]

May Haiku

Artist splashes gray

Dipping paint brush in water,

Commissioning rain.

May 2

- Caroline Wright

[carelinewrite]

January 19 - Poetry 365+

Things That Are Poetry - II

[signedco]

Wednesday, August 28, 2019 “Haunted House”

My mom still keeps the hallway lights on, 

a left over from when dad had his stroke

and fell down the stairs exactly five times.

Other times he was a shell of himself, a ghost,

so mom kept the lights on to

counteract his hauntings. 

Six years after the divorce 

and its like his ghost is still here:

with all of his clothes, pictures, and trauma he left behind. 

[signedco]

Thursday, August 22, 2019 “Baltimore is Burning”

This one time I let an entire city burn:

left the stove on,

didn’t put out a candle by some curtains,

got too comfy with matches,

didn’t unplug the iron,

etc, etc, etc.

On my watch an entire city boiled 

itself empty and burned the bottom of the pan.

I moved there so that exact thing wouldn’t happen,

again. It not so spontaneously combusted

when I was too focused on being sad.  

[signedco]

Day 83: “On Resiliency” December 30, 2017

The biggest lesson was how to move on,

that it’ll be painful,

and long, but necessary,

that I will learn my most resilient self

in the process of forgetting,

him, her, all the trauma,

this place that feels eternal.