all that is said that ever was
thinking about it just because
and all the stuff I cannot change
the unimportant or really strange
it’s drifting by like rolled-up news
it’s dirty gray and overused
the stuff that hasn’t happened yet
recycled things I can’t forget
blogging
Monday
gray sky is empty
full of snow or pollution
garbage beginning
Monday in the ER
Hi all, no poetry from me this week because I spent most of my Monday in the Emergency Room.
Everything is okay, but at the time my face and arm was going numb, so that was less okay. I have a muscle strain in my right shoulder that makes me feel like there is an icy-hot poker stabbing at me. That is, when I’m not taking pain meds. Oh, and I have been getting muscle spasms in my neck, too. Fun times.
So, nothing creative from me this week. Or, maybe there is…
Monday in the ER
shoulder hurt, stabbing
pit stop, pit crew, she dying?
safe. home with pain meds
OR
my arm and neck numb
not dying. feel kind of dumb
remember: ergonomic
Ahhh…I could go on and on with the haikus. At least the dogs cuddled me at the end of the night. Showing their love, as doggies do. One big, giant, doggy pile.
Not a Poem – How’s Your January Been??
January has just been one big suck-fest. Anyone with me?
I have a poem I’ve been working on, but instead of coming together like things usually do, pulling the words out for this one is like trying to pull blood from a stone.
I am on the struggle bus. Physically. Mentally. Creatively. I long for sunny days. And warmth.
I hope everyone else is doing better than me. If you’ve kept up with this blog and my poetry book, you’ll know that Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) hits me big every year. This past month, more so than others.
I take comfort in my light therapy, friends, comedy, and the dogs.
I don’t have anything creative for you today. I’m sorry. But here’s a few dog pics, because dogs are awesome and cute. Bowl is life. ❤️😆 love them. (The chocolate is Koda; the golden, Teddy.)
Walking The Dogs On a Snowy Evening
Whose yard is this? The dogs. (I know)
They both like it covered with snow
And lake-like puddles on the ground
And squishy grass that’s hard to mow
They will chew their sticks to the sound
Of wind blowing their ears around
With snow that bites with winter’s chill
They chew, oh — another stick found!
And the dogs always get a thrill
Smelling bunnies and things to kill
Noses to the ground, at my side
They sniff until the world grows still
The yard is icy, cold and wide
And I continue to abide
Please, it is time to go inside
Please, it is time to go inside
This poem is inspired by Robert Frost’s Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening, but obviously with a less serious and sillier theme. I had the pattern of this poem in my head while out walking the dog one evening and I thought it might be fun to play around.
Wishing everyone a meaningful Martin Luther King Jr. Day.
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, check out my poetry book, Walking in Cemeteries available for purchase here.
Just a Pinch
Every month, a woman sheds the lining of her uterus
Except, mine is scraping through me
like a sweater-rake that claws at those scratchy balls of wool
I’m shedding barbed wire and lava
Feeling red hot and deflated
Men laugh at a woman’s period
Think we’re over-exaggerating
Like that small-pinched-lie you’re told you’ll feel during a procedure
Why can’t we be honest about a woman’s pain
A woman feels pain as easy as a man succeeds
In this patriarchal society
Where a woman just bleeds
And bleeds
And bleeds
If you’ve liked what you’ve read, check out my poetry book Walking in Cemeteries available for purchase here.
Unsure
on campus
walking through a crowd of people
I still feel like that same nerdy girl
who didn’t know how to talk to ppl
who felt lost on the way to class
who couldn’t just be. normal.
except
I pay my own bills now
I’ve seen the Grand Canyon
and I’ve had sex
does it matter that I’m an adult
and was back then, too
but I still feel seventeen
who actually feels their age?
the president?
hah.
The First Snow
a brand new sherpa
draped over the furniture
it isn’t dirty yet
or covered in dust
it doesn’t have dirt or stains
or mud
a virgin snow
untouched
by the long, dark
or the salt that curses the roads
beautiful
innocent
it is the puff
of fresh air
on your lips
Thank God High School is Over
It’s amazing how a cafeteria smell
Will instantly take you back
The way it smells like broccoli cheddar soup. Like cheese but with a funk
Only 20 seconds
And the anxiety flashes back
High school anxiety. And middle school anxiety.
Standing in line forever to get food
If you kept your head down, the kids that were lewd, that were cruel, left you alone, rushing to eat
Difficult to swallow when your heart is pounding
Choking down chicken and gravy
That sticks to your throat like plaster
Or a doughy pizza that’s okay. Thank God for Pepperoni
Then you got the years Michelle Obama tried to make us eat healthy, and everything palatable (fries and cookies) were taken away and replaced my wheat rolls that looked and tasted like cardboard
What will we eat now?
It was okay with friends
It was safe there
Laughing and creating together
But on my own, I felt anxiety about a crowd
A teenage boy loves an easy mark
Especially someone so gullible
Innocent, naive, and unaware of the world
A 16 year old should have been more aware
Should have been not so afraid
I didn’t know how to be
Every day was fight or flight
And mom would be instantly there. To make it all better
There and Gone
For more poems from me, check out my poetry book, Walking in Cemeteries, now available on Amazon: https://a.co/d/72YgJ1O
A. J. Morse 