life

snuggle in

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nap time

doesn’t matter what time of day
snuggle in

and before you know it
dog elbow in your thigh
snoring at your left
brown and golden fur
within arm’s reach
you didn’t even have to say anything
they just knew

mom’s resting
snuggle in

although you have less room than you did
something heavy, half on and half off
you can’t really move
but you feel it

one hundred and sixty pounds of dog pile
trying to heal your broken pieces
they don’t say a word
you feel it in your bones
in your soul
in the dark, cold parts
that even therapy can’t seem to reach

one snore
one yawn
doggy breath in the face
the assignment stands:

snuggle in
mom needs us

Not much to say…life has been life-ing a lot lately. It was a day of resting today. (I’m preparing this on a Sunday.) Naps. Quiet time, too much doom scrolling, probably. Watched a Pacific Rim movie. Need to do adult things. Don’t wanna. Sometimes vegging is just easier.

Hope you have a good week.

–AJM

the poor man’s vote

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we cast our lot
with those consumed with power
they don’t know what minimum wage is
or how expensive it is to feed a family of four
they swindle and they lie
and apparently some
rape children

it makes me think
what happens
to the world
when there are no good people left
no leaders
who actually give a damn

or should we get used to the facts now
that the country that we once knew
no longer exists

fly

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one day
they’ve grown old
but you feel content
and confident
and bold
you’re not too shy now
to go places
then you notice
the wrinkles
on their faces
the humor
the disguised lie
and it makes you
want to cry
time didn’t wait
for you to catch up
it didn’t reach out a hand
to try
it laced up its skates
said, fly

snack time

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we hear rustling
the sound only a bag can make
that belongs to chips
or cheesy goodness
he rolls over
head on my lap
and strains his face and nose
towards the sound
another rustle
eyes wide
I can see his bear face thinking
is this a snack worth leaving
the warmth of bed
and then a few minutes pass
and I see his eyes droop
apparently there are other snacks
better than a nap
to this gray nose

skier

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I hate that critics
will chip away
at her story
like she’s an old stone
dripping alone
on the side of that hill

they’ll belittle
the dos and don’ts
of a woman’s choice
at forty one
a professional in her field

she shouldn’t have done it
she wanted the impossible
what did she expect
they’ll sigh
it wasn’t meant to be
trying to fly

maybe someday
they’ll see
the hope
the bravery
the dream
that it wasn’t just about a busted knee
so much courage and the will to be
that inspired others on that mountain

The last two weeks been recovering from covid. 😭 Finally on the mend and enjoying watching the winter Olympics. 🥇

This one was inspired by Lindsay Vonn’s recent try at a come back. Her crash brought me to tears. I love the stories we get from the games. The glimpses we get of the journey. How hard it is. How rewarding. Even heart breaking. It’s so human and I feel so awed and inspired by the athletes who have such incredible courage and heart and the will to try the impossible.

AJM

night walk

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the chill air laps at noses
and it slobbers on paws
and there, a silver sliver moon
during our evening walk

icy puddles shine like diamonds
the ‘don’t-walk-here’ mirror
an owl hoots nearby
come here, come here

the shush-shush of snow on boots
and the sound of passing cars
me: you’re barking at nothing!

no–we’re barking at the stars!

hah. I’m proud of my little sketch. I’m trying to get better. Bought some watercolor supplies the other day.
January almost done! I hope you all have a great week!

AJM

rock star

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is there nothing sadder
than a star
that used to shine

she was a rock star, baby
she sang about being
fine, fine, fine

now she’s in her fifties
her fans have all moved on
she dances alone up the street now

and no one knows her song

shine on, baby girl
she sings
know the stars
that don’t know you

reach for that inky dark
that unfathomable,
impossible blue

shine on, baby, girl
she croons
know the stars
that don’t know you

shine on
she whispers to the dark

her bare feet are turning blue

Have you ever been instantly proud of something you’ve written? That’s how I feel with this one. It started off much different. I wrote it last week. Then I found it again tonight and it all came together. It’s something like magic when words piece themselves together in your mind. It is a bit euphoric. I can’t quite describe it…maybe like how an artist must feel when the right brushstroke hits the canvas, or like a when a composer discovers the right note for a song? (Big, happy, sigh). I could go on, but it is feeling a bit long-winded already, hah.

This one was inspired by a show that I watched, or maybe it was a song. Not sure.

I hope you have a great week,

AJM

labs

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Koda bear likes nothing more
than stretching out across the kitchen floor
and there he lies like time forgot
a chocolate lab
in the most inconvenient spot

I’ve been posting a lot of dog poems lately, and while I should finish up my lastest poetry project, I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a poetry book with dog poems and some short essays. Maybe featuring this chocolate chunk.

Anywho, dogs are adorable and if you’re someone who thinks they are messy and loud and smelly – well, they totally are, but you can’t beat the love from a dog. They love us when we don’t deserve it sometimes. Hope you have a fantastic week.

AJM

Some new changes: from poetry to prose

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#73. Opposites Attract. Write a scene in which two characters play opposites to each other. (from writersdigest.com)

He was like fire. She was like ice. He was open like a flame that wraps everything up in its liquid arms and snaps and picks up. She was like wood that tightens and creaks in the cold. Instead of open arms, she felt herself creeping closed and she couldn’t help it.

It started the night she heard him on that phone call. One minute she was making spaghetti and meat sauce at the stove, the next she was peering around the corner to the other room, trying not be concerned at the hushed voice and the way he bent his head into the phone. Like he was trying to hide who he was talking to.

She told herself it didn’t matter and then the conversation the next day. Before work. Her coffee hadn’t even finished brewing yet.

“I have a project after work, babe. I’ll be late. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry” he had said…like he didn’t know how to talk to a woman. Like he hadn’t been living with one for the last three years. Like he didn’t know that all she would do was worry. Worry about who he was talking to as she opened her locker at work. Like she wouldn’t be thinking about the pink lipstick she saw on his neck that one weekend when she changed out of her scrubs later that day.

Yeah, don’t worry. Well, that would be pretty fucking unlikely.

That night she tells him. As they’re standing next to the microwave. She’s waiting for her dinner to finish cooking. “I’m moving back in with my mother. I’ll take the TV. No, don’t worry. I’ll be fine by myself.”

Hi Friends,

For those of you who have been loyal readers and followers these past years, I appreciate you. As I gather content for my next few poetry book projects, I am going to try something new on here. I won’t be posting as much poetry, but in an effort to keep writing…I’m going to try to write some more prose. Right now, that looks like trying writing prompts…wherever I may find them. Who knows, maybe in the future it will move into something else. Maybe it’ll be something that will stick. Maybe I’ll give up after a few posts of writing prompts and start something else. This feels like an ending of an era for me. But also of something new.

Happy Writing!

~AJM