Tag Archives: inspiration

My Demon

(Poem 9 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photo by Rishabh Dharmani on Unsplash

My demon
was once a believer
whose heart was broken
by killing
his love.
Could any soul
survive such cruelty
in the name of
Confucius?
Kong Qui would be
offended by
blood blasphemy.
The teacher who
teaches humanity,
filial piety,
righteousness and ritual
as four pillars
of morality
would never condone
violence as a means
to an end.
Is God a homeless
gambler betting on
peoples’ fates for fun?
No wonder love
turns to hate
and there’s always
hell to pay.

@Home Studio – 9th poem of the year; written while watching (and inspired by) My Demon episode 12 “The Savior of Destruction”, one of my current Korean shows.

I Don’t Know How

(Poem 6 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/DmpRJu

I don’t know how
to write about the real
things that keep me up
at night because
I’ve forgotten what they are.

My mind is as empty as
a lazy metaphor,
my brain smooth silk,
my soul a settled morning pond.

I’m afraid enlightenment
might make me a worse poet.
Do sages fear writer’s block,
Or do they eschew the arts?

Will newfound peace
change my focus such that
my words will suffer?
Have I found the worry stone
to hold in my palm tonight?

Well, looky there, proof
I’m still on the mortal plane,
but I’m getting closer
to the obliteration of self
and who knows what that means…

@Home Studio – 6th poem of the year

Candles Lit

(Poem 5 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/hyBGfL

Candles lit
Cleared space
Tea at the ready
Blank page
Dogs asleep
at my feet
Husband in a
snuggie so
the air can be
comfortable
for the furnace
that is me
Perfect evening
to sit and write
Melt my soul
back to the night
Quiet peace
Edge of dream
Twinkle lights
add softness
Husband’s touch
subtle as a battle cry
but welcome
and enough
Nice to share
a relaxing day
alone together
Our secret foreplay
And when he
switches the laundry
my heart melts
a little bit more
softening edges
I forget are rough,
angry and wounded
in need of love

@Home Studio – 5th poem of the year

Well, Hello There Little Bird

(Poem 4 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/m4gV1z

Well, hello there little bird.
Care for a bit of bread?
You’ve been eyeing it
quite obviously for the last
few minutes. Don’t play coy now.
Come closer if you expect
me to share. A good look at you
the price of the treat
sprinkled with sugar and
cinnamon like the
feathers on your breast.

Your yellow eye stares
at me as you steal a piece
and side step a hop or two
to safety. You better hurry.
That larger blackbird
thinks the rest is for him,
his giant claw stomping,
claiming it for his own,
his beak ripping to bits
the delicate layers you
so gently speared with grace.

@Genuine Joe’s mid-day – 4th poem of the year

The First Time Salting

(Poem 3 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

<a href=”https://www.vecteezy.com/free-photos”>Free Stock photos by Vecteezy</a>

The first time salting
my window sills, I waited
until everyone in the house
was asleep.

No one could question
the protective measures
taken on their behalf
nor doubt their
efficacy.

Burning sage for the first time
took place behind closed doors,
any scent detected probably
thought to be a strange new
candle, since those are
understood.

My rock collection
continues to grow,
new shades of polished
gems and crystals join
dinosaur excrement and
fossilized wood,
each has its place.

@Genuine Joe’s mid-day – 3rd poem of the year

Will My Awakening

(Poem 2 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

<a href=”https://www.vecteezy.com/free-photos”>Free Stock photos by Vecteezy</a>

Will my awakening
shock me like a lightning strike
send sizzling energy
bolting from my fingertips
and announce to all in
earshot that I am alive?

Will my awakening
descend gentle as
falling snow and land
on my eyelashes
spinning a new reality
forever in a moment?

Or will my awakening
happen in my sleep
while I dream, a bit of
saliva drooled onto my pillow
and I have no idea it
even happened?

@Genuine Joe’s mid-day – 2nd poem of the year

David is Beautiful

(Poem 1 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

David is beautiful,
especially when reading
through smudgy glasses
wrapped in my thread-bare sweater
because he didn’t think he needed
a coat for our date
and is now sacrificing his comfort
so we can sit outside where it is
breezy and cool and
a homeless man is making
him uncomfortable by sitting not
far from us spitting on the floor
every so often.

David is beautiful,
especially when he
does not complain about
his terrible hot chocolate
that was not even stirred properly
so he got an entire swig
of molten grossness near the end,
and his cinnamon concoction is
hard as a rock and
I can tell he doesn’t like it.

David is beautiful,
especially when letting me
read my novel out loud to him
that is mixing mythologies
like nobody’s business,
but he listens anyway
because my son mistakenly bought
it for him when I was the one
who wanted it for research I was doing
on I can’t remember what,
and no matter because I love
an excuse to read out loud
because it is one of my favorite
things to do in the whole world.

David is beautiful
when he would rather be
playing his video games and
watching his shows or building
something out of nothing
in his studio but instead
sits with me, Anderson Lane traffic
buzzing by, grackles hoping for
handouts, drinking water from
a dog dish,
the sun doing little to warm him,
but he knows I love Genuine Joe’s
for tea and writing
so much that he bought
me a gift card
and brought me here
and waited in a long line
to get me pumpkin bread
and hot tea
while I sat and read
to my heart’s content.

@Genuine Joe’s mid-day 1st poem of the year

Shacks Who Shriek

Shacks who shriek, spiders who skate,
werewolves teach, moons deflate.
Scheming rat and wild dog howl,
soul-sucking beasts, murder most foul.

If what you fear most is simply fear,
the time-turned solution is plain and clear.
Face the truths that make you quake,
be it darkness or heights, failure or snake.

Retrace your steps past trauma and pain –
executioner’s blade, monsters on a train.
Save yourself with the strength you find.
Be your own hero; leave the past behind.

Stand up to the demon who threatens joy,
be it anger, depression, the urge to destroy.
The time-turned solution is plain and clear
if what you fear most is simply fear.

Tonight I watched Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban with friends. The twists and turns are quite complex in this story line, but all converge to elucidate themes of facing fear, unmasking the truth, and fighting for justice for the wrongly accused. It is very well done and inspires poetry for me when I watch it.

Riddle for a name

Riddle for a name,
secrets lay blame.
Speak in snake
for everyone’s sake.

Chambers of cave
and porcelain grave
where myrtle trees grow
and willows blow.

Bad business afoot,
full confidence put,
help always found,
if you ask around.

Spider trails lead
to answers indeed,
but questions grow
increasing woe.

Medusa-like eyes
leave us petrified,
unless evil reject
and sight reflect.

Then blinded beast,
with anger increased,
will wound to kill
lest Phoenix tears heal.

The book destroy,
this truth employ:
all blood is pure,
of that I’m sure.

My friends and I are watching all the movies…all the Magical Beasts and all the Harry Potters. This was the poem I wrote while watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Mahogany suede-scented candle

Mahogany suede-scented candle
lifts my prayers heavenward
petitions spit like sparks out
to the beyond where golden stars
balance on black silk with shiny
pearl strings of galaxies in a coil
teakwood, oil, flame, light
magic cradled in Japanese pottery
hands pressed clay together
in meditative knowing aligning
time, place, now, never
where all the answers sit
comfortably together unbothered
by the questions.