Small victories

It’s the first day of spring. The sky is a clear blanket of blue. I’m wearing a long turquoise pleated skirt that wafts gently in the wind. This morning was for poetry and inky words.

In her poem called “Improvment”, Danusha Laméris writes:

“The optometrist says my eyes

Are getting better each year.

Soon he’ll have to lower my prescription 

What’s next? The light step I had at six?

All the gray hairs back to brown?

Skin taut as a drum?

My improved eyes and I 

Walked around the town and celebrated.

We took in the letters 

Of the marquee the individual leaves

Filling out the branches of the sycamore,

And early moon.

So much goes downhill: joints

Wearing out with every mile, 

The delicate fold of the eardrum

Exhausted from years of listening.

I’m grateful for small victories.

The way the heart still beats time

In the cathedral of the ribs.

And the mind, watching its parade

Of thoughts, enter and leave, begins to see them for what they are:

Jugglers, fire swallowers, acrobats,

Tossing their batons into the air.”

From our bodies to the tulips springing up from the ground, small victories are worth celebrating everywhere. For every painful moment that holds hands with a small victory, there is gratefulness. I am grateful that I am alive and that I am a human who makes mistakes. I am grateful to learning through uncomfortable growth.

What are your victories, the large ones down to the small, seemingly insignificant ones?

Here are a few of mine:

I made it through the first winter where I lived on my own. I made it through the high electric bills, the long dark nights where I had to shut the curtains at 4:55, the snowstorms, chapped hands, and navigating hard choices amid colds and runny noses.

I followed my gut and left an old job, even though it has resulted in a lower number in my bank account for the short term. Listening to my gut instincts instead of turning to others’ options has left me stronger.

The dirty dishes and crumbs are cleaned up after a couple longs weeks of a dirty kitchen.

Like Danusha, my eyesight has gotten better instead of worse over the past three years of odd, unruly inflammation. 

I’m trying new things simultaneously as the tree branches that are beginning to show their red blossoms. 

Noticing the full moon’s reflection in the dark evening river — present to the here and now for a moment, instead of being caught up in my own messy thoughts.

Although the life around me is painful and uncomfortable in so many areas, there are small victories that are worth celebrating — the victories that make life a little more tolerable. There are blue sky spring days at the end of every winter. 

off to neverland | poems

The steam from the pot rolled heavy across the air.
He played with my hair, fair 
but not.
There is something about the way he holds me
tight, but not so.
I’m still cold.
I walk out onto the street, to meet
with him 
off to Neverland we go
or shall I think
right before my eyes everything flashes
Neverland turned into never-turning-back.
I stair into the abysses of this cold, empty space
It’s not what imaged to face
This whole thing,
 I created it in my head,
a fairy-tail, a happily-ever-after,

turned dead.

tumblr poetry

 English 202 //09

This past week, on my Tumblr blog, I made a post asking people to anonymously send me a subject and then I’d write them a poem about it. I got five request. I haven’t gotten around to writing the fifth one yet, but I though I’ll post the other four here. 
These poems were merely for practice, I feel as if sometimes I fall into a rut when I don’t try anything new for awhile, this was just a way for me to try something knew. It’s alway good to stretch out of your bounrdes a little bit and try a new endevor. Here’s what I came up with.


A poem about housesitting

Hard wood floors.
A dog sleeping,
an occational snore.
Pictures hanging 
by the blue back door.
It felt like home
not your own.
for somewhere to go,
for some place
to call your own.

A poem about my favorite color

The morning light,
faint streaks
of gold, blue, and pink.
The deep, dark murkiness
that is beneath 
the sea.
The hues that the leaves are
in the summer, fall,
and spring,
The changes in nature,
those, my dear,
are my favorite to see.

A poem about puns

I’m horrible at puns
you should know this by now.
So here you go:


make what you want of it.
You’re that kind of type.

A poem about hello kitty
There once was a kitty
who was truly very pretty.
She wore a red bow
that she liked to show
around the giant busy city.

If you’d like me to write you a poem about any subject, you can head over to my Tumblr blog and ask me an anonymous question or you could just reply here down in the comments.