To the Little Girl in the Blanket Fort

I know it’s hard
not to be constantly embarrassed
by a weird, wild heart
that keeps finding itself
snagged on a world full of splinters.

You imagine
it’d make such a beautiful sail,
freed from the limits of its chest,

for those times when you want to flip
all the blanket and pillow walls 
and turn them into a boat
to glide over the squalls.

Be patient with it. Your heart
can't help the way it throbs and dances.

As odd and awkward as it is, your heart
will be something you grow in to,
not something to grow out of.

Photo by Sdf Rf on Unsplash

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created for the Weekly Scribblings post at Poets and Storytellers United, Hindsight is Rather Tricky. The phrase we were asked to work with is "if I knew then what I knew now." I really should have spent less time worrying about being that weird kid, and more time just enjoying it.


It’s hard to believe
in the promise of springtime
while walking on the dried remains
of snow crushed grass, 
you see that first bit of green, 
thrusting forth an unmistakable digit
at the retreating frost.

Photo by iMattSmart on Unsplash

Liner Notes for this Groove: This poem was created by for the Weekly Scribblings prompt at Poets and Storytellers United, Beautiful Words. I chose the word shitamoe , which means 'plants sprouting under last year’s dried grass or under the snow' as my inspiration. 


I’ve been up all night thinking I’m a stranger to who I wished to be.

Strange times, strange words make for strange fates even under sympathetic stars.

I scream out the questions that she’d never have had it in her to ask.

Song Choice: Nobody Told Me by John Lennon 

Liner Notes for this Groove: I decided that I needed three American sentences to make one whole response to the prompt given at Poets and Storytellers United's Weekly Scribblings Prompt: Something About Mary. I riffed off the phrase, 'all night they had thought of what they would like their lives to be'.

Keep Walking

How many steps does it take
to be truly away? How
are those steps measured?

Even if my feet weren't small
it is going to be a long walk for me.

You gave me a head start,
with your rightward shuffle
I was supposed to be
polite enough to ignore.

And though I've paused 
at this milestone moment,
I am too tired
not to keep walking

and wondering
how many steps
until I’m really away 

and no longer expecting 
to hear steps besides my own.

Photo by Adam Cao on Unsplash

Song Choice: Not Ready to Make Nice by The Chicks

This poem was created for Poets and Storytellers United's Weekly Scribblings prompt. I went with Walking Away.