One Wild & Precious

In Mary Oliver’s poem, The Summer Day, she asks: Tell me, what is it that you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

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The Journey

A limerick for you! In response to the Writing 201 Poetry Prompt: Journey.

I journey inside my restless mind
To see if any calmness could I find.
Like sifting through a heap of garbage,
Who am I, did I pay the mortgage?
Perhaps peace is underneath this old orange rind.


Death Grip

A prose poem for you! In response to Writing 201’s Poetry Prompt: Fingers.

That bar has an air of annoying superiority. An unnaturally violent reaction surges. Digit by digit, I press her cocky windpipe. My thumb closes around her black rubber. Choked. The floor drops from my feet. Dangling on hope. I start the swift ascent, exhaling out spongy lungs’ weight, fears and failures. Fresh found lightness lifts my chin above a lifeless bar. Ah! There’s the victor’s view. A moment on the top. Now gravity, my enemy. Muscles trembling, chlorophyll-less leaves in an autumn breeze. I am grabbed and grounded, releasing grip. The bar revives, she breathes and taunts, asks to be choked once more.