Poems

April is Poetry Month. And since the trauma of learning about the actual craft of writing poetry, I've decided to join the fun and write a poem a day throughout April.

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You may remember my surprise in learning that rhymed poetry is passe! So last night at my writing group when the prompt was a little rhyme from Emily Dickinson, I jumped at the chance to rhyme once again.

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Flight in Rhyme

I dwell inside the foyer

And crouch along the wall

Waiting for a miracle

To break my gruesome fall.


Out the window three blue foxgloves

Sway and wave as though

I could be that free too

If I would just let go..


You see, I really try to welcome fate

I don’t complain when it is late

I spread my fingers and willingly wait

But I’ll be damned: what does abate


Is often hope instead of doubt

I wonder why I shrink just then

The foxgloves bid me to spread wide

But I forget to bend.


That foyer has an open door

Where visitors pass by

I often smile with open arms

And greet them eye to eye.


They tell me I am whole and fit

I tell them hardly, then I sit.

But they persist until I might

Flap my wings and pray for flight.


I could walk out the door

Into the light

I could raise my chin

And raise up my sight.


I could give up first

And sit down last.

I could whisper thank you

In the silver grass.


I could even agree

To heal my amends

And bypass the beginning

Until I get to the end.


I could and I would

I should and I might

Forget about shudders

And fly into the night!