NaPoWriMo Poems 1-10

Poem 1

I close my eyes

and paint images of my

sheros and


across my mental landscape.

Bold brushstrokes and

striking contrasts

in radiant reds,

vivid yellows and

and vibrant blues.

They shine so brightly

when I open my eyes

and look at my own


I am fuzzy around the edges.

Blurred lines

and muted colors.

I peek into places

I wish were filled with greatness

and find only shallow pools of potential.

I diminish myself in the shadow of


I wish

I could be

and define myself

by what

I am not.


Poem 2

I wander down the path


taking my time


my feet

get familiar with the pavement

before I take

my next


my arms brush my sides

as they swing

back and forth

and I veer off

a little

to the left

I lay down


into the grassy cushion

and watch

as the sky passes

pale pink to dusty rose

dusty rose to violet

violet to indigo

and I wait

In the space of

the shutter of my eyelids

it happens

it appears

my North Star


Poem 3

I live in the space where dreams and reality hold hands

and whisper to each other all their secrets and sorrows.

I dance in the hollows left by the spaces where they don't touch.

I spend holidays in the no-man's land where everything

and anything is possible cuz no one's rules apply.

I live in a space where dreams and reality combine

to create a place that is wholly and uniquely mine.


Poem 4

Invisible to the naked eye

I wrap myself up in it

and strut

down the street.

I listen to the whispers

I feel the stares

Folks see my smile

and wonder aloud

"Does she know she's


I chuckle at what they

cannot see.

I settle into a satisfied smile

and I look down at my body

covered in

the impression of your kisses

when your lips have gone,

the warmth of your palm in mine,

the tenderness of your fingertips

on the bare small of my back,

the moments that pass

between us when not a word

is said.

I smile at those people

as they gaze at me

confused at the height

of my chin and

the certainty

of my steps.

They cannot see

I wear your love

like a second skin.


Poem 5

Each year as more distance grows

between me and


I hope to forget

but my stomach tightens

and my temper shortens

and my joints stiffen

before I am aware

of my remembering

Call it muscle memory

Call it aftershocks

from an earthquake almost




that invades my body

before alerting my mind

and I go days

puzzling at the shift

trying to pinpoint

the reason

I am turning inward

on myself

burrowing so deep

I can not find me

But then my head

catches up with my heart

already broken and rebroken

and mending as best it can

and I cry conscious tears

as my whole self mourns

my knowing.


Poem 6

Nothing happened

I made it home

Two feet through the door

head atop my neck

sitting squarely on my shoulders

every hair in place

no tousled locs holding tales of trauma

I am


I made it

But the sound of those footsteps echoing mine

The shadows cast on his face

in twilight

and the familiar fear

The tightening in my chest

The tension in my muscles

The painful rapid beating of my heart

that remembers

what has yet to happen

that remembers

violence can come from familiar places

as easily as from strange ones

that remembers

the impressions left on its spirit

that linger long after the impressions of fingertips

have faded

I wish I could forget.


Poem 7

Breathing life

I am breathing life

I wake up

and before I open my eyes

I breathe


Knowing air will keep my

pulse pumping

and my heart


but life 

will be what keeps me


I inhale

and exhale

big gulps of living

until my nostrils flare

and my

throat burns

but the pain is a reminder

that I am here.


Poem 8

i make worlds with my

words hoping to manifest

a new tomorrow.


Poem 9


in its inconsistencies


in its inevitability


as my next breath

and the one after that


I reach

my last

I wait for change

my familiar friend

now that I am wise enough

to embrace it

brave enough

to hold its hand

strong enough

to hold myself


as it dances

around me


Poem 10

The me that is


in my


is only

a piece

of me

she is only the part that



the image I hold in my mind

is skewed

from perceptions

expertly crafted

diligently molded

from the beginning

of my time

I can not see the she

that stands in for me

and sometimes I wonder

which one of us

is real?



NaPoWriMo Poems 11-20

Love in the Time of Ferguson