#disheveledfemme writing

[disheveledfemme]

My dad used to cut his ice cream out of the carton with a butterknife. I asked him why he didn’t just use his spoon. He said “the knife doesn’t bend.” We had an ice cream scoop. A sturdy, metal one, my great-grandmother’s, that warmed in your hand and softened the ice cream; the task becoming easier the longer you held on. And maybe that was the problem. The cut of the knife was safer than it was to bend, or worse, to warm from a touch long enough to soften.

#poetry #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #spilled ink #prose poetry #disheveledfemme writing #1/30

[lifesizehysteria]

As I’ve mentioned, I will be doing National Poetry Writing Month again this year. It’ll be my fourth year in a row of attempting it. It’s a fun project that forces me to just write without over-editing or thinking too much. I always get at least a couple really solid poems out of it and it stretches my writing muscles in a different direction from fanfic. If you’re interested, @disheveledfemme is my non-fandom writing blog and that’s where I post my poems. You can check out my past NaPoWriMo pieces as well as all other original works in my writing tag. If you follow me here and you’re planning on doing NaPoWriMo, let me know so I can follow and read your work!

#my life #napowrimo

[disheveledfemme]

I will climb the rocky side

of the highest mountain,

leap from the edge of the grand canyon,

catching wind to soar.

I will build a ladder,

so tall its rungs lean on the moon.

I will do anything

to reach the clouds,

if it means I can spend my life dreaming.

#poetry #spilled ink #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #prompt: write a poem that challenges an idiom and i chose 'head in the clouds' #disheveledfemme writing #7/30

[disheveledfemme]

There he goes, poor little thing,

just trying to assist.

Sweet little ball of dingy brown fluff,

to clean he cannot resist.

It may seem quite funny

of a little dust bunny

to love cleaning up all the grime.

Yet, he sweeps up the crumbs, 

with a tune that he hums,

unaware of his dust left behind.

#napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #spilled ink #poetry #prompt: write about a mythical creature doing something unexpected #this is so not my typical poetry but the image tickled me and the prompt is pretty silly by nature anyway #disheveledfemme writing #5/30

[disheveledfemme]

I think it must be true that we exist in a million iterations—a different You for every person you’ve known. We hold snapshots of strangers, make collages of loved ones on the pages of our hearts. I don’t know who my son will be when he’s 10 or 23 or 58. I don’t know who he will be to anyone else But as he grows, as I paste more pieces of him together, certain things will always be a part of the Him that exists in me. Silly things like the whistle of a train, the speckled green of Minecraft blocks, and hand drawn mazes. Beautiful things like his pale green eyes and the gentleness as he held his newborn sisters for the first time. There will be so much more, so many new pieces of him to add but I hope that when he’s 10 or 23 or 58 he won’t mind that I think of him every time I hear the Dora the Explorer theme song because it was the first thing he decided he loved.

#poetry #prose poem #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #disheveledfemme writing #this didn’t turn out how I wanted it to but it’s time to just let it go #something to revisit later perhaps #16/30

[disheveledfemme]

Laughter, sweet, musical chiming, swirling, shimmering gold like sun drops: magic.

#poetry #spilled ink #cinquain #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #disheveledfemme writing #15/30 #for a

[disheveledfemme]

Sometimes it feels like we are standing on opposite sides of a canyon—

A gaping sinkhole where our affection used to live.

Sometimes it feels like the place we used to call home is down at the bottom, abandoned—

collecting dust through broken window panes, floorboards creaking beneath our pacing memories.

Sometimes the divide feels so wide that no bridge could ever cross it,

your figure fading into the atmosphere, my heart fading into my chest.

But a bridge is a poor substitute for stubborn hearts and common ground

so if we follow the edge of the cliff, even though we must look away to make the journey,

we can trust each other to keep moving forward, around the edge

until apart becomes together, where we will build our new home.

#poetry #spilled ink #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #disheveledfemme writing #prompt: write a love poem #this not your traditional love poem #but I think it still counts #I am catching up #this was supposed to be for the 10th #10/30

[disheveledfemme]

So much of motherhood is wasted

worrying about worst cases,

always planning, preventing.

Then I remember to

look up from the fear

and there you are,

reminding,

me to

live.

#poetry #nonet #spilled ink #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #prompt: write a nonet #disheveledfemme writing #9/30

[disheveledfemme]

An April snow falls,

melting on the spring-thawed ground—

I am stubborn, too.

#poetry #spilled ink #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #haiku #disheveledfemme writing #8/30

[disheveledfemme]

Branches twist and sway, scratching

like claws against the gray sky,

trunks rocking, their roots firm

and unbothered below where

I stand, planted, unwavering,

the wind at my back.

#napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #poetry #spilled ink #disheveledfemme writing #prompt: write about something big #11/30 #this was going to be a haiku but ended up having more to say

[disheveledfemme]

It’s in the tiniest bit of light,

Impossible to ignore.

Not just for the way it speaks

To the blood in your veins.

Remember the voice,

The furious overtones, the

Wild and the wicked.

And let the light beckon you to

Want with every piece of you, the way

It used to feel to want,

Back when you were wild.

#napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #poetry #spilled ink #prompt: write an acrostic poem in which the first word of each line create a treasured line from another poem #this is from a Mary Oliver poem that I cannot remember the title of atm #disheveledfemme writing #6/30

[disheveledfemme]

You can take two trees, twist the trunks, as they grow inch by inch until they are wrapped up and knotted, inseparable above ground while roots weave beneath the soil and leaves commingle into a single canopy.

But two trees are still two trees, no matter how tightly their bodies are wound. And even while their branches reach, clinging to their habitual grasp— the only way they have ever known— is that enough to stop them growing in opposite directions?

#napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #spilled ink #poetry #disheveledfemme writing #2/30

[disheveledfemme]

It may not look like much,

a bowl of popcorn sat between us,

cartoons on tv.

And yet, when you giggle

at that silly blue dog,

and grin when I pluck

the buttery kernel offered

by your tiny fingers, I’m sure

life can’t get better than this.

#napowrimo 2022 #napowrimo #poetry #spilled ink #disheveledfemme writing #prompt: write about something small #for a #12/30

[disheveledfemme]

Inevitable—

Poems about itchy eyes,

heavy, slow-blinking.

Unavoidable poems

for poets who write too late.

#napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #poetry #spilled ink #tanka #disheveledfemme writing #I always have at least one poem about being tired #and one about having nothing to write about #13/30

[disheveledfemme]

My whole body aches

I’m too tired to keep caring.

It is time to sleep.

#poetry #haiku #spilled ink #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #disheveledfemme writing #17/30 #i'm falling behind but i refuse to give up

[disheveledfemme]

Yet again, I go to bed with a heavy heart. I am so tired of feeling this weight against my ribs. I ache to curl into it, to fold myself until I am so small I can fit into a pocket, soft and warm, and nurse my heart until it feels bearable to stand.

#poetry #prose poetry #napowrimo #napowrimo 2022 #disheveledfemme writing #14/30