Tonight The Moon (NaPoWriMo Day 30)

moon

Tonight the moon
frosts my hands
and I cup them
to catch the
liquid beams.

I bring them to
my lips
for a taste
and I think
of you,

how you
make me feel –
a stomach full of
dreams
wished on
the moon

Copyright © 2015 Amaryllis Torres

AHHH! I can’t believe NaPoWriMo is over! I also can’t believe I actually did it…haha. My first NaPoWriMo taught me many things, which I’ll summarize in another post, but boy am I relieved to have made it all the way through. Kudos to those of you who do this every year!

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Screen Game (NaPoWriMo Day 26)

screen

I still remember my
nose pressed to the wooden
window sill in the big yellow
house of my childhood,

breathing deep the scent
of dirt that filtered in
through the screens
on a hot windy day.

I’d squish my fingers
against the screen’s
dark firm netting but
no matter how hard I
pushed, my fingers couldn’t
get through. They only
came away with a criss-cross
of indentations.

A fly or two somehow got
inside and they’d waddle
around, fat and noisy,
rubbing those arms together
as they thought up a plan
of escape.

Sometimes they tried my
screen game
but they were
worse at it than me.

 

Copyright © 2015 Amaryllis Torres

Antarctica (NaPoWriMo Day 22)

Hello, and Happy Earth Day!

Today’s prompt celebrates the occasion by suggesting a pastoral poem. Basically, write about nature. I just so happened to have watched an amazing documentary yesterday, Antarctica: A Year On Ice, and I literally cried from the beauty of the brilliant night sky. I was also inspired by one woman’s story who described when she saw the Southern Lights for the first time. Enjoy.

southernlights

Six month winter chill
cuts to the bone
bypassing
layers and layers
of defenses
as the dark cold
ravages the flesh,
unforgiving

while the sun dares
not interfere from
his hiding place beyond
the horizon

One solace:

Fairy dust sprinkled
’round, green as
forgotten spring

dancing down from
spinning, unblemished
night-curtain above

to sweep me to
worlds beyond or
heaven’s gate
(perhaps one and
the same)

It is only afterward that I
feel the hard crunch of ice at
my knees

and the frozen tears
dangling from
my cheek

Copyright © 2015 Amaryllis Torres

Grand Alley Sky (NaPoWriMo Day 14)

lightning

 

Mother always said
that God
had his fun, too –

bowling
with the angels
was a favorite
pastime.

How hard he
threw the ball, I
knew. Pins crashing
kept me up
for hours

and if I
squinted hard
enough, I could
see them
dancing with the
disco lights
just behind the curtain-clouds.

One day I’ll join
them in that grand
alley, see his
laughing face when
he bowls another
strike

and forget my speech about all
those spoiled
bedtimes;
He too knows

time flies when
you’re having
fun.

 

Copyright © 2015 Amaryllis Torres

Two Thrusting Limbs (NaPoWriMo Day 9)

Two thrusting limbs
from same
roots grow:

I and
Sister Pride

My branches
dip low
with buds of
green peeking
out from
fragile stems,
delicate as veins –
only to be plucked and
whisked away by the
breeze

Meanwhile
Sister Pride, dressed
in rotting bark twists
and stretches knobbly
fingers toward the
heavens, flaunting
petaled hair that stinks
of decay and crumbles to
nothing

Pride and I,
well,
I try

but wonder at
times

if cut to
a stump,
who will die?
Pride or I?

Copyright © 2015 by Amaryllis Torres

Rain Lily Wild (NaPoWriMo Day 6)

Rain Lily Wild

My lover is the Goodest-Good.

He
lays at my feet a field of
swaying Rain
Lilies

where others would pluck
a single stem from the
roots and leave a clumping mess
of dirt behind.

When days go by the lily
fades to shrinking brown,
shoulders hunched with sadness
at the memory of

its family – far away;
its home – soft, endless earth;
its friends – the sun and sky and rain.

Its last days are subject to
mere counterfeit –

the weak dribble-wet through a
metal spout;

sunlight filtered through a
barrier of glass

(through which wind cannot embrace
and sound is muted to a low,
sad hum).

Not so with my lover.

He is wild as the
aching heart of the
Rain Lily.

He drinks the sun
and hugs the earth
and whispers sweetly to
each drop
that falls from
sky

and in our field of lilies
our roots are

love

 

Copyright © 2015 by Amaryllis Torres