National Poetry Month - Pocket Poems

poems all over the land, in library books, in cafes, on buses, in church, at the office, on trains, planes, attached to your email, anywhere you can tuck a poem to be found.

What are pocket poems? Short-short poems that fit on a scrap of paper, a napkin, or cut in squares, small enough to fit in a pocket.

Email me your best short pocket poem, and I will share them on our website for the month of April.

lillypressrpj@aol.com

National Poetry Month

is a month-long, national celebration of poetry established by the Academy of American Poets. The concept is to widen the attention of individuals and the media—to the art of poetry, to living poets, to our complex poetic heritage, and to poetry books and journals of wide aesthetic range and concern.

a block from the beach

harvesting

sand between my toes

—Judith A. Lawrence

Fog

You came through the fog

of my mind at an appropriate time.

At least at the time it seemed

appropriate. Well everything did.

—Susan Tepper

Moonset

When these near-

one-a.m. streets

are still

& the air is cooling

the half-moon falls

beyond the western hills,

slipping beyond

filigree trees

— Lorraine Caputo

Dusk

Evening gathers its caucus

in green-black robes.

Shadows over the pond

call the day to order,

murmur the night’s agenda.

—Cheryl A. Van Beek

April Fools

Aren’t we hoping

for a bit more warmth

to waken the violets

soft wind to quiver

open snowdrops

chickadees nestbuilding

even as clouds

drop pellets of

ice covered snow

—Elaine Reardon

Desert Rain

I worship the sun, even as

I know this sweet rain

makes the grasses sing

to life.

—Beate Sigriddaughter

Silly

The situation became dire

when we hinted at love

in silly terms using silly names

for what was never to be.

—Susan Tepper

"Illusion" by Judith A. Lawrence

Horizon

(Venus)

to rise upon the grey sand

& far above the

horizon, a bright star shines

in the fuchsia sunset sky

— Lorraine Caputo

Alive

A silhouette against rainbow life

A widow.

Why can’t she start a new life?

They feel the wilted roses

Are of no use

But they still give off

A strong and sweet fragrance

A fragrance which says

I am still alive!

—Sravani Singampalli

Do not

Don’t tell me that the oceans

Are deep and blue.

Tell me that oceans have hurricanes too.

Don’t say that love is the

Most sweetest and magical thing.

Say that true love is also

An unbearable pain.

Don’t advise me to dream big

Advise me to dream disasters too.

—Sravani Singampalli

Early morning web,

Spider huddles in corner,

Broom tears across strands.

—Leah Mueller

Pollination

From line to line,

Lusty, greedy, thirsty.

Drunken, dizzy-

eddying melody.

The mind, swollen, seduced

by words, sinks softly, stuporous.

and pollinates wayward thoughts.

Tomorrow a song will ripen and fall

—Maya Sharma Sriram

16 Days Past

There’s a dark spot in my heart.

Shined a flashlight inside

to clear the cobwebs out.

Instead I found question marks,

echoes of your laughter,

the faint smell of lilac candles,

fabric softener, and cigarette smoke.

—Jen Pezzo

152 Days Past

A thought bloomed

forward in my concentration

of mundane things;

there is a place

for the twinkle of your laughter,

in a poem somewhere,

like spring water trickles

down mountain-cragged spaces.

—Jen Pezzo

Spring Medley

April quietly turns

emerald green.

Breezes shake apple

blossoms…an aromatic

blizzard.

Listen to this soft

symphony of raindrops.

After showers, gardens

of stars flower.

Evening is the dawn

of night time.

Meteors write poetry

across heaven.

—Joan McNerney

Carpe Diem

Sunlight winks at the grass,

sharpens each blade.

Its hot breath polishes

the silver for company

pulsing with morning’s

possibilities.

—Cheryl A. Van Beek

Flights of Fancy

Buzzards swirl

a carousel in the sky

then burst apart

like a yanked necklace

of black pearls.

—Cheryl A. Van Beek

Today

I mourn the losses

and cut branches of

previous tears

from my side.

Life continues on

a rolling basis,

and the sun is shining today.

—Alyssa Trivett

Monday Morning

My coffee stained fingerprints

leave their chalk outline

on office folders,

Monday morning madness

as I swim in paperwork

as the oldies hiss

from the radio.

—Alyssa Trivett

Lotus

If in the afternoon I come upon a land

and find the lotus blooming there,

Will I recognize it’s flowers and fruits,

I wonder.

Will I remember its story,

I wonder.

And in the evening,

after sniffing the fragrance

of the flowers and tasting the fruit,

will I have forgotten

to wonder.

—Lynn White

"Beachcomber," by Judith A. Lawrence

Hot House Blooms by Judith A. Lawrence

Sunflowers and Violets

by Judith A. Lawrence

Night Blooms

by Judith A. Lawrence

In a Perfect World

In a perfect world

I would

now walk by the ocean

mist in my hair

In a perfect world

I am

now walking the forest path

a horned lizard scrambles

across the way

—Beate Sigriddaughter

I Believe

Vivaldi wrote Spring

after listening

to a red winged blackbird

sing.

It's probably not true,

but I so like believing.

—Beate Sigriddaughter

Just Saying...

death defies description

unless experienced

its only theory

—Judy Shepps Battle

Perspective

Biography slips into

irrelevance as gray

hairs converge and

eye sight diminishes.

—Judy Shepps Battle

Morning

My fingers talk

To you

As the sun rises,

Rejoice in the warmth

Of your skin,

Raise

The level of discourse

To a silent,

Digital high.

—Iris N. Schwartz

Yesterday’s Email Rejection

We enjoyed your work,

But it’s not for us.

This doesn’t mean

It’s unpublishable.

To discuss further,

Join our Poets and

Writers Rejection Group

When we have an opening.

—Iris N. Schwartz

once I was a child

old as earth

i grew young in time

—Judith A. Lawrence

Poppy Field Dreams by Judith A. Lawrence

Two Portraits

Kuan Yin hangs at right angles

From my mother, a child.

A large spider, white, dangles

Between them, webbing wild

Threads to bind the two figures.

From the bridging web I’m drawn

To both, fighting off big tears.

Spider woman carries on.

—I.S. Welsh

Haiku #1

Two egrets ride up

dead-end traffic like white stones

skimming swamp-pond joy.

—Catherine Arra

Haiku #2

Moon face rise tonight

feather palms smooth crater cheeks

pond frogs sing odes: You.

—Catherine Arra

by the tulip patch

a momma cat

hides her kittens

—Patricia Carragon

undefeated

the crocus wins

over the snow

—Patricia Carragon

S’Mores

Firelight bathes faces.

Marshmallows melt—yummy mess.

Grandma’s garden glows.

—Faye Eichholzer

Why My Mom Isn’t Martha Stewart

Martha Stewart is fake

Silver balls on cake

Gold leafed napkin rings

Wrapped up useless things.

Mom is real

Orange peel

Flowers grown with heart

Not-wrapped garden art.

—Carrie Firestone

Heart Beat

On this quiet night, snow

drifts under streetlamps,

as the air turns whiter and colder.

My dreams drift out in sighs,

like my icy breath—listen,

can you hear my heart beat—

its steady drum creates a fist of warmth

to thaw this frozen dark.

—Rosalie Sanara Petrouske

Sleep-Meandering

The haunting faint sound

of a whippoorwill’s tune

and mischievous shadows

of midnight’s full moon

harbor dim shades of light

which are grayer than white

on the overgrown paths

of the dark moors we roam

while in restless confusion,

we wander at home.

— Ken Gosse

A Bittersweet Groundhog's Day ~

At Owl Creek Bridge when I was hung,

I recalled prothalamium sung,

When I rejoined my wife

at the end of my life,

the rope broke

again while

I swung.

— Ken Gosse

Lesson

The plants we thought had died last year

Survived the cold to reappear.

—Juleigh Howard-Hobson

Potted Plants all in a Row by Judith A. Lawrence

Take Heart - a nonet

Rebirth is messy and it is rough--

Only those with faith strong enough

To sustain them during tough

And trying times survive.

To not only thrive

But to arrive

In control,

Their soul:

Whole.

—Juleigh Howard-Hobson

Love’s End Trilogy

Emotional Embrace of Two Lovers

“I love you,” she said.

I loved her from the day we met.

I had dreamed of this oratory spell.

After a long wait, the bonding plateau

of emotion had stunned us

With its embrace.

—Tom Fegan

A Ripple In The Fabric

“I must see him once more,”

she pleaded.

The heaviness encircled my sinking heart.

“I must know if there is anything left,”

she declared.

My eyes watered. How could she love me?

Like a ripple in the fabric makes easy tear;

So were my feelings.

—Tom Fegan

Gone

My trust was wilted.

My interest vanquished.

Love is an unbreakable bond between two.

Right?

Unless one is gone.

—Tom Fegan

Sybil

be civil

silly girl

lest silenced

by sibilants

substantially

—Fay L. Loomis

Lacuna

Serpentine words cut between us

hard, brittle

One more stroke of hammer to chisel

will break me

I long for the lacuna

of tenderness

—Fay L. Loomis

Introducing a Mom/Daughter Napkin Poem duo

Hello Geese

Honking heavens above

Those formal V’s you make

Make me wish

That I might fly with you

In such order. Would that

My life was so shaped

That formation came to me

With ease, that peace was mine

Like my pond is yours.

—José Sotolongo

Ode’ Min Gizis (Strawberry Moon)

Tonight,

a silken hook of moon rises

over the city’s buildings,

ripples a ribbon of white

for a moment in the west

as Earth slowly rotates.

My lip catches on its

pointed edge.

—Rosalie Sanara Petrouske

Crumbs

They hide—

In closets, attics,

A tight-fisted corner

Of the silverware drawer.

In search of your crumbs.

—Susan Tepper

Winter Haiku

splayed broom of treetop

overlying a full moon

luminous slices.

—Carol Shank

Good Intentions

A well-respected praying mantis

ventured off to save Atlantis.

Though he prayed with all his might

Atlantis vanished overnight.

—Carol Shank

Morning Senryū

the smell of bacon

drifts from the adjoining flat

a memory stirs

—Judith A. Lawrence

I Bring My Problems to the Mountains

I bring my

problems to

the mountains

because the

mountains look

down on them

and make them

seem so small.

—Claudine Nash

Barn View by Judith A. lawrence

Frozen Roses

Too soon, your buds appear

Long days fool you into life.

No fear of cool yea frigid

Nights have you

As growth is siphoned

That sunlight meek and timid

Might have spurred

And made you bloom.

—José Sotolongo

Disturb

Small things disturb my sleep:

lint, softness, breath.

The wood faeries

chomping their supper of twigs.

—Susan Tepper

Letting Go: A Bussokusekika

Those who go away

were never destined to stay

no words could stop them

or make them retrieve their steps

let them go with grace to make

room for those who come to stay

—Nalini Priyadarshni

Sun & Dew: A Bussokusekika

First rays of sunlight

turn dew covered grass into

valley of diamonds

ethereal beauty lasts till

sun rides high into sky and

licks them off to the last drop

—Nalini Priyadarshni

Note:

Bussokusekika is an ancient Japanese poetic form. It was found etched upon a stone at a ruined Buddhist temple. The name means “footprints of Buddha” and has a 5-7-5-7-7-7 (strict) syllable count.

Branches

Fortitude, a plump purple tree.

How exquisite its brawny branches!

The way they prop up day’s light.

The way they refuse to conform to timidity.

— Loretta Diane Walker

Late this Evening

winter hikes her skirt

ruffles loitering flakes of cold

ravens croak darkness

— Loretta Diane Walker

During the Summer in Odessa, Texas

heat thick as gravy

rains down from this desert sky

beauty’s a mirage

— Loretta Diane Walker

Here and There

The atmosphere is dense

here,

but so thin there.

An angel wing pokes

a little hole

through which I can hear

the whisperings of stars,

the heartbeat of my

dead brother,

and somehow in resounding silence

—the endless patience of God.

— Phoebe Wilcox

Struggle

Dark rustling defines

Who I am

In the power struggle

Nobody told me

It would take so much

To keep the flower alive.

—Susan Tepper

Spring?

Spring comes with her frilly crinolines

But since you left

In my heart

It is still Winter; *

—Laine Cote'

Murky Lagoon

toes dangle in the rippling water

shadows move beneath the moon

wet footprints sneak inside

glittery gold sinks to the bottom

secrets linger at the lagoon

—Deborah Ramos

Volcanic Reef

Sea glass eyes buried

in ancient grains of urchins and corals.

Remnants of seaweed feet

trace skeletons of volcanic shells.

Thousand year old winds

hail the Mermaid Queen

secretly stolen by the reckless tide.

—Deborah Ramos

Woodpile

My beautiful splintered woodpile

—the fallen sacrifice of trees,

the exertions of the men

who sawed and split the logs,

and my opportunistically gathered kindling,

my eagle-eyeing of all the best sticks.

Oooh—it’s so dry!

Oooh—it will fit perfectly into my stove!

Now, all at my whim,

as spring comes slowly,

there is still, on many evenings,

a red hot blaze of jewels

in my living room, my heart, my life.

—Phoebe Wilcox

Ocean Magic (2005)

The silence of the ocean after a wave,

Which for a moment startles,

Making one wonder if the world

has stopped spinning,

Freezing motion and time.

The crashing of the next wave

jump starts the earth back to life.

—Cynthia Knoop

Ocean in a Box by Judith A. Lawrence

Silence

Shove flowers

In your mouth

Silence

The longing

—Susan Tepper

in our empty house

I can still hear your laughter

but you are not here

—Gerald A. McBreen

the divorced couple

puzzle over their sudden

urge to reunite

—Gerald A. McBreen

Seven Year Itch

In reverse –

mine’s love

for seven

then a bonus

for letting go.

— Susan Tepper

Invitation to a Poem

(message send failure)

Tumble, lull,

ambulance glare.

There's no way to change

the channel on this

laundromat TV

and no one here

with the authority to

anyhow.

...

No bars.

—Chris Nold

Sunday morning tea

low thud of pine cones

on the ground

—Sana Tamreen Mohammed

The Trail

Mountain range,

I follow you

like waves after waves

breaking on rocks.

—Sana Tamreen Mohammed

After the Rain by Judith A. Lawrence

Cleansing

the patter of rain

each morning

followed by sunshine

—Judith A. Lawrence

White Trees

After the cold months

the white trees come

one of the first to bloom

in a snowy burst

like a bride jumping out of a cake.

My first wedding I wore blue.

The second time a seashell pink.

I’m ready to step into white

after the long cold spell

Shedding

roots, stems, branches—

Whatever might bind me.

— Susan Tepper

Introduction on an Index Card

I’m a lover in poet’s clothing

who moves at 24 frames per second

gladly accepting a godless universe

while Das Lied von der Erde

echoes in my brain

and the injustice of men

fractures my heart

—Robert E. Blenheim

Joy by Judith A. Lawrence