2018 National Poetry Month
Napkin-Pocket Poems
will be added throughout
the month of April
To Celebrate National Poetry Month in April
Sprinkle your pocket
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
