lizards dart out of the bushes
every time I open the front door
rustling warnings when I don’t
need them. wrote the word
connection over and over within
lined pages of my green
goddess notebook, planning
return of self, for self, to others
or is it for others? today, tomorrow—
each day is another chance
for words to gather within
my apron pockets if only fingers
weren’t so tired. or
slippery. forgiveness given
when not asked for, makes arms
ache for something lost. no, never
was. illusions rustle whispering
here we go again, eat until full
this time. don’t worry about crumbs—
you don’t have to clean everything
everyone—
you can rustle too
whenever you want.
1/100
For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day. I hope you’ll follow along.
Bridgette Tales 
I like the free glowing thoughts of this poem Bridgette. Kudos 👏🏾
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Make that free flowing* though glowing is also quite fitting (Freudian slip may be🫣)
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I sure with WP had a way to edit our comments after we quickly hit send. Thank you for the kind words. I’m excited to be back to writing poetry, but a bit nervous the words will come every day.
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You’ll find your groove, no doubt.
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I like the free flow Bridgette. My favourite lines are
“for words to gather within
my apron pockets if only fingers
weren’t so tired”
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Thank you. I’m nervous about how this project will go, but also hopeful it will spark new connections.
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👍🏼😀
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This is really beautiful. I especially love the line “each day is another chance for words to gather within my apron pockets…” ❤️ As a writer, totally feel that!
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Thanks! It’s strange embarking on another project, but also exciting. I sat down to see if I had any words this morning and realized I had plenty. My morning pages returned in a flash, like an exhale, as did this free form poem. I’m excited to see where this takes me.
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The poem talks about old reflexes of fear, caretaking, and imagined loss. Those are powerfully words: forgiveness given / when not asked for, makes arms / ache for something lost. no, never /was.…
I loved how it moves from listening to the world’s warnings to granting oneself the freedom to rustle.
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I loved the words gathering in the apron pockets, mom waiting for the moment to write.
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I’m always waiting for time to be more prevalent, for things to be clean and ready, but as I already know, that’s not possible. We write around the mess, or maybe with it.
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Yes, with it, because of it and alongside it. ; )
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Bridgette, I am struck by how the poem turns “rustling” from an outside warning into a kind of inner permission, ending with the quiet but powerful reminder that you do not have to clean up everything for everyone.
~David
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Thank you so much, David. I’m trying to get out of my head with these poems by making myself write a lot more-less time to over analyze and criticize myself into stopping. I truly appreciate you reading my work ❤️
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*hug*
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Back at you ❤️
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Yay. Looking forward as to how you approach this project and trying to learn something from your creativity as I get into the second half of my own 100 poems. (I have a red notebook :-))
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I didn’t know you were doing a 100 poems as well. How wonderful! I’m hoping this will reignite my creativity and help me finish up my poetry book that I’m writing in memorial of my friend Neil. I think connection will be a recurring theme I’m exploring.
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I’ve no hope of reaching your levels but writing poetry I find therapeutic, except when I cross out all the lines and start again 🙂
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You are too kind. I use poetry as therapy too, as it’s so good at dialing in what exactly I’m feeling at a deeper level. I start over a bunch too! I have pages and pages of words that are me just trying to figure out what I want to say.
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I’ve probably got no deeper levels to give voice to – but that’s ok, I keep it mainly light. Look forward to your next piece of work.
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This expesses the feeling you had well, thank you.
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Thank you for reading ❤️
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Nice start. Wishing you the best to remain consistent!
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Thank you. I’ve found challenges work best for my brain, as it helps me to outrun my inner critic.
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