feel the tug
iron pulling
spinning fast
you blur beside me
was it a breath ago
or was it yesterday
hold my hand
everything bleeds into track
*30/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
talk to me about roundness,
the gravity where we cluster,
thick skin, soft insides,
held on a single wire.
remind me of change:
sweet to complex,
sharp lines giving to sun,
resting in the quiet wood.
forgive me for bitter edges,
seasons grown wild, distant.
breaking us open,
whole enough to mend.
tell me about anchors,
roots wound together—
rings forged from fire
green against the world.
*29/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
words don’t matter
you do
across a table
carrying our years
cups in hand
shadow pens
starry paper
ray dotted cheeks
called-out names like a song
jane says look up
we rewrite the room
*28/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
behind the lens
clouds grow limbs
horizons are eyes
hands lanterns
turn toward me
whitecap dance
let sand feed you
birds mother you
seaweed turns blanket
shells home
let me see you
breathe
*26/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
venus promises astrology
earth eyes shining
houses in alignment
mercury on water
hold the lantern
copper pot overfilling
tell me what you see
moon promises alchemy
elements within palms
draw a diagram
seven-part light
bareback rider
strong silver chain
tell me what you see
earth promises center
fingertips reaching
voices folding
firelight gathering
bracing together
container of all
tell me what you see
i see home
*25/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
you’ve been here before
i’ve seen you
hiding behind the stones
hands filled with shells
feet covered in sand
laughing with the wind
our shadows danced
two merging into one
a forgotten fish
a billion bubbles blinking
small words made clear
you’ve been here before
i’ve seen you
stay
*24/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
“I am who I am meant to be. I am this poem.
I am moose inside Light.“—Neil
moose runs through stars
now
playing tag with light
his
threads collect cinnamon
pain
turned to bottled milk
absorbed
within the belly of a cat
amethyst sits on shelf
now
heavy dust collecting
her
dreams into bound pages
pain
liquid rain sparks inside
swallowed
with another cup of coffee
gravity loses its grip
next
dust blows off the pages
both
floating blue whales
fear
quietly dissolved by salt
joined
in the belly of the universe
*22/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
hiding behind a teetering tower of chairs sits
chipped glass words.
burnt popcorn words.
banana slug words.
water-stained trunks choke them down.
wardrobes jammed against the wall.
floorboards nailed shut.
at night they escape.
muffled cries through hallways.
doors which don’t open.
holes in the floor.
don’t listen.
don’t look.
they are already in the air.
*20/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
when my poem coyote hunts
it makes no sound.
hunger guides it—
a vibration like gnawing, like remembering,
like stalking white rabbits through thick pages.
once i dreamed it howled,
loud enough to rearrange my ribcage
into a den.
you were there, hunting too,
a thread tied between us
like a leash, or maybe
an umbilical cord.
sunlight pressed into our skin,
warming our fur until we rolled over,
leaving nothing but words
cooling in the dirt.
*19/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
leaning on her staff
shuffling barefoot
she wavers slightly
heavy with the moon’s dark spill.
a raw star whispers from the foam:
tell me a story about me and the sea.
so she speaks,
spilling salt and history,
rocks rattling in her pockets,
strands of silver falling into green,
as dusk crabs scuttle home
and the sky becomes womb-red—
another cycle she must carry.
leaning on her staff
shuffling barefoot
she asks the waves:
how many more moons?
*17/100: For the next 100 days, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day.
**All photos are mine, taken with an Olympus E-M1 MarkII and edited with Lightroom Classic.
Bridgette Tales 