don’t say tangle again
say ravel, say twist
wedges of wings point north
my broken toe points in
don’t say try again
say strive, say aim
the tide rises in my shoes
say move, then move
*16/100: 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.
saunterstep beside me
pretend you flashcapture
everymoment
ohthelightreallylovesyou
dreamyou
beautybeautybeauty
wordslike whisperskin
foldtogether
alwaystouching
sunlightyou knows howto
saunterstep beside me
*15/100: 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.
what would you pay for this bit of blue?
i will throw in flour dust
and a turmeric-stained apron.
you might find bent hinges,
snippets of moon song,
silver strands curling at the edges.
moth light and steady sandstone.
cloudy mirrors, well-worn paths,
watercolor stained jars,
books under beds, and
hollows shaped by holding.
what would you pay me
for this bit of blue?
*14/100: 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.
it’s always double yellow lines
and a lone cow on a hill.
elephant rock and a tunnel of trees.
mustard and pink dancing
among prickly brown.
a leaning silo and
clusters of sheep.
it’s always new music
and torn bags of chips.
the wooly highlands
and the old chapel bell.
towering piles of pillows.
dominoes shifting in a tin.
tomato soup with black pepper.
it’s always watching flames dance
and half-finished puzzles.
a wooden bowl of taffy and
stuffies in the dumbwaiter.
mountains of sandy shoes.
chairs pushed together
and seashell coffee cups.
it’s always…?
*13/100: 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.
a glittery speck of sun
winked through lacy trees,
condensing clouds in the backseat.
another world layered on ours—
where cars hover,
and asphalt floats.
as a child, i pressed against the glass
framed in heavy, dark oak.
hours dissolved into the silver coating
whispering to the girl inside.
she wore her hair cropped short,
kept her candy in the open,
and spoke in thunder.
years blurred the glass,
until this afternoon—
loading grocery bags into the van,
the rear window swallowed the sky.
trapped in the glass,
the clouds drifted,
and a familiar shadow smiled.
*12/100: 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 stack the sky vertically, holding
space for falling words, but summer
heat traps crooked letters, twisting
type for tiny starlings to feast—pecking
pesky verbs, spitting harsh consonants
onto parched summer grass. he
said ‘imagine that’ and ‘birds like
nests,’ so i scurry and scrawl every tree,
gathering orphaned lettered pieces of you,
to anchor my pillow as ink-black night
bleeds with barely a moon. quiet, listen
to the nothing of my whispering breath
as soft feathers fold the dark—
with a tiny click.
*11/100: 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.
whisper soft again, friend
describe cold smoke, warm mother
blue-glazed bowl of soup
another cat in the window
dusty fan-blown strands
ten whole days widen slits
where tiny words swallowed
or tap danced
or overly devoured
around wispy sunlight fingers
peeled painted eyelids open
spiraled dragon breath
rocks stacked with books
green moss lingered
two arms flung upward
toward you
*10/100: 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.
expose my roots in warm sunlight
soften all stems
let pearls fall
lean in closer
geosmin scented breath
see how twisted old thoughts grow
don’t go yet
shine through the particles
show me yours
*9/100: 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.
my shadow threw flowers
into the sea for you. floated
words on petals, threads
for you to pull. calling
through bright sun, casting
into murky waters. see
how closed curtains float
when blown. fresh lemon
wind leaning against bark
until the wood vibrates
you—again and again.
*8/100: 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 Spider-Man comes to your house,
you unlock the deadbolt and brace yourself.
He has to clear the entryway at a full sprint,
and you don’t want to be collateral damage.
When Spider-Man comes to your house,
you better have sourdough toast, pickles,
and sparkling water on the counter.
Apparently, saving the neighborhood
requires a very specific diet.
When Spider-Man comes to your house,
he will absolutely chase your rabbit around the backyard.
He’ll get burrs stuck to his polyester muscles,
sit in the hammock to pick them off,
and roast your gardening skills.
When Spider-Man comes to your house,
he might peel back his mask just far enough to breathe,
expose his secret identity,
and clobber you at dominoes
until he literally rolls off his chair laughing.
When Spider-Man comes to your house,
you will notice the exact moment
his shins match the length of yours.
You’ll look at his massive feet,
look at the trail of stuffed animals leading into the hallway,
and accept reality:
A superhero is in your living room right now.
So you forget the gardening. You ignore the toys.
And you get on the floor.
*7/100: 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 