10/30
Shakespeare’s measured love
Kubrik’s fractured time
Photography’s micro-moments
Nature’s meditative breath
Animal’s magical simplicity
Book’s escape plan
Quiet’s unspoken pain
Legacy’s abandonment core
Love’s imperceptible gaze
More short poems:
1/30: not my cat
2/30: comfort
3/30: ache
4/30: remember
5/30: graduation
6/30: big love
7/30: Heavy and light
8/30: delicate
9/30: leaping
8/30
if the sun shines
just right
can you see through
my words?
if my words resonate
just right
can you reach into
my pain?
if my pain heals
just right
can you truly see
my love?
More short poems:
1/30: not my cat
2/30: comfort
3/30: ache
4/30: remember
5/30: graduation
6/30: big love
7/30: Heavy and light
with picking out bright yellow sunflowers from Trader Joe’s and hoping my eyes aren’t still puffy from crying myself to sleep last night
with wearing my expensive Dior lip gloss 026, intense mauve shimmer, because it makes me feel fancy
with drinking water from the turtle cup with the metal straw, the one my best friend made for me, because it makes everything taste better
with seeing the text I sent my dad about my feelings was read on Sunday but he’s still not responded, and deciding not to send another one
with wearing the colorful flower dress my four-year-old nephew said was his favorite because it makes me look like a garden
with playing the absolute stupidest game ever on the Nintendo Wii with the teens, drinking Grimace’s birthday shakes, and laughing so hard I remember kegel exercises are important
with waking up early to water outside and saying hi to three bumblebees and one hummingbird who lingered close enough I could see how incredible their wings are
with moving my watermelon plant to another part of the yard because it’s getting choked out by the enormous pumpkin leaves and wanting it to have a chance to survive
with watching all 10 episodes of Drag Me to Dinner with my daughter and wanting to hug every LGBTQ person on the planet and tell them they are loved
with having teary conversations with my teens about respect and communication knowing they will always have me and each other in their corner no matter what
with replacing the bowl of old candy on the counter with a bowl of fresh apples because I can’t make others love me the way I want to be loved, but I can eat healthier
with turning to words again and not worrying if they are good enough because that’s not the point and I can show up exactly how I am
5/30
the moon, the stars and me
watched you walk proudly
across the stage. we smiled
knowing the truth. love
doesn’t recognize such things
as endings or beginnings. only
connection and connection. love
isn’t contingent or feeble.
it doesn’t come with strings
or weights. free and full—
vast as the infinite universe.
i’m forever here for you.
More short poems:
1/30: not my cat
2/30: comfort
3/30: ache
4/30: remember
Turn up the music, turn down the lights
I got a feelin’ I’m gon’ be alright
Okay (okay), alright
It’s about damn time
On Sunday, my daughter and I attended a Lizzo concert in downtown Sacramento. It was a combined birthday present for us both and it was life-changing.
We got to the arena five hours before showtime and were lucky enough to be number 35 and 36 in line. The fans we stood beside became our friends as we waited in excitement to be let into the arena. I’d never done pit tickets before and didn’t know what to expect, but our new friends took us under their wing and walked us through the ropes.
Once inside, we got a spot on the barricade—right beside the stage! My daughter and I kept turning to each other in disbelief. It was more than we could have hoped for.
Lizzo’s DJ opened the show followed by the gorgeous Latto. One of her songs featured protest signs and we chanted “My Body, My Choice” as a crowd. The energy felt incredible.
Then, the moment came. When Lizzo took the stage in a striking purple sparkling outfit, my daughter and I cried. She is more than a performer to us, she’s a symbol of how to love your body. She’s a role model. She stands for self-love in the biggest way possible. We were starstruck! We danced, sang along at the top of our lungs, and laughed. We felt free and beautiful. We felt her magic.
When Lizzo appeared in a stunning silver robe and removed it to sing Naked to the crowd, it brought up some big feelings. I’ve had such a hard time loving my plus-sized body, but she made me believe I could. She made me believe I deserve it. We all do. What a gift!
Let down my guard, undo my robe
I’m standing here, don’t need no clothes
I’m naked
Love how you look at me naked
Come make this body feel sacred
I’m a big girl, don’t you waste it, naked
The most powerful moment of the night, for us, was when Lizzo played the song Special. This song is an anthem in our house and has played a major role in my daughter’s mental health journey. It’s a mantra and a call to self-love. We play it on the dark days as a beacon of light. We cling to it when times are hard. To hear Lizzo sing it mere feet from us was transformative. My daughter and I sobbed beside each other feeling the weight of the last few years, the bigness of what we’ve been through together, and the love we share.
In case nobody told you today
You’re special
In case nobody made you believe
You’re special
Well, I will always love you the same
You’re special
I’m so glad that you’re still with us
Broken, but damn, you’re still perfect
At one point during the song, Lizzo saw my girl sobbing and they had a moment. She gave my girl love. Directly. Life can be so hard, but that moment was pure and utter magic. I can’t thank Lizzo enough for seeing her, for her powerful music, and for making me believe in the good of people. Here’s a bit of the song for you to enjoy:
It’s been a few days since the concert and honestly, I still feel transformed. My body feels somehow more comfortable. More like my home. I wore tighter clothes the last few days and didn’t hide my arms. I felt more peaceful about my body. More in love with it. This morning I even caught my reflection in the back door while watering and thought I looked pretty. I snapped this picture so I can remember this feeling.
If you are reading this today, consider it partly a love letter to you. Yes, you. I know it’s hard to love our bodies when they don’t look like we think they “should.” But it’s okay. It really is. You can work on yourself and love yourself. You can be happy with your body right now. Please, be kind to you today. We all need you here. One more time, all together:
You’re special
I’m so glad that you’re still with us
Broken, but damn, you’re still perfect
1/30
wandering quietly into morning sun
fluffy-puffed tail held high
he jumps, greeting my hand—
dear old stranger/neighbor cat
friends, I suppose, two strays
looking simply for some comfort
purring for a brief moment
before saying goodbye once more
Note: I’m accepting a challenge to write thirty short poems (not in a row, just as they come). I’m defining short as no more than two stanzas. I was inspired by the beautiful work of my friend Neil—check out his incredible 30 poems. I’m also inspired by sceadugenga who always amazes me with his genius brevity. Feel free to join the challenge if you like.
Edited: A brilliant poet, David, mentioned to me that stanzas can be very long and he’s correct. I’ve changed the guidelines to be under 60 words instead of two stanzas. I think word count is an excellent way to measure these tiny/short/micro/baby poems. Thanks!
you get stoned
say you’re proud
say you’re sorry
say I’m beautiful
I believe you
motherhood cuts deep
your scars shine
like mine
you’ve inherited broken glass
jagged-edged shattered dreams
that are not yours
I tried smoothing them
with cold ocean waves
deep muddy lake dives
but they still cut
you don’t believe me
because fresh wounds sting
lines etched into softness
but I see you
I’m proud of you
I’m sorry
you are beautiful
Mother’s Day isn’t an easy day for many, but I hope today you find solace in knowing motherhood binds us more than separates us. We all come from birth. We all are broken. We are all doing our best. May you find a piece of love to hold today and every day.
Wandering mimsy-like
through vorpal woods
gyre strapped mome-like
upon my thigh—
Gimble finds me.
Draped in white
dandelion fur cloak
brillig bright eyes
slithy black hair—
Gimble mocks me.
Uffishly pouncing forth
callay sword drawn
frumiously sweating brows
lips drawn tight—
Gimble attacks me.
With callooh quickness
sidestepping his blade
I cry out
“nobody outgrabe’s me”—
Gimble circles me.
Eyes locked together
two lost-raths
in the night
frabjous moon laughs—
Gimble sees me.
Beamishly he stares
eyes dripping tears
remembering our love
gyre kisses lost—
Gimble flees me.
Trailing behind him
whiffling white fluff
swirls softly around
my tulgey toes—
Gimble forsakes me.
Again.
Coward.
Note: This poem uses neologisms found in Lewis Carroll’s famous Jabberwocky poem and was started as an assignment for a poetry class I took from M. Todd Gallowglas last weekend. It’s got a bit of a different tone than I usually write and I’d love to know what you think. Thank you!
I am dancing yellow flowers
moss growing on a cracked boulder
dragonfly battles waged through cattail forests
sleeping rocks tucked beneath rotted boards
wide-winged hawks quietly circling prey
I am daring spring sunshine
fields of green miner’s lettuce wet with dew
twisted trees reflected in muddy puddles
colorful floral crowns skipping around a maypole
teeny tiny frogs in a toddler’s hand
I am dandelion fluff wishes
bubbles caught in a spiraling spider web
fat white clouds pressing through a rainbow
afternoons spent reading in a hammock
soft rabbits hiding among wild buttercups
I am lively starry jubilation
moon struck open-armed happiness
deep water thick-boned delight
galaxy swirling sweet poetry madness
freckle-faced daisy ringed freedom
Shoebox Poetry: This is the third poem in my series based on an old box of photos I inherited when my grandmother died in 2004. I love the joy in this photo and I hope my words match its beauty and grace. Happy first week of spring!
You carve our names “E+K”
into the ancient oak behind
your daddy’s church in hopes
I’ll see, but I’ve grown
tired of playing your endless
games. My drawers overflow with
your teeny-tiny top-secret
messages penned on newspaper scraps—
“I miss you,” “meet me
behind the old Bulto Market,”
and “kiss me, dearest Kate,
I’m dying for you.” Just
words. I need more than
blue-eyed winks and brief
hidden embraces. My love needs
sunshine—warm, bright, radiating fire
so vibrant it can’t be
stoppered or hidden. Explosive volcano
love, running thick down our
bodies. Popcorn love, loud hot
buttery passion devoured with both
hands. Instead, you give me
your blurry photograph standing at
301 Caroline Street, our secret
kissing place. You write in
sweeping curvy letters “this is
not very clear, but it’s
still me. Eddie.” Blurry love
is what you offered, thinking
I’d accept, but I deserve
someone who wants our love
to be broadcasted, shouted, screamed
into the streets. Bullhorn loud
love. Free to be me
love. So, I chased you
onto the old bridge, calling
out through hot tears, “choose
all of me or none
of me.” The bright moonlight
stretched my dark shadow so
it covered you entirely as
you walked away without looking
back. My young love never
wavered, but yours wasn’t brave
enough to fight. It’s funny
now, finding your thoughtless dare
scrawled in ink, “see how
long you can keep this.”
I kept it forever, blurry
Eddie. Not for you, though
for me.
I stayed in focus.
Shoebox Poetry: This is the second poem in my series based on an old box of photos I inherited when my grandmother died in 2004. I don’t have any idea who Eddie was, but I wanted to rewrite a possible old love story as a moment of empowerment for my grandmother. She was a fierce woman and I like to think she kept this photograph as a reminder of her strength. If someone out there happens to know Eddie, sorry. This is pure fiction and I’m sure he is/was a lovely man.
Bridgette Tales 