NaPoWrMo #6: More than a Three-Hour Tour

 I’ve heard more than one story on NPR about our astronauts who are circling the moon, but the top story seems to be about the broken toilet. It is now fixed, and they gave details on how it works. We are floating pee out into space. Woah!

 

More than a Three-Hour Tour

Artwork by ANDRI TEGAR MAHARDIKA

A toilet is a luxury

Whether you are on land or sea

The thing that is produced

When we eat nuts or soup

Has to go away somehow

Methane has a pow

That has popped our balloon

As it gets hotter

We fly to the moon

And still, we worry

How to rid human slurry

In space, it seems impossible

To let our bodies go

An emergency it was

When the equipment broke ‘cause

No one knew how to fix it

They had no baling wire or spit

The toilet was a high-powered vacuum

As there was no other bathroom

Space Plumer to the rescue!

That crew member they foresee

Would be needed to keep things runnin’

The astronauts are full of glee

Flying past the moon

Relieved not to use their own spoons

But are on a luxury tour

A working toilet with a private door

NaPoWrMo #5: Sister Mary's Morning Headlines

 Happy Easter!

Sister Mary’s Morning Headlines

Women came to the tomb

Searching for what they

Were bound to take care of

The washing, preparing the body

For a long silence

Startled they fell down

In fear, frozen

That Jesus, who they loved was gone twice

An angel told them not to worry

He was not there

Yet, Jesus came to the women

To tell them in person

He was here

He is alive

They were filled with joy twice

Shouting in hearing his voice

Knowing he is living among them

They let it ring,

To all men, let go of fear and suffering,

Hallelujah, he is risen indeed!

NaPoWrMo #4: Between Death and Resurrection

 Nothing too profound, just the day before Easter that brought a few observations to mind about Jesus.

In Between Death and Resurrection

He went to hell for a day

His destiny not completed

His time on Earth was thirty years

Before he started his ministry

Yet he had always been

No more to roam among men

Cold, gone but not finished

Lying in wait for the spirit

To meet the body again,

He walked a strange road

That was one entry

Looking for the reentry

The light at the end of a long tunnel

Would come with the first ray

Of morning light

NaWrPoMo #3: Lady Moon

 April 3, 2026, A short, basic poem tonight as I stare out my window at the moon.

 

Lady Moon

The moon so high

In the sky

I wonder why

They call it a guy.

To me the pale, soft light

Relaxes everything that is tight

In gentle arms I rest

Like a mother’s safe, warm nest

She sings to me her lullaby

“Goodnight, goodnight,” she sighs, “goodnight.”

NaPoWrMo Poem #2: Autós + ism

 April 2, 2026, World Autism Acceptance Day

 

Autós + ism

Self-reflection

Looking into one’s face

To find what is behind the eyes

The lips that move

Saying the same phrase

Till it is deeply internalized

To morph into its own definition

Of self-soothing or a nest

Where one rests

In the familiar

Soft landing

Where it is hard to leave

Because it is so comfortable

The selfdom is its own castle

On a hill

Set against the sky

It stand

While the winds whip

Around it

Sighing that they cannot penetrate

The rock-hewn exteriors

Impressive with their own beauty

But nothing like the treasures within

Where the self- assured conversations

Are rich and flowing

From room to room to room

Dancing in the ball of self-absorption

That is a party of one

Conducting the invisible orchestra

That eternally plays

The selfsame song

NAPOWRMO 2026: Fool's Kiss

 It is that month again, April is National Poetry Month! All month, I give myself 10 minutes each day to spit out a poem. Here is today's offering. 

It just popped into my mind on the way home from school today. All those spring teenage hormones racing around in every hallway!

Fool’s Kiss

Lips, soft, supple meet

Art by Lora Zombie

It is the first time to greet

It is hello down below

Upstairs is dueling

If anything should show

Who they know

Why are they there

If there is something else to share

Just smack-a-doodle-do!

It’s fun until someone sues

The suction smashes all insight

Not a swing and a miss

Tonight’s right is all about the kiss

A poem to help me grieve and let go.

December 11, 2025, for Christine

Singing the Blues for a Friend

I feel like a hollowed-out shell

Grief has scooped out what I was

Who was there is gone

That part of me that lived

The “it” that loved

Died with you

Time does not erase it

Yet it will ease

Into a soft goo

That sloshes around

All year, until the sharpness

Invades to whisper

Then shout about your absence

The softness turns to rock

Weighing me down

Into darkness

This is the normal routine

How I slide year after year

Into a growly space

At no one in particular

Except sideways at you

For leaving too soon

Especially the way you left

I am bereft because it didn’t need to be

In this sea of people, you chose me

To friend and I too chose you

You left without me

I’m still saying, “It can’t be.”

We said we were friends

You chose your end

Instead of weathering this together

I admired your strength

You made me think about others, always

You had your gracious ways

To tend to those who need a place

You gave them a space

For yourself, I knew you felt hollow

You couldn’t swallow what was happening

I said, “Lean on me.”

Maybe not enough

Is it ever that rough?

I thought you were so tough

“She’ll make it,” I said

Instead, you had to go

I didn’t know

I miss you so

And will each year

As the rock grows bigger

I’ll put on a song for you

It has to be some good blues

To wash that space inside

Cleaned out

Filled

Restored

No one should be ignored

I go on to find another friend

To be there with them

Determined for no lonely end