NaPoWriMo Day #5: Rest

(eh, this is a pretty “half-baked” poem; I’m just struggling to find the time right now to write D:) (also I am so sad the formatting for this poem doesn’t work in WordPress nuuuuu)

Soothing silk slides across my face,
smoothing hard-pressed thought lines,
caressing my cheek and sweeping away.
It unties the knots in my muscles,
and straightens my weakened spine.

A soft song weaves itself through,
engulfing deadlines, yelling, strains.
It steadies my heart to an even beat;
a crescendo of notes lifts me from my mess,

Hums gradually wrap around me,
the march of strings builds within,
and my

There is no unworthy desire,
there is no scolding or crying
there is no degradation of the spirit.

There is only a fearless embrace,
when i see with radiant eyes
my life is no longer a calendar
of dates
and assignments
and demands

it is a pallete of fears,
of passion,
and visions.

But when I awake
I am met
with the same


How I yearn to
be at


NaPoWriMo Day #3: No Words

Style: Rhyme
**In loving memory of my friend’s mother, who passed away unexpectedly last week**

Today my pen fails me;
it does not ooze ornate melodies,
or fabricate luscious narratives.
It does not stain paper with color,
or paint images of sun.
or rain.
or anything.

I thought I could write something for everything;
the way pain feels inside me now;
the way confusion sits unsettled in my veins;
the way I know what is happening but I don’t.

Perhaps I will say:
How selfish I feel
to wish someone back,
from her Father’s arms,
for the sake of life’s motions.

No other words accompany me
in this struggle to grasp
what has happened,
no words exist to lessen
the blow we subsist.

Perhaps it is not necessary,
to be able to pen everything.
Some things are
left felt
than read.

NaPoWriMo Day #2: What I Remember

what i remember now was the
suffocating heat of summer.
it stuffed itself into every inch
that stretched between us.
it robbed me of my freedom,
trapped me inside wooden walls
the machined air blasting
at full speed to wash it out.

what i remember next
was the moonlight,
how it graced its shine
against the rich violet
and how it followed me
as i ran through trees,
steady and solid, unlike
my sanity.

when heat dropped to freezing,
and your jacket was warmer
than the large fire we sat
around, and my naivety was
the stimulation to an agonizing
month-long waste of time.

when our words evolved from
sweet pursuance to familiar
conversation, and i sunk
deeper; my hollow desire
to be loved now over-flowing
as we walked upon shifting
sand, hand vainly in hand.

when our words evolved from
familiar conversation to constant
calamities, building up barricades,
loading ammunition and firing off
rounds of accusations, with fear
solidifying inside me, weighing me

when we parted ways,
i bloodied and
you eager to run.

what i remember was the
sharp loneliness,
aching and shaking,
floods of tears.

you held a numb expression
that recalled no memory of
me and you.

and what i remember most is
when we walked away from that summer

I was someone else.

You were the same.

NaPoWriMo 2017 is upon us!

Yikes! I can’t believe how the time flies (I’ll probably continue to repeat this for the rest of eternity. March just started yesterday, I swear!)

NaPoWriMo is already almost here–in less than a week!


National Poetry Writing Month occurs in the month of April every year. The goal is to write one poem a day for all 30 days.

This will be my third year as a participant, but I’m not sure how consistent of a participant I’ll be this year. With three AP exams to study for in April, it’ll be a heck of a lot. But we’ll see. Poetry usually helps calm the nerves. Anyway, allow me to drown you in links before April 1st hits!

NaPo 2015

Read my somewhat cringe-worthy poems of 2015 here.

NaPo 2016

Read my somewhat improved poems of 2016 here.

NaPo Tip Thursdays (2016)

Last year, I wrote a few posts on ways you can prepare for and succeed in NaPo! Read them here, here and here.

Please let me know if you’re participating below in the comment section. I love to keep tabs on my fellow poeting friends to see what they write. Everybody is always so talented. National Poetry Writing Month is a very special event for me. It’s the reason I started this blog! I saw on the site when I first learned of the event that you could submit your own website/blog to count as a ‘participant.’ Well, I wanted to be officially counted as a participant (even though it didn’t matter LOL), so I created this blog!

I am looking forward to the daily prompts the NaPo site provides, and learning new poetry styles and developing my skills. Always love this time of year ❤

Pax in Christo,


NaPoWriMo Day #30: Closing

Hey guys! I can’t believe NaPoWriMo is actually over. Today is the last day, and I am so so happy that I was able to write a poem every single day. Commitment last year was certainly not as strong, so to complete a poem every day for thirty days in a row was wonderful to accomplish. Great job to everyone who participated, regardless of whether they met their goals or not! Some of them I know are: Bernie, Katie, Leah, Madison, and Misty. I enjoyed reading everyone’s poetry this month 🙂 Thank you to Maureen Thorson over at the official NaPoWriMo site who provides us with such fascinating poetry recommendations and challenging prompts. Can’t wait to do it all again next year. Enough of me yapping, on to the poem!

Closing time 

lights are shut off, registers are locked
chairs are turned over and placed on table tops,
money is counted (is it enough to pay the bills?)
heater’s turned off, it’s worth the chills.
Counters are cleaned, windows are sprayed
Goodbyes are said, waves are made,

“see you at 8,” she proceeds to say.

the weight of the day is dissolved
by warm oranges and rich pinks
that infuse the sky.
turning the welcome sign over,
drawing the shades,

and the sounds of work have fallen silent now.

turning the key in the knob,
the click finishes it off.
you unlock your car door,
and the sounds of silverware clinking,
chatter about current events,
the hum of the TV
go off in your head
as you drive home.

And as you turn into your drive away,
you’ll have to pull out of it tomorrow
and undo it all over again.


NaPoWriMo Day #29: Remembering

What do I remember?

I remember when I was three, I saw a spider
the size of a bathtub, literally in the bathtub,
I shrieked and rushed back to bed, my Nana killed
it with a single tissue.
Was that a dream?

I remember Narnia, my love now,
seeing it in theaters at age four when
Hoodwinked was all sold out.
I’m proud to say I saw it then,
even though I wasn’t going to at all.

I remember when I was five or six, unbalanced
on a bike without training wheels, ‘growing up’ but
falling down. Scraping my entire arm against the brick
wall of my house, blood everywhere
and there is still a scar hiding
on my elbow.

I remember when I was 8, on the verge of tears
every day, listening to jeers and taunts
from a blonde haired tormenter. Yelling at her
to leave me alone, the fears rattling inside me.
The PE teacher told me to ignore her,
that she’d stop.
She didn’t.

I remember when I was 10, and I learned my bullies
were bullied.
I had felt so confident when designing the meeting
with my guidance counselor and her,
through​ completely terrified,
my heart ready to rip through​ my chest, only
to sink back down again.
For liking me, this girl would become friendless too.
I didn’t understand, I didn’t believe it.
What did I do wrong?

I remember swallowing myself in books,
no age limit here, illustrating dreams,
placing myself in them. Reading, reading,
reading until I was writing, writing,
writing. My pen the mighty sword,
battling evil that choked my throat.
I’ve stopped that.

I remember being so lonely,
so confused, trying too hard
to not be lonely,
the aching, the jarring reality,
I didn’t belong?
I remember eating pretzel goldfish when I was young,
watching Disney’s Tarzan on DVD,
the sliding glass door a looking glass
to the sparkling blue waters beside
the house.

I remember watching Cars in theaters
and falling in love with country songs
and NASCAR, pining to rewatch it,
to find it a present for my 7th birthday.

Escapes from reality.

Why do I remember so little?
Why do I remember what I remember?

To reach inside of me, fumbling through
ripped envelopes and liquid stained
letters smudged on the surface,
burned at the edges, trashed in the corner
besides those framed in elegant glass
with ribbons and golden medals.

It’s a curious thing,
we often remember
some things
because they built us,
and forget others
even though they built us too.

NaPoWrimo Day #27: AAWC Challenge 4 Bright Long Dreams

Today’s NaPo challenge is to write stanzas using very long lines. This is also my entry for Misty’s AAWC challenge (yes I’ve been spelling it wrong this whole time LOL. Go team eagle!)
**Listen to “White Winter Hymnal” by Fleet Foxes when you read this, this was the song that inspired the nature of the poem! The lyrics are kind of dark, but the guitar and beat are kind of a cool background to this haha!

Wistfully filled with desires not yet grasped by my shaking fingers,
there is a forest of century-old trees, with white-washed trunks
and thin branches towering to the sky, cracking the intense blue
that consumes my mind.

My eyes are the reflection of clouds and my heart
is the pounding of a canary’s song, the rush of an eagle’s flight, and my feet are rooted deep beneath the soil, and my arms are outstretched.

the trees become toothpicks with bushels of leafy hair,
the vast ocean of greens but a patch under my sightline,
i am growing higher and longer, leaner and stronger, wooded bones my structure.

I hear a drum beat far off, and i walk toward it. Sing me a song, it shouts
and I open my mouth, and a flock of birds emerge from it with a bouquet of
notes. Chorus after chorus the earth is wrapped in melodies, brightly
colored stars poke through a velvet blanket and the song is complete.

Spinning in a hundred different directions I am going, gaining speed
and momentum to go airborne. Fingers grab the sky and tightly
wrap it like a ribbon in my auburn locks. I run and it runs with me,
undraping to reveal a robin egg’s afternoon.
“Never leave,” I whisper, “Never go,” I say, “Never die,” I shout.

But suddenly spiderwebs etch through its glassy surface, and everything leaves, everything goes, everything dies. shattered crystals spike through the ground around me,
the earth crumbles like sand underneath me, the trees disintegrate and the sky unfolds through my hair. Everything ends, and the dull greyed-out reality begins again.

I am awake.