From my fingers a rainbow rises,

pages in bright hues emerging

from the strength of my hand and

the black ink of my pen.

Haiku

unfamiliar song 
overheard in maple tree 
strange bird summons spring



Senryu

anticipation
two steps forward, one step back
clouds form, but no rain


path narrows ahead
obstacle or adventure
only you can say


anger-tinged panic
scribbled papers everywhere
keys misplaced again


proof of life required
poetry beside the point
breathe in, now exhale


Barbara Crary, 3/29/24

Reflection

I peer into a fun-house mirror, clouded
with emotion, as I reflect

on chapped lips, straying eyebrows,
dowager’s hump.
.
The doppelgänger there, the me-not-me,
a face I know, but cannot place, so

like that

pretty girl in faded Kodachrome
who never recognized her own worth.

Upon reflection, I am never present 
in anything I think I see.


Barbara Crary 2/22/24 

After a long period in which I created very little, I have started writing a poem, or something poetic, every day since January 18 as part of the Stafford Challenge to write daily for a full (leap) year. To that end, I’m reactivating this old site, and we’ll see what happens going forward. I don’t intend to post every day, except during NaPoWriMo in April, but that will be a good deal more activity than this site has seen in months. Onward!

I am hoping to use this site for NaPoWriMo in April, but I haven’t posted in so long that I fear I’ve forgotten everything I ever knew, which, now that I think about it, wasn’t much at all. If this works, I plan to re-introduce myself and let my audience know what I’ve been up to. It’s been a minute.

Every day, a to-do list, 
Every day, the same.

-- oh, maybe a doctor visit,
lunch with a friend, easy
to cross off once complete --

Every day, items complete.
even those added in order to
memorialize their completion.

And - every day - there is a line
that says "Write poem" which
she thinks might need to be
written in flashing neon to

wake. her. up. But

on his day, without forethought
the pen said this: "Writing Session."
and that, gentle reader, seemed
to make a difference. 

Today.

Thanks to Miz Quickly for a wonderful month of November prompts! I look forward to seeing the bunny again soon.

A life, a jigsaw in midair
one piece missing from the whole

the puzzle incomplete until
the space becomes the piece.


There's more to this somewhere but it's missing today unless, of course, it's not. Thanks to Miz Quickly for including "jigsaw" in her word list today, 11/25/22.

Keeping a moment alive --
an oxymoron, not the 
"alive" part, but the "keeping."

It can't be held, or set aside
in a cage or gilded lockbox.
A moment is in movement, gone
before you extend your reach.

Now, a memory is (perhaps)
another thing, but ask me
about it again         tomorrow.


This draft is in response to a prompt from Miz Quickly on Thanksgiving Day, 2022. Happy memory-making!

When I finally have time,
I will take the time 
to do whatever
      it is 
                     that I really want. 

I will make time 
                         to become my "best self,"
                         doing things I never had time for when I couldn't find
the currency to buy the time
I needed.

Just in time, I hear myself say,

"I'm here, right here, right now,"

                                                          and then I see my time is
                                                                                                                                     running out.

All that buying and spending and taking
and making, and still there's no time left.


I'm fascinated by all the verbs we use to express our relationship with time, none of which really make much sense given its abstract nature. Why Miz Q's 11/23/22 prompt brought me here is anyone's guess.

Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me. Remember,
in the craziness of This American Life,
to be grateful for the pounding of steps
on the treadmill, barely heard 
beneath the anthems of Taylor Swift, 
or the podcasts you savor here.

Be grateful, too, for earphones when
earbuds just don't fit. Listen, as
your aging body says, "Thank you,"
even now when every breath
is a gift from the unseen forces
keeping a moment alive.


This draft is a reminder to tap into gratitude, not. just this week but every week. Thanks to Miz Quickly for this 11/22/22 prompt.