flowers

For All Creatures of Good Heart 25/30 for Chai & Bamboo by Nico Lund


Todays Poetry prompt from NaPoWriMo is a clerihew poem. Although, they are usually only 4 lines, I needed an extra quatrain for the benefit of all sentient beings.

For goodness sakes Madame Woodland Park Zoo,
You've made a gargantuan travesty of the lives of chai and bamboo,
These sentient beings and the other zoo lot,
Aren't just novelties like dodo birds or triceratops. 

It's time to do right Monsiers and Madams,
Letting go of your money, your accreditation and stand.
Send Chai and Bamboo to retire in peace,
And for all creatures of good heart to be released. 


I Am Enough 23/30 by Nico Lund


It's a simple tweak
Gentle touch and
Barely noticeable smile. 

The one just underneath the skin
Like maybe because it's always there,
Always tilted up without effort 
In a thought of kindness 
Or swoosh of sweetness. 

An Illusive opposite of shadow
A sensual passing through. 

What is that rising flutter in my heart?

A infinitesimal shift
With a colossal effect. 
A momentous rejoicing
With the smallest of sighs. 

Enough, enough, enough!

I am enough.

What If? 22/30 by Nico Lund



What if the rain never came?
Drip 
                  drop 
                               dry. 
There'd be nothing to wash 
The tangles from your hair,
Or the soot from your pores. 

What if the sky never filled with clouds?
Drip 
                  drop. 
Each lost droplet a lost idea 
For the clouds are the accumulation 
Of all the ideas and dreams 
Of the people down below. 

What if the thoughts stopped coming?
Drip. 
                                    Drip. 
                                                                     Drip. 
                                                                                                   Drip. 

What if?

All The Things Your Heart Is 16/30 by Nico Lund




Take all the things your heart is
      And all the things your heart isn't, 

Can them 
      Into a jar 
                                  And watch the flickering lights 
                                                                   Blink on and
                                                                                      off like summer 
                                                                                    Fire bugs on a 
                                                                             Dim lit hazy night.

Above stars will play
                                Hide and seek
                                                  With night clouds 
                                                                             And moon-shadows.

When you go to slumber
Your mind will buzz 
With a million thoughts 
Until 
        Sleep 
                 sets 
                         you 

                                 free.

Tomorrow is Tax Day 14/30 by Nico Lund


Each moment is significant. 

For example, this line at the post office. 
Tomorrow is tax day. 

That mom with the two young children. 
What she says to them: wait here. 
How they look at her. 
And they are watching, learning, learning about waiting. 

Children are always learning about waiting. 

The older woman behind me. 
How she chews her fingers and looks around. 
Once she was young and then after that she was somewhere in between 
like me. 

Each line has a memory of another line. 
Whether or not the end of any line gets you what you wanted, 
the wait is often noted, recorded, reviewed. 

Each anticipation of any wait-er has been solidified in the mind; 
calcified blocks of 
personal stories and vignettes. 

How our waiting settles into these clerks, 
perhaps to ground their slowness to slow 
and then seemingly slower.

Did someone press pause on this moment? 
Is it for me to finally notice?
Should I take this time for something significant? 

Conversely, sometimes it seems we believe 
that frantically looking around at anyone 
who will meet our eye will speed up the process. 

We are all waiting for our turn. 
Life is not waiting for us, but oh how we wait for it. 
For it to happen. 
For it to unfold and reveal its mysteries. 

Right now is always fighting our anxiety with 
elongated space between here and there. 

Every line in our life is like time passing. 

How we wait is telling. 
How we wait 
is who we are

In each 
significant moment. 

This One to the Sea 11/30 by Nico Lund


Mother takes the hand of little fingers,
kissing them one by one.
This finger down the mountain,
This finger through the trees,
This finger touch the sky,
This one to the sea.

Mother touches so gently each blade of grassy hair on little heads.
Here sprouts the life,
Here the flowing gold,
Here flowering seeds,
Here the dreaming folds.

Mother walks with care, small steps and slowly.
First steps in the water,
First falling to the ground,
First dance with windy music,
First whispers in the round.

Murky Waters 5/30 by Nico Lund





Murky waters. 

A place to stay away from,
Perhaps a state to beware of.
Or rather something to not get mixed up in. 

It might be too deep,
Too dark,
Unclean or worse. 

Yet, from the womb we emerge
A sooty mess,
All muddy from pure beings blood,

And we arrive full of light,
Having endured the darkest 
Mysteries of life.

Birdy Told Me Nothing 3/30 by Nico Lund


A little birdy told me nothing. 

Nothing about what was to be. 
Not a tweet about love,
Or loss, or glee. 

Of pain, hope and joy, there was silence,
Only a lone crow caw upsetting the balance. 

No flits of light on my shoulder,
Or visions of happy life when I'm older. 

Just here and now, amongst sky and ground. 
Inside just this moments sudden breeze I am found. 

A little birdy said nothing to me,
                                         and as it will be, 
                                                   Only a song for its mate
                            High in the tree. 

Lengths of Time Like an Inch Worm by Nico Lund



Let me know when you take flight.
And how the air is sweeter,
That leaves a bitter trail as you go.
I’ll be watching from below.

How the air breathes sweeter,
Swollen with fertile scents and satiated longings.
Left with the bitter trail, here I stay
Watching from afar in the gap between the twist and fray

Swollen, with fertile scents, to satiate the longings,
The lengths of time like an inch worm.
Watching, from afar, the gap twists the fray
Alone I lay.

In lengths of time
you to will land, tired,
Near to where I lay below,
As you share your sweetened glow.