Lay your eggs, Nature says. Lay your eggs, Biology says. Lay your eggs, Fate says. You’re the youngest you'll ever be again And that's not long at all. Not anymore. Caterpillars can't see the horizon But you're almost at the finish line. With only days to fly, Your flaps are numbered. Wings irrelevant after a…
Activity here has died down a bit on my part due to all of my attention being diverted to BlueSky, the new Twitter/X alternative. It really is as nice as they say (at least for now) and I'm able to market my work with a wider reach. I've posted a few poems there that I…
Most people can't see they're praying to Apollo by another name. Gee, sus: quite suspicious indeed, and the sun answers every time with articulate manipulation, spewing lies with lyres. When the nameless multitude of unwilling women turns the other cheek to leave him behind, he seizes their hair as twigs to break and wedge deep…
By day, they all say What nice skin! not a Beauty, just fair, smooth Snow White night wolf; moon-slivers glint off algal blooms coating coarse hairs. Photo by patrice schoefolt on Pexels.com
Mama Bear asks how we can know childfree is the way to be for ourselves without experiencing what would be our children, but it's not bleu cheese, Mrs. Bear. I can't gag and tell the waiter to take it back. The waiter would just laugh and say "you made your choice, now choke and keep…
You say my eggs are fried? That's exactly how my husband likes them on the kitchen counter before work: slippery, licked, dead and gone. Photo by Megha Mangal on Pexels.com
If me branding me keeps you from branding me ("damage" may flee your lips but never hands; you'll never come close), I'd say my body art has served the world: my fulfilled aesthetic dream facing down an army of red flags for other women to heed. Photo by Athena on Pexels.com
Daily writing promptWhat is one question you hate to be asked? Explain.View all responses Do you have kids? When are you having kids? Why don't you want kids? I was a girl with a list long before Tiktok's the girl with the list. I just never had the audacity to post it online or the…
Oysters are hard to crack, but once open, a pearl is free to roll where she may. In theory. Musty hands reach in the clear water and pick her up, rub her down, put her in their mouths to create some faux clean that fishes cannot comprehend. They take knives to her rounded bits and…
Dispersing in leylines to fly free, she spins in tendrils truly at one with Gaia, finally away from Guy who ripped out her veins to float as veil, an obscuring halo: a sacrifice she never proposed. Silver winner of this contest: https://allpoetry.com/contest/2830726-National-Poetry-Month-April-3rd-noguestFollow the link for the original picture prompt. I dare not post it here…
National Poetry Writing Month
Keeping the world immersed in stanza.
About fantastical places and other stuff
"The silence of the night awakens my soul"
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Saralyn Caine Poetry 