My poem today is supposed to be an elegy, “a poem that mourns or honors someone dead or something gone by”. This was difficult for me as it caused sadness to fill me for a bit. I almost skipped this one, but I decided to write it anyway last minute.

This is dedicated to a mentor who inspired many to follow Christ.

I’m following the challenge here: http://www.napowrimo.net/day-three-3/


You always had
a way of calming even the
loudest doubt
inside of us

With your golden yellow
visor with the black “WC”
in the middle of the front,
you screamed,
“Hawk time!”
It was your chant
of life,
your simple, loving
way that you guided
towards Christ
that made you hard
to let go.

I remember
when I babysat your kids
how I came over early
in the morning
to find you
cuddled up among
the dangling body
of your preteen son.
You were the biggest
teddy bear,
no one else could
compare to your steady grace
and faith.

And one of my greatest memories
with you
will always be
singing “Cotton-Eyed Joe”
at the top of our lungs,
on our youth trip.
The way you sung
a little off-key
made me smile.

When you died
I was supposed to be comforting
your brother,
but I ended up bawling
into his arms,
for the loss of you
was so unexpected
and so hard to grasp.

A part of my childhood
died the day
that I realized I would
never see you again.

Did you really meet
up there in heaven?
Are you with Him now,
where no one needs
the weapons of spiritual warfare?
For there is peace where you are,
life eternal in Him.
You taught us so much about
letting go of the scars,
and working hard
to continue a relationship
with the Father.

“Excuses are the crutches of the uncommitted”
is a phrase I will never forget.
You taught us to never give up
and never to quit.
Your legacy lives on
through the countless youth
that you touched with
God’s love
and unchanging grace.
And one day I hope
to see you again,
after I see the Creator’s face.



Million Dollar Wedding Cake

Today’s poem was supposed to be a recipe. I’m following the challenge here:


I wrote this based on years of cake-baking experience with my husband. He’s made dozens of birthday and wedding cakes that are delicious and beautiful, but people continue to expect something for nothing. 

(We’ve actually made this million dollar cake recipe a few times, and it really does make a good wedding cake.)

So here’s something humorous for those people. 

Million Dollar Wedding Cake

Oh, you’d like a cake for your wedding?
A dreaded, three-tiered,
sugar glass-topped
perfect nightmare.
But for only one-hundred dollars,
I presume.

Well, for that price,
I’ll give you a deal.
I’ll start with one pound of butter, softened,
room temperature, of course,
sprinkle in a bit of pain and time lost.
Three cups of sugar
six large eggs,
and my first ten gray hairs,
ripped from my head.
Next comes four cups of A.P. flour,
that’s all on purpose,
just for you
and one sleepless night,
make that two.
Three-fourths of a cup of milk
with just a smidgen of guilt.

One teaspoon each of
almond and vanilla extracts
and you still expect me
to crack my back
to give you this
million dollar pound cake
for one-hundred dollars flat.

Fishing Alone

Here is my attempt at writing a Kay Ryan-esque poem. I am following the challenge here:


Fishing Alone

And while I ache
to have a trade
it would be
a mistake for me
to go fishing
The way that
mother penguins trust
their lovers
to care for their young
while they themselves
run to the water
to search for
the fish to bring home.
The modern day feminist
would agree with
this possibility
of one-up-ness
for all women.
But I refrain.
I couldn’t stand the pain
of knowing my chick
missed her mother.
And while I want
my lover
to know my child,
I hold full responsibility
in fulfilling the need
that a child has of
needing me.

There were also a couple of quotes from her interview that I loved:

“But of course, poetry has its balms. It makes us less lonely by one. It makes us have more room inside ourselves. But it’s paralyzing to think of usefulness and poetry in the same breath.”

“I think extravagance in your life takes the energy from possible extravagances in your mind.”

Second Grade Graduation

Here is my attempt at writing a haibun. I am following the challenge here:


There were people scattered throughout the musty, carpeted gymnasium, packed shoulder to shoulder, sweat trickling down their foreheads. Each parent beamed with pride as their offspring crossed the stage, took their diploma, and stepped into place with the yellow-clad class. 

One little girl, caught
By the mic wire, fell down on
Her knees, embarrassed.