Category: NaPoWriMo

I Want to Be THAT Kind of Woman

Photo by Maxim Boldyrev on Pexels.com
I love watching the women with fire in their veins
The girls with Punky Brewster profiles
They enter with energy so big the room feels small
Laughs that ring out above the rest - distinctive and full bellied
They refuse to be shamed by the PTA moms
Not allowing their messy edges to take away from their contributions
They embody the revolutionary girl that Nikita Gill wrote rules for
Standing up for themselves and others
Accepting no excuses for bad behavior
They are often truth tellers slicing through mass delusions
Magic makers manifesting dreams into reality
Only ever competing with themselves
Chin high and eyes sharp
They are goddess and girl
Witch and woman
Scorching or blessing the ground they walk
In equal measure
Giving no fucks and taking no shit
As they say "yes, and" or "hell, no"
Fierce and joyous and unapologetically free

-gws

Slay

These poems are a journey 
That began in the light of hope and love
Then slowly meandered through increasing darkness 
They dare to expose the skeletons and demons 
Barely hidden behind my front door for too long
The narration begins in the middle 
After darkness had well fallen
And documents my struggle to breathe
My desperate journey to find myself again 

And for those who live with horrors who wear human faces
If I found my way free
I know you can too
Let these poems serve as proof 
That though it is not easy
Freedom can be won
You can take your life back 
Write the story exactly as YOU wish it to be

Sometimes the dragon burns down the world 
As long as you’re standing 
No matter how wounded
You can slay that dragon
You ARE the hero of your story
YOU get to say when the story is over
YOU get to decide how the new book starts
YOU get to do whatever the hell YOU want
Take my story and forge it into your sword of courage 
SLAY

-gws

We All Might Just Be Alright

I fucking hate homework 
And projects 
And assemblies
And parent-teacher conferences
It’s a gauntlet of pushing and pulling 
Begging and beguiling 
Praying and pleading 
I have to pretend I know what I’m doing 
Convince teachers I’m a capable parent 
When I feel like the absolute worst 
I’ve used all the gas in my emotional tank
Before my children walk back in the door 
“What’s for dinner, Mom?”
“I ripped my pants, Mom.”
“I have a field trip, Mom.”
“I have a project due on Monday, Mom.”
There are more moments than I am proud of
Where I mourn my party of one days
Then one of my sons says
“I love you, Mama.”
Points to my chest and asks
“Are you ok in there, Mama?”
Takes my phone and tucks me in and says
“You’re sick, Mama.  You need to rest.”
I start feeling like less of a fuck up
Like I might be getting something right
Like we all might just be alright 

-gws

Ode to Audiobooks

In the days of old
Storytellers traveled far and wide 
Plying their trade at hearth and square 
Sharing tales true and mythical 
Of heroes and villains 
Triumph and tragedy 
Honing the sharpness of their wordplay 
Weaving captivating tales for coin
Where are the bards of today 
Spinning tales for the eager 

I host a phantasmagoria of storytellers 
Tucked neatly into my pocket 
Poised to share hours of narration
For an audience of one
A tap a screen whisks me away 
Into a plethora of elaborate worlds
Thousands of hours of storycraft 
Read by hosts of skilled modern bards
Memoirs and poetry
Worlds fictional and factual 
Could the traveling rhapsodist
In their pre-modern world
Dare dream of such wonders
As the miraculous audiobook 

-gws

American Bison

Photo by Gintare K. on Pexels.com
American Bison are commonly known as the American Buffalo
And are the national mammal of the United States
These grand beasts have evolved to adapt to the harsh North American Great Plains winters
They have vast biological adaptations to allow them to thrive in the volatile environment 
They evolved physically optimized to survive
Yet their most fascinating adaptation is behavioral
Unlike nearly every other wild and domestic creature 
Buffalo do not flee from the sweeping brutal storms that cross the landscape
They put down their massive heads and turn into the maelstrom
They meet the fury and ferocity eye to eye
They seem to inherently understand 
The only way out is through
Resisting the sky is futile
The sooner the storm is met
The less time it has to intensify
The sooner they can emerge from its dangers
No wonder indigenous people hold them sacred
To meet the fury of nature unflinchingly
Steadfast and secure in the innate knowing
Passed down through generations
That buffalo are built to endure 
Creating their own harmony with their world
Writing their own survival rules
Wise teachers for us all

-gws