Alright, the first four days:
Day 1: Haiku
Man with his songbird
Sitting in a peaceful park
No headphones needed.
Day 2: So Much Free Time
Not bored. More…unmotivated.
Too much free time.
So much, in fact, I find myself painting both sets of nails
in colors fit for the spring season.
Now my mint green nails click trendy on the keys,
scribble fashionably with the pen.
My hot pink toes do nothing –
save keep me from falling over every day.
You’ve earned a little beauty, digits.
It’s my mental space which needs a makeover.
Day 3: What I imagine went through the minds of boys who messed with my bra in the washing machine
We saw it!
It was pink! It was leopard!
We saw it – with it’s clasps and straps.
And you know what goes into those pink, leopard cradles?
Yeah, and we saw it!
Western breasts in a Western bra.
No, our Moms don’t wear them (gross).
Moms don’t have breasts, but we know who does!
We saw it, and of course she can’t know!
Sure, she gave us a look when she came in –
A hard, knowing look, and we couldn’t look back,
And maybe we tripped over ourselves a couple of times…
But she can’t know.
She can’t know because we put it back.
Set it right on top of the other clean unmentionables.
Day 4: Children draw their feelings, Teenagers write them, Adults forget them
I feel, but now it’s tempered steel.
It’s cold and firm from what I’ve learned
Hard and strong to last as long
As a battered body can.
Yet somewhere in my soul, there’s coal
and heat, and striking hammers sweet
Can’t make mettle if I settle –
Thus it is with man
Man, writing poetry is hard!