It could be your lucky day

Some days I write poetry. This morning I sent into the ether a haiku. I often do.


Stars sequin darkness.
Triggering wishes and dreams.
Softly, dawn gives hope.


Yes, I’m a hopeless romantic, but I can also be a hopelessly pessimistic lonely heart who, thank goodness, has the sense to stay tethered to those around her by an electronic thread. Like this one.  Words sent into the net, hopefully yours, so I cross your mind today.

Love Poem #2011-1

Am I one of the words that catches your eye?
A twinkling star in  your sky?
A bead of sweat I let fly?
A dewy tear from your yawn
because you, too, were up before dawn?

To have a private moment
Or one shared with furry or feathered friends
Who keep your secrets and purr or yelp while you rehearse
What could be your best line today?

The one you’ll say out loud to someone of value?
The line you’ll run by the pets, the birds along the shoreline,
The bees that would rather tickle a flower’s tendrils,
than be bothered with what you perceive will be
Your only chance?

They know so much better than you,
That each morning is reason enough
to open your eyes, your heart,
and let the words try again.

It could be your lucky day,
When you will know just what to say.


And then I publish and ask myself why I am compelled to be so vulnerable? Maybe that’s another day’s poem.

@postaday postaday2011