be humble

Lune #7 of 25

be humble, she said.

I will try–

he could not do it.


*A lune (rhymes with moon) is a very short poem. It has only three lines. It is similar to a haiku. A haiku has three lines, and it follows a 5/7/5 syllable pattern. The lune’s syllable pattern is 5/3/5. Since the middle line is limited to three syllables, it is often the shortest line of the three. This makes a lune curve a bit like a crescent moon.

For the next twenty-five days, except Saturdays and Sundays, I will share a lune with each of you. This is Lune #7 of this project.

wanting breakfast for dinner

Lune #6 of 25

Pancakes With Strawberries and Blueberries On Top
Photo by Dymtro via Pexels

breakfast for dinner–
I simply
crave breakfast tonight.


*A lune (rhymes with moon) is a very short poem. It has only three lines. It is similar to a haiku. A haiku has three lines, and it follows a 5/7/5 syllable pattern. The lune’s syllable pattern is 5/3/5. Since the middle line is limited to three syllables, it is often the shortest line of the three. This makes a lune curve a bit like a crescent moon.

For the next twenty-five days, except Saturdays and Sundays, I will share a lune with each of you. This is Lune#6 of this project.

express yourself

Lune #1 of 25

Mouthface
express yourself|Photo by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I’ve bitten my tongue–
can’t express
what I want to say


*A lune (rhymes with moon) is a very short poem. It has only three lines. It is similar to a haiku. A haiku has three lines, and it follows a 5/7/5 syllable pattern. The lune’s syllable pattern is 5/3/5. Since the middle line is limited to three syllables, it is often the shortest line of the three. This makes a lune curve a bit like a crescent moon.

For the next twenty-five days, except Saturdays and Sundays, I will share a lune with each of you. This is Lune#1 of this project. 

the perfect day to be laid out on the grass

loversheart
still|Photo by Tremaine L. Loadholt
look at that little heart
painted carefully on an
inanimate object . . .
I bet it doesn’t know
how to handle all that
blood pumping in one place
begging to get out.

do you think it wants to
trade with us?
does it feel?
will it be loyal?
could it break hearts?

look at it,
isn’t it the perfect day
to be laid out on the grass
waiting for someone to
come along and
rip that pumping muscle
clean from its chest?

maybe it’ll get up
before it’s too late.
it looks smarter
than we could ever be.

the sky holds your beauty in its eyes

morningsky 1
Morning Sky#1: Photo by Tremaine L. Loadholt

I cup the warmth of you

in my hands–
kiss your eyelids
hold you close to my
breastbone, breathe in
shea butter and honey.

All the while, the sky
wants me to share
your goodness,
to give you over to it–
and at that moment,
I am selfish.

I want to mark you with
my lips, turn you over
to the local authorities,
and imprison you for
fatal attraction.

Buried in your eyes
are my thoughts of a
new day. The gift of connection is
skating on your shoulders.
We inhale a purple sunrise
and the sky . . .

It waits patiently, holding
your beauty in its eyes.
I open mine and can

only see you.