2 – Not an Olympian

A friend once told me
I am a woman of many hats
And while I don’t like hats
I did once wear the swimming cap
On and off for a few years

I held the table tennis racket
Black always on the outside
Red on the inside
And swung it swiftly
For not nearly long enough

I held all kinds of rackets
And threw around all kinds of balls
But in the end, my best sport is
Lifting the pen to paper


I want to watch it
with you

The flames in the sky
the fiery sun –


The waves crashing
the liquid ice
what’s left of their world


The earth shaking
cracked open
ready to swallow
their world

I want to watch it
with you

Their world ending.
Their world.

It was never ours

Here, back again

I can’t believe it’s time for the 2016 marathon already. And at the same time, I can’t wait for it to start. Last year has provided me with a much needed and much missed sense of deadline urgency, as I was having withdrawal after graduation.

This year I’ve only signed up for half the marathon, because I’m a hardcore basketball fan and intend to watch all of the Olympic games. Must have some sleep between those, too! So don’t be surprised if some of my poems come out basketball-themed. I will do my best to produce more than 12, though, I just didn’t want to sign up for more than I know I can manage.

That being said, last year sparked some great ideas and resulted in some really good poems that I loved (and I’m my own worst critic!). I really wouldn’t mind the marathon happening at least twice a year.


I had a friend
who used to say
that sleep is for the weak.

I guess I’m strong,
as it never comes
easily to me,
even when it should.

It’s a guest that’s
often easy to avoid
and never catches me
off guard.

Today I hope
for dreamless sleep,
for only then
I truly rest.

As dreams are often
quite alive
and full of colour
in my nights.



twitch of a hand
movement forward

tapping fingers on
a wooden surface

turn of the head
to a side
blank stare

turn of the head
towards the screen

twitch of a hand
movement forward

hand lowering
on top of
the mouse

clicking “send”

22 – Love is

Love is
not what you read
in a bubblegum wrapper.

Love is
not what religions
are trying to teach you.

Love is
not necessarily

Love is
not always simple
or easy to maintain.

Love is
a wild being
that doesn’t stay still.

Love is
in a past tense.


There must be something
in the books,
he wrote.
In his books,
there was hope.
Optimism planted
in a dystopia
that grew in a reader’s heart
and showed
how it is really darkest
before dawn.
The world was bankrupted
of ten million fine sentences
the night Ray Bradbury passed on.

Following the poetry prompt,
dedicated to Ray Bradbury.
Two quotes from Fahrenheit 451 used
composing this poem.

#20 – Morning

The sky illuminated.
You, waking.
Blue eyes among the strands
of your long hair,
on the pillow.
You smile.
Almost slow motion.
Like in the movies.
Could it be?


I have some wishes I would like you to grant me:

Not an eternal life,
but a long and not too burdened one.
Full of learning and experience.

Not eternal youth
or beauty, but health and strength
to achieve my goals.

More time.
Just time. To live, to learn.
Grant me time.
The rest is up to me.

Following the Poetry Prompt,
first line is taken from
the last sentence in
Singularity Sky
by Charles Stross


There is no place like home.
There is no place I call home.
There are places I come from,
there are places I’ve been to,
there are places I’m going.
There is a space I’m using,
a place that’s mine for occupancy,
but is it home?
I no longer belong where I came from,
(I think I never did)
I am not yet where am I going,
and I am only temporarily passing
through the space that I’m using.
There might be a place
that is like home, but how
would I know, if I don’t
have a home to compare it to?