The Robin

The robin bop
bop, bops along
the stone path,
her beak digging
into the cracks
she passes,
looking for supper-

looking to fill
hungry bellies,
the little ones
in their nest
crying, crying
“Mother, please;
we’re dying.”

The robin bops
along, hurried,
and at wit’s end-
I reckon she regrets
ever lying with a man.

I kid, of course.
I know as well as she:
there’s nothing like
the love of a child-
it’s simply


I’m not participating in NaPoWriMo but I’d like to use the prompts as a kickstart for my Muse. Who knows? Maybe it’ll help get me out of this rut I’ve been in. This is a poem based on the prompt from week one: write a Kay Ryan-esque poem.


A Boy and His Cookie Monster



blue fur
with any number of gross things
and white eyes,
the pupils long since chewed off

it’s a broken thing,
this doll

but loved

with open-mouthed kisses
and tiny fingers sunk deep
he pours into it
his joy
and his tears

the blue fur,
matted and gross,
absorbs it all
absorbs the simple love
of my little boy
and gives it back with a smile