sea change – National Poetry Month – April 21st

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 21/30 for April 21st.


(Photo by Camilla – 2024)

sea change

To quote Stevie Nicks,
“The rooms are all on fire
Every time that you walk in the room
Well, there is magic all around you”

She’s on Fire means
she has shed the layers of herself she wore
for everyone else’s comfort.
The layers she wore to people-please
For fear that she would be rejected
That she would be rejected
Would be rejected
Rejected

She’s on fire means
She confidently asks for what she needs
She walks into spaces
With an air that she is supposed to be there
That she belongs there
She allows all of her self to enter
No longer afraid to take up space

She’s on fire means
That she fully steps into vulnerability
Unafraid to let the sensitive underbelly
Of vulnerability be exposed
For she knows that being vulnerable
allows others to be vulnerable
Letting others know they are not alone
This sharing creates waves of healing
that permeate the air
Inspiring all who are open to receiving

She’s on fire means
She knows when it’s worth the effort to
Engage in disagreements
She knows when being kind is the way
She knows that there are times when
Not being kind is the way
She no longer argues with those who
Are committed to misunderstanding her
She no longer tries to convince
Someone of her beauty, her worth

She’s on fire means
She has mastered the skill
Of knowing when to stay
And when to walk away
She walks away from toxic, one-sided, dead-end,
low vibrational relationships and friendships
She knows when to say, “I’m done”
She actively works on detoxing the part of her
That resonates with toxic people

She’s on fire means
She has mastered the skill
Of setting boundaries
Of knowing when those
Boundaries are not being respected
She knows when to leave
Burning down the damn bridge on her way out

She’s on fire means
She shares secrets with her skin and bones
With her blood and her heartbeat
Together they know
The older she gets
The quicker time moves
They know the finish line of life moves ever closer
She has decided not to waste
Any more time stopping herself from
Being moved by art, nature, music, poetry, words
Whatever it is
She will permit herself to feel it
She will allow it to express outwardly
She will no longer hold this inside of herself
No longer hold this inside of herself
Inside of herself
Herself

She’s on fire means
She will absolutely not be acting her age
Because what the hell does that even mean?
She will tell other women
How absolutely beautiful they are
How absolutely fucking amazing they are
How absolutely on fire they are
She will never use other women for kindling
In burning down what needs to be burned down

She’s on fire means
She allows herself to fully embrace her style
She will not be a paraphrase
In someone’s life
For she is the whole-ass story
She knows that there is magic
In showing others her true self

She’s on Fire means
She has been to hell and back
Where she collected the ashes of past struggles, past hurt and trauma
To use as confetti whenever she celebrates
And she brought back fire-tinged glitter
To sprinkle on her sisters when they need fire
she has stepped into her true, fluid chameleon self
she has released worry about what others think
Released
worry
About
What
Others
Think
For this is true freedom.
This is true freedom
True freedom
Freedom

And it is fucking glorious.

Camilla Downs, 2024

*Prompt: What does “She’s on Fire” mean to you?

Aperture of Ardor – National Poetry Month – April 20th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 20/30 for April 20th. (This is one I plan to re-visit to play around with the fonts, spacing, and structure.)


(Camilla’s eyes – 2024)

Aperture of Ardor

Anterior chamber
The front section of the eye’s interior
aqueous humor flows in and out,
providing nourishment to the eye.

It has been said
The eyes are the window to the soul

My eyes are for crying
My eyes are for laughing
My eyes are for smiling

Aqueous humor
The clear watery fluid
in the front of the eyeball.

It has been said
You are the apple of my eye

My eyes are for listening
My eyes are for reading
My eyes are for looking in the mirror

Caruncle.
A small, red portion of the corner of the eye
contains modified sebaceous and sweat glands.

It has been said
Have an eye for

My eyes are for listening
My eyes are for reading
My eyes are for looking in the mirror

Cornea.
Clear, dome-shaped surface
covers the front of the eye.

It has been said
A sight for sore eyes

My eyes are for brushing my teeth
My eyes are for walking
My eyes are for driving

Iris.
The colored part of the eye.
Partly responsible for regulating the amount of light
permitted to enter the eye.

It has been said
An eye for an eye

My eyes are for making eye contact
My eyes are for flirting
My eyes are for telling someone I care about them

Crystalline Lens.
Transparent structure inside the eye
focuses light rays onto the retina.

It has been said
Turn a blind eye

My eyes are for watching movies
My eyes are for working out
My eyes are for absorbing beauty

Pupil.
Opening in the middle of the iris
through which light passes to the back of the eye.

It has been said
I spy with my eye

My eyes are for observing
My eyes are for choosing music
My eyes are for concentrating

Retina.
Light-sensitive nerve layer
lines the inside of the back of the eye.
senses light
creates impulses that are sent through the optic nerve
to the brain.

It has been said
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

My eyes are for seeing
Sunsets
Beaches
Oceans
Clouds
Colors
Birds
Cats
Trees
Flowers
Butterflies
The sky
The stars
The moon
The time

Suspensory ligament of lens.
Series of fibers
connects the ciliary body of the eye with the lens,
holding it in place.

It has been said
Cry your eyes out

My eyes are for shopping
My eyes are for seeing into the soul of another
My eyes are for another seeing into my soul

Vitreous body.
clear, jelly-like substance
fills the back part of the eye.

It has been said
In the blink of an eye

My eyes range from light to dark brown
With a clearly defined black limbal ring
My eyes are for communicating
My eyes are poetry

Camilla Downs, 2024

**I mixed two prompts together. Prompt: Write a poem with lots of eyes, and this one, write about a part of the body. Any one! Explore all the things about it which you take for granted and the ways in which it brings you joy.**

Eye facts from: Hopkins Medicine

https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/anatomy-of-the-eye

 

Seven Seven Five – National Poetry Month – April 19th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 19/30 for April 19th.

775

The first time I visited
You captured my heart and soul
I have never left

Camilla Downs, 2024

Prompt: Area code haiku

Jitney Jungle – National Poetry Month – April 18th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 18/30 for April 18th.

Jitney Jungle

It was my first job
After school

A cashier at the Jungle
Jitney Jungle #19
On McDowell Road
Jackson, Mississippi

— M I crooked letter crooked letter I crooked letter crooked letter I humpback humpback I —

My friend Karen and I
Gave it a theme song

— Welcome to the jungle, we got fun and games – Guns N’ Roses —

Customer service was important
Thorough training received —
How to properly bag Make a square inside the bag,
heavy
items on bottom,
light
on top

Best way to great customers
“How are you today?
Did you find everything you needed?”
Being fast at ringing the groceries — encouraged

Excelling at all of the above
Was rewarded
You better believe I received
One of these awards

Regular customers
I knew their name
They knew my name
We knew a bit about each other
These customers waited in my line
Even at times when my lane was longer
Offered to go to another lane
They respond,
“No thanks.”
They want to stay in my lane

Promoted to bookkeeper
Managed the front end
Rented movies
Approved checks
Maintained the returned checks binder

— bounced —

In charge of breaks for cashiers and baggers
Open an extra check stand when needed

Moving the customers through the check-out lanes
Quickly was crucial
Money to cashiers when needed

— Rolls of quarters, dimes, nickels, pennies
Stacks of 1’s, 5’s, 10’s, 20’s —

Balanced tills at the end of the night
Ready deposits for the armored truck

Make the

“store is closing in 10 minutes”

announcement

Locked the safe
Locked the doors

Some of us became good friends
Some of us were like family

My friend Karen’s house was nearby
The house was never locked
I could stop by anytime
Whether anyone was home or not
Have a nap
Borrow some of Karen’s clothes
Grab a bite to eat

Get off work on a Friday or Saturday night
Start the car

{I had 3 different cars during my four years at the Jungle —
a green convertible fiat
A 1980 dark blue firebird
A 1988 red chevrolet beretta}

Crank the music
Roll down the windows

— before electric —

Put the top down
Roll onto McDowell Road
Time for some cruising
That was THE THING to do

Drive from one end of McDowell Road to the other
Music blaring
See people you know — honk and wave
Turn around in the Sonic parking lot at one end of McDowell Road
Turn around in the bowling alley parking lot at the other end

The time when I made the decision
To leave Mississippi behind
Watch her disappear in my rearview mirror

I headed West,
then north
Landing in Seattle, Washington

— Rains a lot, very green, lots of trees, rains a lot —

My co-workers at The Jungle
Got me a cake
We said our goodbyes
Some tears were shed
Many hugs were shared
A load of photos were taken

I have the photos
They’re in my garage
I have the customer service award pin
It’s in a wooden chest
In my closet

— My Aunt Mary gave me the wooden chest. She gave all her nieces one —

I have my red vest
It’s in a box
In my garage

Memories I cherish
Jitney Jungle #19
McDowell Road
Jackson, Mississippi

Welcome to the Jungle

Camilla Downs, 2024

Prompt: Write a poem set in or about a location most posts don’t devote much attention to. Write a poem about or located in a grocery store.

Love Me Well or Leave Me Alone – National Poetry Month – April 17th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 17/30 for April 17th.

Prompt: Meme poetry = Found poetry. I created this prompt, sparked by an idea from the poetry workshop I attended this past Sunday. I’ve grabbed sections of the memes I’ve saved, smooshing them into a poem along with some of my own words. I have so many, there will be two poems with this method. This was fun!

Love Me Well or Leave Me Alone

I be in my own lil world
You need a wrist band to get in here

You don’t have to be crazy to be my friend
I’ll train you

I speak in movie quotes
Song lyrics
And sarcasm

I gave myself permission last week
to never make sense again

I laugh at inappropriate times
I cry when I feel like crying
I usually say whatever comes to mind

I’ve dug deep
Asking myself why I am the way I am
Why I do the things I do
It has been, still is,
A ton of work
But it’s helping me thrive

Being neurospciy
Is a wild-ass ride
I’ve decided to embrace it
Have fun with it
And enjoy the ride

I have a limited amount of time
Left on this planet,
I’m not gonna spend it being
A watered down version of myself
Just so people can like me

For those who have contempt
I turn the volume up even louder

I recover out loud
To give voice to all who
Still suffer in silence

I can be in the house an entire weekend
Without wanting to go out
But I love going out to socialize

I can be a social person
But don’t always like to deal with people in groups

Noise easily distracts me,
But I am one loud woman

Why do I attract people with
The emotional intelligence and maturity
Of a coffee table?
Or those who seem to think
Manipulation and lying are some sort of art forms
To be mastered?

“We knew each other in a past life”
Isn’t cute to me anymore
I’m remembering why I stopped
Fucking around with you in 1911

I play with the fire of my own truth
I will burn for the things I love

Those tattoos will be on you forever
I hope so cause this shit hurt
And it’s expensive

Nothing refreshes my memory
Of what I need at the grocery store
Like coming home from the grocery store

My personality mix —
A needy 5-year-old who can’t control their emotions
A teenage rebel making poor life decisions
And an 90-year-old who’s tired and needs to sit and do nothing

I’m at the stage where I stay out of arguments
Even if you say 4+4 = 10,
You’re right
Have fun with that

Sorry I didn’t text you back for a month
Darkness overtook me
I strayed out of thought and time
Stars wheeled overhead
We had an eclipse
Every day was as long as the life age of earth
But I’m good
How are you?

Might fuck around,
Do silly, frivolous things
That make me happy
And become the version of myself
I’ve dreamed about

I am teaching myself to be as a child
Looking another in the eye
Declaring, “this game is no longer fun”
And so I stop playing it
Without guilt
And walk away

I will not be explaining myself

Due to not wanting to,
I will not be.

Camilla Downs, 2024

Have You Ever Discovered Treasure – National Poetry Month – April 16th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Halfway there! Today’s poem: 16/30 for April 16th.

Have You Ever Discovered Treasure?

The year was 2014
I was struggling
I was sad
I felt stuck, felt trapped
I felt without direction
I didn’t know how to support myself, my two kids
I desperately needed and sought answers

During this time
I had a profound dream

My two deceased grandmothers had a starring role in this dream
Estelle Eady Mann
Elnor Key Downs

In my dream
They lived together
I was extremely happy to see them
We sat enjoying each other’s company
I caught them up with my life

We began to go from room to room
Looking for treasures
Treasures that belonged to each one of them
Treasures that had been lost

There seemed an urgency to our searching
Something was about to happen
Unsuccessfully we searched the house
Attempting to locate these treasures
It felt like we searched for hours

When nearly all hope was lost
I discovered a hidden room in the house
Galvanized and relieved
The three of us entered the hidden room
Surrounding us were the lost treasures

My grandmothers knowingly stood before me
Sharing a message

This room represents you, Camilla
You are searching outside of yourself
For answers
for direction
For knowing your why
We want you to know
You are the treasure
Everything you need is within you

In that moment I woke from the dream
I was visibly touched by this profound dream
By my grandmothers visiting me
I immediately got out of bed
To capture this dream in my journal
I did not want to forget any details

It was an intense dream
Helping me to relax into the present moment
Helping me to release a shit load of worrying
It helped me to keep going
Helped me to keep going
Keep going

This dream was vivid
It seemed real
I had never had a dream like this
I have not had a dream like this since

My two amazing, strong, tenacious
Grandmothers rescued me that night
They entered my dreams
Took me by the hand
Guiding me to the treasure for which I had been searching

Estelle Eady Mann
Elnor Key Downs

Thank you for your help during that time
Thank you for continuing to enter my thoughts when I need it most.
Thank you
Thank you

Camilla Downs, 2024

**Prompt: RECALL ONE OF THE STRANGEST DREAMS YOU’VE EVER HAD AND WRITE ABOUT HOW IT MADE YOU FEEL OR WRITE IT OUT IN AS MUCH DETAIL AS YOU CAN REMEMBER.

The Heart of It – National Poetry Month – April 15th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 15/30 – April 15th.


(South Lake Tahoe, August 2023, Taken by me)

The Heart of It

When I think of summer
I think of —

Dandelions dotting the landscape
Tall sunflowers
With their head facing the sun

Japanese honeysuckle vines
With their tiny bubble of hidden nectar

Roasted sweet corn
Slathered in butter
Juicy sweet pineapple

Lemons
And fresh squeezed lemonade
Bananas
And homemade banana pudding

Happy vibes
Blooming with every tulip,
every daffodil

Popsicles that instantly melt
Dripping down the hand

The bright sun
Drenching everything in warmth

Swimming
Watermelons
Laughter

Iridescent bubbles
French vanilla Ice cream
Tropical flavored snoballs

Barefoot
Joyful
Energetic

Golden sand
Beach waves
Lake Tahoe

Seagulls
Swallowtail butterflies
Cricket chirps

When I think of summer —

I think of creativity blooming

Camilla Downs, 2024

**I mixed two prompts. Monday Night Poetry prompt of “Bloom” and this one: Prompt – A poem that collects images the way a magpie collects shiny things in its nest. Collect images of yellow things, arranged to create a meaningful poem.

Monostich Style – National Poetry Month – April 14th Bonus Poetry

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 14/30 – April 14th – Bonus. I’ve never tried monostich poems. Thought I’d give it a shot.

**This was a bonus prompt from April 11th. Prompt for the day honors the “ones” in the number 11. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write either a monostich, which is a one-line poem, or a poem made up of one-liner style jokes/sentiments. From https://www.napowrimo.net/

The Beginning of the End – National Poetry Month – April 14th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 14/30 – April 14th.

The Beginning of the End

There’s a barely visible view
The murky fog nearly obscures everything
There’s a deep window ledge with pottery pieces
Made by my daughter in her preschool class
Her name and the date are written on the back
With a blue sharpie marker
The translucent strawberry curtains are draped to the side

The mood, this setting
Transported me back in time
An eventful night in Spring 2006

I couldn’t sleep
My stomach was bothering me
It felt like something was wrong
The air, the energy was unsettled
The weird feeling lodged in my gut

My stomach gurgling with discomfort
I made my way to the bathroom
As I sat on the toilet
I couldn’t shake this unsettled feeling

That’s when I saw his phone on the edge of the counter
I debated with myself whether or not to pick it up
Whether or not to infringe upon another person’s privacy
The weird feeling that something was not right
Overtook the debate happening in my mind

I opened to the call history
My gut discomfort suddenly worsened

I found hours long calls on his phone,
Dozens per day
Calls with another woman
I began to panic, to sob, my body became numb

I wondered what I had done wrong
What I had done wrong
Had done wrong
Wrong

I was awake the rest of the night
Analyzing the previous days and months

The next morning I asked him about her
He blew me off, telling me I was being paranoid
I was being a crazy woman
Being a crazy woman
Crazy woman

I thought
I
HAD
DONE
SOMETHING
WRONG

That whatever was happening
It was my fault
What had I done wrong
To make this happen?

That was the beginning
Of
The End.

This scene initiated the months of turmoil
The emotional hell
Of trying to figure out why another person
Has done what they did
Has said what they said
Is the way they are

That was the beginning of understanding
I could not let society
The leanings of the community I had aligned with
To dictate what was right or wrong for me

That was the beginning of showing myself grace
The beginnings of understanding
That I had done nothing wrong

That was the beginning
Of the fog lifting
Of clarity
Of knowing

There’s an expansive view
The sun shines with its rays reaching far into the room
Brightening the walls, the corners
Catching and reflecting through the crystals suspended from the top of the window,
Decorating the walls, the ceiling, the floor with rainbow prisms
I can see the Virginia Foothills and Mt Rose
There’s a deep ledge with a cat perch attached to it
There are no curtains

I can see clearly now

Camilla Downs, 2024

**I mixed two ideas. This one – Prompt: Write a poem using this photo as a jumping off point. The other idea from the poetry workshop attending this afternoon. I’ve attached the original prompt photo (second) and one of my own window photos.

Fire Dancing – National Poetry Month – April 13th

April is National Poetry Month. I’m going to attempt to write one poem every day this month. Today’s poem: 13/30 – April 13th.

Fire Dancing

We’re in the middle of nowhere,
Or so it seems

Potholes State Park – Moses Lake, Washington
Camping on our own mini island of sand

The sky,
e x p a n s i v e
It seems as if there are an infinity of stars
Blanketing the sky

My amazing step-dad, Frank, worked for Duroboat
Receiving one as a bonus
We had scores of adventures in that sweet lil boat

It took several trips in Frank’s
Bright yellow Duroboat
Transporting us and supplies
From the parking lot
To our island

One trip for a person or two
With the first load of supplies
Another trip or two for more supplies
More people

First order of business
Toilet paper roll slid onto a branch
With a hole dug for the call of nature

Gusts of wind so powerful,
At times flattening the tents
Dare not open your mouth facing the wind
Unless you enjoy a mouth packed with sand

Campfire going
Music on
Talking
Laughing
Bloody Marys tipped back
Talking
Laughing
Dinner cooked and eaten
S’mores next
Talking
Laughing
Drenched in wine
Dancing around the campfire
Nearly falling into the fire

The Duroboat running out of gas
On the way from our mini island
Back to the parking lot
Stranded

My handsome first love — Jim
Jumping in the frigid water,
Attempting to tread water plus tow the boat
Going nowhere fast

More laughing
Laughing
Laughing

Along comes a sightseeing ferry
Passengers pointing, having a good ole laugh
At our silly butts in that lil Duroboat
They toss a line to us
Give us a tow
They take pictures of us
We take pictures of them
A mutual good time
More laughter

The smell of campfire
Reminds me of celebrations
Enjoying life with my mom and Frank
My step-sister, Heather
Step-brother, Tony
My brother, Robert
Laughter
Good times
Coming together
Letting loose
Crazy times

Gratitude that we got to experience
These times with each other

The smell of a campfire
Reminds me of that time I nearly
Danced into the fire
Camilla Downs, 2024

(Photo of me and my step-dad, Frank. Not camping but around the same time, early 90’s.)

**Prompt: Write a poem that features a memory of a smell.