“Hearthstone”
These days, Hestia calls to me from the hearthstone. Drops of careful jade hang from her all-listening ears, and I am once again struck by the desire to grow things. As of this spring, I am remembering who I was when I wasn't lost-- when I helped my mother plant lavender and rosemary in the garden and the pantry was heavily stocked with turmeric and saffron. Hestia calls to me from the hearthstone to say, "Darling, one of these things is not like the other. To truly flourish, you know you must let go of the thing that holds your heart hostage." So, I do. I let go of any desire to pursue first kisses on late nights in dives. I let go of whatever it was that told me I needed someone else to hold me together. I let go of the pulsing compulsion to ask the question "Hey, do you still love me?" I let go of the teenage fantasies that once kept me. I let go of the years-long obsessions that plagued me. I realize something-- I no longer need the words of another to keep me upright. I no longer long for the approval of those who never stopped to consider what it might look like to leave me stranded in my unease. All I need are the churning rivers, swaying trees, and a wandering breeze. All I need is to see the indigo flowers bloom along the winding walkway up towards the only monstery where I ever felt at peace. And, I do.
“Dream Job”
Dawn eases down my throat like honey, leaving zero trace of the dread of making money. I reach gingerly for my rose-colored glasses and smile to myself as the early morning passes. It's in these weeiest of hours I find solace, for in this dream place, I am jobless. Writing and music sustain me in my simplicity and inside a warm cup of Earl Grey tea, I discover felicity. Forget-me-nots wrapped in a brown-paper package remind me again of the age-old adage. "If you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life." Maybe that's true, but never told without a hint of strife. I find I prefer the quiet of a rural existence, and the boop of a kitten's nose, murmuring love with its insistence.
What is Paint Chip Poetry?
While browsing an art supply store recently, I came across a small game box filled with small paint chips and prompts—simple building blocks with which to create infinite poems and colorful sequences.
I’ve always adored poetry but never felt particularly adept at writing it. This year, I’d like to try and get better. With it being National Poetry Month, I thought it would be a fun writing challenge to use this game box as inspiration to write a brand new poem every day for the entire month of April.
The Rules
I must choose a prompt and four-to-eight paint chips at random. I get a single opportunity to re-draw a sample if I’m not feeling it, but that’s it. Just one. However, I can redraw if I get a repeat.
I must write a poem using the prompt and all of the paint chip words/phrases within the text of the poem. They must be bolded and italicized.
I must post the poem each day to Substack & include a photo of the paint chips in every post.
These are incredible! I love the first one!
Reading this while listening to a special on work and layoffs on NPR 🤔