A Kiss in Your Pocket: Fresh (#AtoZChallenge #LovePoetry)


In your movements, such
grace, like freshly washed bed sheets
fluttering in the spring breeze

2019© Nortina Simmons

Missed in Season

While I await your return,
I crush ripe strawberries
against my face. Red
sweet purée of seeds, nectar
glides down my flushed cheeks,

cools me now that the ice is
melted, air conditioning
unit rattles. At
night, I toss in bed, kick back
thin sheets, fan myself

with open fingers. The heat
makes me tired; sleep evades
when you’re not here. Come
push my idle heart from my
chest, pound it to life with your
frozen knuckles. I

hear the wood pecker knocking
on brick walls, dash for the door
to greet you, and my
ankles break underneath me—
The sun burns my skin.


frapalymo#frapalymo (the German version of NaPoWriMo) is hosted by FrauPaulchen and translated from German into English by Bee over at Just Fooling Around With Bee. Today’s prompt is a tweet from @einsilbig“so much tiredness made my face move img_6174inside”

This poem is also in response to Amina’s tanka, with a little artistic leeway. It’s more of an inverted tanka, as the syllable count is 7-7-5-7-5.


“Spring’s on the horizon,” he whispers through the cool wind.

She shivers and wraps the knitted shawl tighter around her bare arms. “Do you see the light yet?” she asks tight-lipped, watching the children on the see-saw point and stare.

“So eager to get rid of me.” He smirks, and the wrinkles in his cheek disappear into the scenery behind him.

She shrugs and plucks a leaf from the shrub planted next to her. She crumbles it in her fist, opens her hand and lets the crisp brown pieces flutter to the ground like confetti.

“Everything’s dead.” She swings her foot into the dirt, kicking up dust.

“Not this.” He pats the bench on which they sit, and she can see the bright coat of red paint through his pale skin. “Not our love.” He beats his chest, and the hollow sound echoes through the park.

“Excuse me? I aim to feed the ducks.” A elderly woman carrying a loaf of bread sits in his place, and he evaporates around her curled body.

word count: 173


photo-20160208115053605Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a weekly challenge where you write a story in 75-175 using the provided photo prompt as inspiration. Click the froggy icon to read other stories inspired by the photo and add your own.

Mid-May #frapalymo #haiku

Mid-May, calm between
odors of Spring, Summer heat;
breezy paradise.


frapalymoThis poem is written as part of #frapalymo which Bee will be translating into English for us at The Bee Writes…  Today’s prompt is a tweet from @fliegergedanke i walk on into my little paradise every day. airareagarden.” I’m a little drained of creativity (probably just hunger), so I hope you appreciate this short and simple haiku.

I’ll go ahead and make this part of One-Liner Wednesday too, since I haven’t done one in a while. 🙂

A Spring Poem English #frapalymo

I’ve been out sick for the past few days (sinus pressure was so bad, it hurt to sit up and stare at a computer screen). Spring and summer colds are the absolute WORST! Who knows, it might be allergies. Although I seem to clear up whenever I step outside, so maybe it’s the building I work in. Ah, yes. That’s it! I’m allergic to my job!

Anyway, I hope to feel better by diving into this prompt for #frapalymo: “write a spring poem without the word spring in it.” Hopefully it will clear my sinuses, and I’ll be able to smell and hear again. Thanks, Bee, for translating again!


I awake to knocking on my windowsill.
I rise, pull open the blinds.
It is a young robin—
first time mother—
building a nest
between the rotting wood of the
windowsill and the brickface
of the front of my house.
We lock eyes for a moment—
touching our round bellies;
it is time.
The snow has melted away;
patches of freshly grown grass
glisten in the newborn sunlight—
icy water droplets lingering on the blades.
The trees are budding,
stretching their limbs towards the sky,
absorbing every ray of sun
to birth rose pink, alabaster silk,
and saffron tulle flowers.
I want to open my window—
sniff the crisp, pure air
of the  fledgling season,
but I mustn’t disturb a mother
preparing for her young.
She nods. I nod back
and turn to start the construction
of a nest for my own tiny suckling.



No Holds Barred Poetry Writing Challenge: Day 10

Love Haiku #2

Kiss me in the Spring.
Taste the zest of freshly cut
grass, green on my lips.


photo courtesy http://www.tidygrassturf.co.uk/turf.htm
photo courtesy http://www.tidygrassturf.co.uk/turf.htm