Author Archives: Natasha Shapiro, ATR-BC, LCAT

Happy 420 if you celebrate. Forgot to write a poem this am. I usually do them after morning pages. Lastly I do the Wordle. I’m addicted to a tile match game and Woodber on my phone. They do help you keep your mind working, “staving” off Alzheimers. It’s weird the word staving- I associate it with Dementia.

Dementia waits in the wings

Floating on silver grey hair

Will it go further

Digging into your scalp and meandering through your white matter, burrowing like the animals that hide underground, creating

A forever winter?

Friday floats into

The clock and dances on me,

So light in the dark sky

Curtains of evening.

All those poems were written on the day except the 2 dad sick days. I just hadn’t transferred them from my notebook.

I didn’t write one this am. I usually do them in my am pages. I wrote pages today but no poem.

So I’ll do a magnet poem now and take a photo:

Well, I ended up changing and expanding it. It’s fun to find words and evoke something.

They never have enough s letters:

It should be:

Along this language

A woman, whispery

Wanders through

Strange empty questions.

She is cracking sentences-

Never writing

Always alone only with time

Curled around her like a soft

Drowsy cat.

It’s supposed to be sad-ish and maybe abstract metaphors about writing, like the woman represents writing for me, how strangely lonely but also impossible so the cat is the comforting part- maybe posting them here. You if you’re out there reading, are my soft drowsy cat keeping me company in my lonely land of writing poems.

And I’ve caught up transcribing 17 of 18 poems!

Yuck

Trump is on trial.

A juror said he says

Ridiculous things. Since

When do we know about

The jurors selected?

It’s Trump. His trial

Goes the Trump way

Even against him.

Not remarkable but I’m keeping up:

I hear garbage cans

Outside my window gathering

The garbage of yesterday.

The empty cans, like our

minds open for new garbage

Of today. Tonight is Tuesday-

Garbage night. As a kid I

Wondered where all the

Corpses went when the

Cemeteries are full.

Death comes to a field

Of sunflowers. Sunny days are

The trickiest ones.

I like that one.🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Also missed- somehow things got ahead of me

Every time I go

To my childhood home uptown

I get a lemon cupcake

Icing too sweet.

I missed those days, in hospital with my dad post surgery then at home w/him, big drama post surgery at midnight. All well but I forgot poems.

4/13 on 4/18

Having ADHD

means that I can’t keep up

And go back in time.

It’s a poem a day;

Do I have enough words in

Me? My word box might

Run out…

I like this one, one of the better…

The day turns over

To sleep on its other side.

It’s a Thursday, yes again.