October Poetry Project
2 of 31
April 01, 2026
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
First words for a fool
following her shadow home
like a listless dog
lazily chasing his tail
finally feeling the bite
NaPoWriMo 2026
Tanka tinkering
Wednesday, April 1, 2026
April 01, 2026
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
Wandering
Under glowing gibbous
of a pink full moon
interlaced with celebratory threads
of Prophet and prankster
the MuZe
begins the Golden Spiral
weaving weft
- an idyllic mind-space retreat
- a trifecta of words
- 100 days of making
into
simultaneous contrast
a tapestry φf perception
Today marks the beginning of the National Poetry Month and as part of this I will be writing a poem a day for the next 30 days.
Here will be my words - unedited, sometimes rushed, often forced and just maybe, if the muse is kind, beautiful....
Join me on my poetic exploration of all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities:
nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect
(Feedback is welcome, kindness is appreciated)
Be sure to follow my fellow traveller, The Lackadaisical Poet, wherever she goes.
It is the journey that is everything.
Monday, February 23, 2026
February 23, 2026
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
This year I am dedicating my #100dayProject to my beloved mother, June, who passed away July 2025. I will be creating art, capturing photographs, and writing poetry & prose to honor her memory.
I invite you to share my journey - one where I will keep company with my grief, walk steadily with memories and find the path forward, in love.
Art will be posted at Imperfect Art and on Instagram at zenofjenny
#MementoMammae
Thursday, October 2, 2025
October 02, 2025
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
first words
for you
so much to say
I wish you were
here
to
hear
I know
you are
here
in my heart
spaces
between
lines
and
breath
Wednesday, October 1, 2025
October 01, 2025
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
I sit in silence
staring
at the screen
seeking
the shortcut
back
to
you
I see the place
there
between
groceries
and
a goddess
where
I
pressed
five times
a day
for the past
five years
seen your face
smiling back at me
on the screen
I hear my own voice
urging you to be ok
with this
just this
for there will come a time
when I finally
make that jump
across the pond
you insisting you were content
so long as you could see
my face
hear
my voice
'we have FaceTime'
your offer
of solace
when I simply could not make the journey
I hear your phone ring
in the other room
when my finger slips,
my heart skips
then
shatters
on your screen
this
time
I see
my face
1 missed call
nothing now to do
I press on
October Poetry Project
1 of 31
October 01, 2025
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
Fall into Winter
Join me for this season of words...
An exploration of all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities:
nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect
Poetic explorations and Prosaic Musings
(Feedback is welcome, kindness is appreciated)
While these wonderful poetry and prose challenges no longer exist, I am honoring their memory here
October Poetry Writing Month - October 2025
National Novel Writing Month - November 2025
Image courtesy Photo by Kristian Seedorff on Unsplash
Wednesday, November 27, 2024
November 27, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
My hair - wavy flaxen
flowed down
my back
My imagination
effervescent
expansive
and
ethereal
My childhood -
all ballet recitals
and play dough parties
a future
well assured
then
felled
by
a pixie
a parting
and pain
of learning
it was too late
to change
November Poetry Project
15 of 30
November 27, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
My red plastic cup with straw attached
so perfect for blowing a frantic froth of milky bubbles
My orange creamsicle coverlet
a snuggly soft security blanket
keeping me safe even as it, like life, unravelled
My menagerie
a wild bounty of stuffies -
bears, bunnies, kittens and frogs
all cuddly and cozy and love
My kitties
All kitties
Sunny, Coco, Dum Dum, Grover, Speedy, Sweet Lady and her sweet babies, Sebastian, Peppermint, Missy, Dog, Squeaky, even the bite-y bastard Merlin, Moses, Ivy, Sunny, Sasha, Riff-Raff, Scratch, Sniff, Sassafras, Snoozie (Paresseuse), Carlos, Eclypse
Sophie
Lionel
Onyx & Opal
November Poetry Project
14 of 30
November 27, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
Twice
my mother
hit me
though she claims she never did
Once
across the face
for perceived
sass
the shock
stung
more than the slap
Again
on the ass
five times
in front of the fridge
for asking for a glass of milk
from a stranger
why would a five year old
follow fifteen year olds
oh they said I was old enough
to walk home
from school
This tiny yet tall girl
soon found herself
tired
and
thirsty
alone
(the teens vanishing into their own airs)
So I wandered
into a strange house
a woman in the kitchen
smiling
when I asked for a glass of milk
I do not remember
how I got home
or the kind woman's name
just my mother's arm
wrapped around my shoulders
her palm making purchase
on my pants
the refrigerator humming
only witness
to the crime
November Poetry Project
13 of 30
November 27, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
Do you remember
when you knew
nothing
everything
anything
for certain
you were
happier
smarter
sadder
lonelier
were you?
and just when
did you believe
it wasn't
enough?
November Poetry Project
12 of 30
November 27, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
Far from Freddie
yet still rife
with dread
where
the walls
lined with tiny dancers
demons
under the bed
My mother
a nonbeliever
through and through
sat me at the formica table
to memorize
the lords prayer
with much ado
Hurling rhubarb
in the hall
snapping bones
in a fall
Jealous
Jehovah
witnessed
the death of Santa Claus
by her own hand
Covetous
Cousins
purloined
the pool
with a false promise land
and yet
here I thought I was safe
a red baby grand piano standing sentinel
in the parlor
peering
Little house on the prairie
through the lattice
an emerald ring
on my tiny finger
Until one late afternoon
bled into night
and she said
we were never going back
home
all good things
they say must come
to an
end
November Poetry Project
11 of 30
Tuesday, November 26, 2024
November 26, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
how I love
the smell of new box of crayons
all the perfect points
still sharp
wrapped in matching labeled paper
the sunset orange
the sea green
and cerulean blue
oh and
pretty
please
periwinkle
within the lines
or willfully
outside
even within the lead etched
gray gradients
we color
our lives
November Poetry Project
10 of 30
"From the moment I held a box of crayons, I knew this was my life." - Matisse
*Pervenche - French - Periwinkle
November 26, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
I used to be flexible
contorting my being
to fit
the world
as a child
my world
was wild
limitless
when I knew
what I wanted
to be
if I had
to be
in that
place
the when you grow up place
the essence I easily embodied
curling my feet
to my head
How could I not -
Sunny climbed into the crib
with me on day one
My instincts inspired and honed
like a cat
that combination of hearing
with a preternatural understanding
of cause and effect
sensing what is unseen
The years have stiffened me
settling me into the forgetful grind
it is a struggle
to bend
to rend
maleable
my will
for fear of falling
and not getting back up
but my tail is twitching
I feel the charge
sparking my spine
It is time
to bounce
November Poetry Project
9 of 30
"So remember, Mr. Whiskers may be lazily lying on your couch or lap, but he knows what's going on around him. If he decides to pounce, he’ll know exactly where to jump without ever seeing the object that caught his attention" - Fischer Science.com
November 26, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
Hovering Headless
mannequins
haunting Goodnows
Their long nail-less fingers
finding purchase
in your ribs
Discorporate
Blue-eyed Indian
woman
watching
while
you
sleep
from the Wakefield
wardobe
Tiny little
hearts
hiding
under the bed
their beats
heard
in the hallways
pooled with piss
and righteousness
the pulse
and then
the
long final
beep
of
Asystole
November Poetry Project
8 of 30
November 26, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz0
Comments
I barely remember her
all I see
in my minds eye
is an amalgam
of images
running together
like
Joe
soft tawny fur
black tipped ears
slender flanks
I see her standing
tall in the grass
of our front yard
I do not know
where
she
went
or
why
we had no other
ever
So here, Now
I keep her paw prints
on my heart
November Poetry Project
7 of 30
November 26, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
I remember that time...
Waking up
from a wintertime nap
to find a bounty
of boxes
wrapped in crimson stripes
and emerald garland
beneath
a
pvc
tree
Oh the joy
bubbling up
with giggles
and grins
Sunny inspecting my work
with his red mittens
and twitchy tale
dragging the biggest
of them all
far taller than me
into the bedroom
mommy and daddy
curled up beneath
the covers
the windows displaying
jack frost's best
My mother's shriek
My father's groan
asking me why
I thought it was Christmas Morning
alas I was three days early
The gifts were re-wrapped and bows restuck
rearranged again
below the sparkling scentless tree
and when the day finally came
Santa had left the stockings full
and I had forgotten
what I had seen
each gift
a surprise
once over
To this day, I do not remember those gifts
well, most of them.
Except the one
it was my very first one
that one
yes, that was it.
shame
November Poetry Project
6 of 30
Monday, November 25, 2024
November 25, 2024
BY Jenni Astramowicz1
Comments
We would take long walks
My mother and I
along the country road
near our neatly tucked-in
tiny house
my tiny hand
neatly tucked in
to hers
"to the secretary" - I would proclaim
when she would ask where we should go
so off we went
to Wildwoods
where I wanted
to wander
with the tiniest of them all
all the little children
'tell me all their names
so I can call to them'
from my tiny bed
with its chenille pink bedspread
so neatly tucked in
My mother would smile
" you always want to see the children"
Only to frown when I would explain
"I do not want them to feel lonely"
the grass between the stones
leaving my shoes damp
for the walk home
Can we come back tomorrow? - I would plead
She would nod, then say something silly
"unless I leave you out here alone with the skunks"
I would laugh and protest
turning to look back at the 'the secretary'
I would not be alone -
She would cup and kiss my face
ushering us quickly
back up to our safely tucked life
November Poetry Project
5 of 30
