Tag: Anthropocene

Creativity Poetry

The Least I Could Do

What you do for the least of these…

God whispers from a corner

of the forest where I walk,

and there, beneath my feet

a convocation of earthworms

crossing the path,

etching their prayers in dirt

…you did for me

so I lift them gently

one at a time

to the safe green haven

trailside

thinking…

how simple this task

how easy to take care

of those under foot

how bending down

to lift others up

is a sacred act,

a blessing

in this wicked, wicked world.

Tags Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, nature poems, Poem, Poems, poems about the anthropecene, poems in 2025, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, writing in 2025

Creativity

The sweet honeysuckle breeze is small consolation, brief relief from the headlines of heat waves and hatred. I set off to the woods this morning looking for some kind of solace or peace. But honestly? While my mother threatens to live another four years, I’m wondering if I have to. Everywhere I turn there are disappointments and discouragements, humans making inroads where they do not belong, humans caught where others say they shouldn’t be, humans being…human. I am the generation of John Lennon’s Imagine. Peace signs and hippie hope. But hate comes around again, and again. And again. As if hope and peace are delusions, the dream from which we wake to these long and painful days. I used to think myself the happy one, the silly one casting light into darkness. La La La. But my ninja thoughts tell me otherwise, and I spend my walk wondering about the energetic force necessary to uproot infrastructures.

Tags 2025, Anthropocene, Jen Payne, musings, writing in 2025

Creativity Poetry

30-Love Underfoot

Heart-shaped rocks
underfoot
all around
on the grassy path
and sand dune
from here to the shore
and at the water’s edge

(dare I say even in the palm of the Garçon
at the pâtisserie
whose smile needed no translation)

Hearts!

There was a time I would have
come home with enough
heart-shaped rocks
to border a banister,
fill a bowl and basket,
lined them up to show
the Garçon
in the morning
with coffee and croissants

but I am content now to find
moon stones instead
translucent
round and easy
love in the stars,
the sky, the universe
enough

Photo and Poem ©2025 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Cape Cod, Connecticut Poet, heart shaped rocks, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, nature writing, Poem, Poems, poems about Cape Cod, poems about nature, poems about possibility, Poetry, Writing

Creativity Poetry

29-Possibility

In a persistent
effort
to weave a web
the spider
imperceptible
casts her
silver filaments
from the uppermost
spire of a
wintered
beach plum
one thin
budded branch
from which
a hundred casts
arc and fall
arc and fall
her small labors
shimmering
in afternoon light
prayers of
possibility
glittering

Photo by Matt Hardy. Poem ©2025 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Cape Cod, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, nature writing, Poem, Poems, poems about Cape Cod, poems about nature, poems about possibility, Poetry, Writing

Creativity Poetry

28-The View from Here

There is a slice
of ocean
outside
my window
and in it
the world
from a view
just above
a confluence
of birdsong
and whalesong
the mechanics
of the day
juxtaposed to
sweet, sweet
silence.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Cape Cod, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, nature writing, Poem, Poems, poems about Cape Cod, poems about nature, Poetry, Writing

Creativity Poetry

27-April 2025

A siren wails
and I startle,
a black car idles
and I keep a wide circle,
thunder rattles windows
and I watch to make sure
lightning follows

the world is teetering
and I keep testing my balance,
make sure I am still upright.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, 2025, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Writing, writing in 2025

Creativity Poetry

26-F Stop

There’s this photo
in which he stares
at the camera
and I remember
we’d already
begun by then;
made plans,
talked for hours,
fallen in love, even
by the look on his face;
I remember that day,
our chairs pushed together,
sharing our lunches,
scribbling notes
to each other
like school kids;
but we were hardly that,
hardly so fresh to all of it;
I wish my camera
had focused more,
had adjusted its
exposure
to show the shadows,
the rough edges
and hidden details,
to find the nuances
in the full picture
I see so clearly,
now.

Poem and photo ©2025 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, life with ghosts, Memoir, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Writing

Creativity Poetry

25-Cue 2025

This is Reverend Scott on the valve in the belly of Poseidon.
Quint in the jaws of his worst nightmare.
Jack and Rose at the Titanic’s stern.
Eowyn and the Nazgûl. Harry and Voldemort.
Bruce Willis on the asteroid careening through space.

This is the battle scene.
The climactic moment.
The death scene.

This is before the denouement.
Before the resolution.
Before the credits roll.

This is the moment that needs you.
That demands faith.
That requires courage.
And sacrifices.

So hang on tight, baby,
because it’s going to be a bumpy ride…

Yippee-Ki-Yay, Motherfucker!

Image from the film 2012. Poem ©2025 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, poems about 2025, Poetry, Writing, writing in 2025

Creativity Poetry

24-Be the Grizzly Bear!

Grizzly Bear
and Goldilocks
(that’s not my name,
she says)
are discussing
the merits of
cinnamon applesauce
and whether or not
I would eat her, instead,
barbequed with ranch dressing
but before I can answer
in my gruffy harumphing voice
we’re off to gather sticks
for our make-believe fire pit
and the s’mores
we’ll eat later because
right now
she’s making breakfast
pancakes
with maple syrup?
bacon and strawberries
I love bacon!
which we eat
while she laughs that
the syrup makes my fur sticky
so she cleans it off my hands
thank you
then we pretend-read a book
before going to bed
and I snore as loud as I can
until she wakes me up
ten seconds later
to sit by the fire
(just one more round, she asks)
so I can’t possibly leave
and why would I
ever want to?
there are s’mores, after all,
and a backyard afternoon
that is just right.

Art by Goldilocks aka Alyssa. Poem ©2025 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, poems about joy, poems about playing, Poetry, Writing

Creativity Poetry

23-Visiting

I have seen her
one hundred times
since she died
in crowds
and corners
when I least expect
and last night
in a dream again
looking
fabulous
and forgiving
all my tears
waited
until I was done
so we could
step into the space
of time allotted
that glorious
dreamspace
where everything is
as it was
and we do
as we used to do
for hours unending
until I wake
no longer
feeling
quite as alone.

Poem ©2025 Jen Payne. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, poems about friendship, poems about loss, Poetry, Writing

Creativity Poetry

22-BFF

If these walls
could talk
these shelves
and set-aside
spaces
you might think
I love her
and I do
one hundred times
I do
and have
for so long
I no longer remember
first glance,
first conversation
first spark of friendship
but this
and this
and this
tell our story —
part of it
most of it
the sum of it —
easy to turn pages
in this space
and remember
the miles we traveled,
the endless stories,
the memories
gathered in pockets
to take home
for safe keeping.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, poems about friendship, Poetry, thelma and louise, Writing

Creativity Poetry

21-Mid-April Morning

The morning
thick with sound
spring sound
a humid hovering
of birdsong
and flowersong
buds on trees
whispering
and soft soil
separated
by anxious green
almost ready
for the ministry
of bees
and butterflies
soon to be
tending
and tittering
a symphony
of what is
this moment
and what will be
at any moment
soon.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, nature poems, Poem, Poems, poems about nature, poems about spring, Poetry, Writing

Creativity Poetry

20-Conjured

It’s witchcraft, surely
the lyrics so clearly written
for you and me…ha!
as if she even knows we exist

or existed…
it’s been so long

but maybe we are
whatever we were
whatever that was
something to
write songs about

our confluence
of time and need
desire and connection
in an instant
how we both knew!

like we do now
in moments
the coincidence
of a memory
a sighting
a conjuring of
you and me and
shadows of

whatever we were
whatever that was
something to
write songs about

on the radio
and me singing
like an incantation
a beautiful wicked spell
as your car passes by

Hocus Pocus
I’m sure you’d say
and we’d laugh
again
one more time
for old time’s sake

Poem ©2025 Jen Payne with thanks to Taylor Swift. NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, ghosts, Jen Payne, Memoir, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, Poem, Poems, poems about Taylor Swift, Poetry, Sleeping with Ghosts, Taylor Swift, Writing

Creativity Poetry

19-Oh Poop!

pathetic
pedestrians
perambulate,
place
pups’
poop
packets
permanently,
propped
presumptuously
pathside,
preserved
perpetually

Poem ©2025 Jen Payne. For more on this topic, order your copy of “There’s No Such Thing as the Poop Fairy” today! NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags #NaPoWriMo, Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, National Poetry Month, National Poetry Writing Month, nature poems, Poem, Poems, poems about nature, Poetry, Writing

Creativity

Witness

Post author By Jen Payne
Post date June 10, 2024
1 Comment on Witness

The chipmunk,
through no fault of his own,
sat trailside wounded
perhaps I interrupted his prayer —
final words on the wind —
but he startled slowly
and limped across my path
with labored breath
into the shady solace
of honeysuckle
as I whispered comfort
in a soft, quiet voice
stayed a while as witness

found myself still thinking
about that chipmunk
through no fault of his own
wounded, trailside
as the blue car crashed
more silently than you might think
into the white minivan
on the busy byway
pieces of metal flying
in front of me, wondering

did he die without fear
quietly — there — in sweet release?

Tags Anthropocene, Jen Payne, nature poetry, poems about nature, Poetry

Memoir National Poetry Month Nature Poetry Writing

Summer

Post author By Jen Payne
Post date May 26, 2024
No Comments on Summer

This is my ode to summer
its simmeringness
its swell of sounds
everything astir
swarming
seething
its steamy storms
smoldering
its days s t r e t c h e d
supplemented
by sustained sun
and incidents
of social sustenance
sonorous
and
incessant
until September.

Poem & Photo ©2024 Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.

Tags Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, Poetry, poets, Three Chairs Publishing

Memoir National Poetry Month Nature Poetry Writing

Hollow

Post author By Jen Payne
Post date May 16, 2024
No Comments on Hollow

In the earthy space
where he and his crown have fallen
lies a sacred place
of rain-brushed roots,
rough, rocky undersoil,
soft green moss and
a small dry hollow in which
one might curl up
wait out the storm
dream of that first root
extended deep into the
damp and loamy sod
its acorn nut split
wide open, screaming
cap askew, laboring
before a symphony release
of tendrils here and there
here and there
excuse me please
this place where it all began
I touch the underside
stroke my hand across time
one hundred
two hundred
his rings indecipherable
how many years
and storms
and creatures like me
tucked in for solace
and safekeeping
can you leave me here please
and leave me be
to watch the dark clouds
gather and pass?

Tags Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, nature poems, Poetry, poets, Three Chairs Publishing

Memoir National Poetry Month Nature Poetry Writing

Next Generation

They will no more notice
the loss of the White Pine Way
than they will the spidery web
of atlas lines
that told you how to get
from here to there.
That sacred knowledge —
our finger touch of distance and time,
the intuitive knowing of how —
as foreign as the waypoint Oak
that stood mid-path,
its forked trunk noting
this way to loop back home or
that way, the path less traveled
that way, where the white pines whispered welcome,
and the weathered veins of the world let go
just long enough for you to hear your breath
and muted footsteps on the soft ground,
where you could disappear
into shade and shadow
and silence…
before the storm
the shearing off of what
we thought we knew for sure,
the deception of always
and certain revealed now
against the stark blue sky.

Tags Anthropocene, Connecticut Poet, Jen Payne, nature poems, Poetry, poets, Three Chairs Publishing

Memoir National Poetry Month Nature Poetry Writing

Trespass

Trespass

This is no place for a cricket
I said out loud
to him and to nobody,
then lifted him gently
into the confines of
an old coffee cup,
belly of a whale
for all he knows of
Columbia and Sumatra,
but they sing there
like he does,
and who’s to say
his are not folklore
themselves —
long-told stories
passed down
late at night,
to our ear
cacophony,
to theirs
a thousand tales
a million years
the universe
in the short patch of grass
now, there, and safe,
as safe as Jonah
I pray silently

forgive us our trespasses

as I walk back to my car
parked askew
in the crowded lot.

IMAGE by Hobiecat. Poem ©2023, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.