Washing Guilt Dry

I’m on book 3 of the #ReadWithRD for 2018 and it’s Rupi Kaur’s The Sun and Her Flowers book of poems. Reading poetry hasn’t been my thing, the last time I read anything that rhymed it was underneath the title, Where The Sidewalk Ends.

Why wasn’t I ever interested in poetry before?

Maybe I strayed away because the word seemed too feminine and had over the top emotions, corny jazz music and far out artists weaved beneath its definition. And there was no way I’d fit in there…

So imagine my surprise when I began to enjoy it, which then lead to an embarrassing amount of Google searches to gain some perspective and history on the art of poetry.

My searches led me to Blogging University’s Intro to Poetry course and on a whim, I signed up. Its follow-up email sealed  the deal by stating, “Sometimes we need a little nudge to get in touch with our creative side.”

I have my own theme I’d like to conquer by using poetry and would like to see if it helps.

This week’s prompt involved water:


Grandma’s death washed me dry
and left me without any layers.
I spoke the truth but it felt twice removed
because she kept secrets like a gypsy.
Guilt crept in and rinsed my skin
clean of any wrongdoings.
Because truth be told, none of us knew
the real J. Ruth in the beginning.


Tell me poem readers, what do you think? RamblinRandol -

copyright @ramblinrandol 2018