Another set of poems from a year of poetry prompts. The two below were inspired by the word #bruise, from December 2025. Not a Medium member? Read this poem here.
Hot-pink purples Greens and yellows Fading browns — Honeychild, Those long sleeves with thumbholes And ill-fitting leggings Will not keep wise eyes From still seeing Your rainbow Through the bruises.
She aged like a banana. Wherever squeezed, Or pinched, Began as a small blemish On otherwise plump and Sweet-smelling skin; But eventually, Through time, They softened Into bruises On thinned flesh — Starches into sugars. Yet she was still delicious, Bruises and All.
I’m a poet and observer of life. Someday a published novelist. I'm a member of American Poets Society, and a certified Technical and Professional Writer.
