Wednesday, August 30, 2017


I biked 26 miles summer of 2016,
mostly to prove to myself I could.
I wanted to be strong.
I wasn't sore the next day, though,
I never did it again,
but it hasn't even been a year.
So, that doesn't mean I won't.
I think 100 miles will be my next.
I'll remember sunscreen this time.
I didn't even bring anything to fix my bike if it had broken.
How risky I let myself be.
I listened to billions of podcasts.
I think I'd do any audio book next time.
Maybe my legs would ache. And be sore.
Or, perhaps they wouldn't burn the soft pink they did the last ride.
I felt truly victorious.
Maybe even safe.
Like I did the most and best I could.
If I walked my legs turned to jelly.
Could I really do 100? We'll see.

Riley Welch

Monday, August 28, 2017


I have a reoccurring fear
this isn't a great   .

This is just normal, but I have never known it before.

Though, I suppose I could feel like that about any random section of my life.

Riley Welch

Saturday, August 26, 2017


There was a metaphor about a hand,
but I forgot it.
Clutching softly
maybe --
who has the time for all that, though.
I wanted hard words to spill from my fingertips,
the way they fell from my chattering teeth on nights when I had too much.
Or the way tears fell from my eyes on the last night of my college career,
when I realized I was growing up and out.

Riley Welch

Wednesday, August 23, 2017


For your eyes only,

Days with worry,
they slip out of my hands
the same way sand falls
and I'm not proud of that.

But, I do have some days,
when I stoop below them
and count each grain as it falls.

Which makes me feel less bad about the loss.

Riley Welch

Monday, August 21, 2017


The sky was grey and I lost myself at a stoplight.
The car in front of me had mesmerizing brake lights.
I was glad the sky was the same color as me.
Until I peaked over the rim of my sunglasses, and realized it shone a bright blue,
and I had been deceived.
Left to wallow, knowing it was not like me.

Riley Welch

Saturday, August 19, 2017


Been awake so long, 
but my brain never clicks off.
Only keeps going. 

Riley Welch

Wednesday, August 16, 2017

Main Room

I let salt water hush me to sleep.
Although, actually,
it was just chlorine.
I slept in the same room a ghost made its home.
She tapped me on the shoulder
and told me it was morning while I sang her lullaby to babies.

Riley Welch

Monday, August 14, 2017

Two Highways Intersect

The echoes made Jacob feel lonely once again,
from the edges of the cliff he asked for forgiveness,
in the kind of methodical, practical way people do when they feel regret.
Sitting alone, pleading back and forth to yourself, maybe god.
He wasn't sure if the feeling left him when he decided he deserved his guilt
or when he saw a sign that sealed his fate.
Like a bird taking flight, or a wilted flower.

Riley Welch

Saturday, August 12, 2017

This hiatus lasted longer than expected, but I was tired and the rest felt good. Without the pressure the write three poems a week, I found myself wanting to write more than I have in the past few months. Here's a short haiku, and Monday I will resume normal posting - one original poem on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday. 

I guess I felt a bit lost
or maybe confused
but, oh, it feels much better.

Riley Welch