I won the Oatleaf Poetry Magazine’s June Competition! This month’s theme was “out-of-body.” The poem that came to me was a sweet little poem to my wife called, You Ground Me.
Give it a read: https://www.oatleafpoetry.com/2025/06/you-ground-me-by-r-william-parmenter.html
This poem is about many things. Manic episodes and depression, self-esteem, confidence, and reworking failed dreams. It’s about trying and failing and trying again. It’s about finding yourself amongst the chaos. I found this poem again after I published my book, Between The Dark and The Light. I’m a little sad that it isn’t in there, but maybe it will end up in a second or special edition — or a completely different book! Recently, I looked at it again while considering what poems I wanted to share on here.
My mind has been dark lately. I realized I needed to play, and not write anything too deep. So, I thought it would be fun to create a piece inspired by trees that is also tree shaped.
It is such a dark time of year in many ways. The actual Winter Solstice brings the shortest day and longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. That is because the Earth’s axial tilt, or obliquity, positions us further from the sun. It is also cold and we tend to stay in.
This poem came to me while we were driving across the country. Since we were moving back to our childhood state and homes, I had a lot of that on my mind. For many people like myself, a place you grow up in can grow stagnant and we strive for change, whatever that may be — new places, new people, different views.
My goal with this poem was to capture my feelings as I’ve returned to the same home and neighborhood I grew up in. Though some rough memories show up, it is different to be here as an older person. I feel grown like the trees I used to climb and can look around with a sort of humbling reverence to time.
A little free form bit to capture what I saw, felt, and smelled the other day. Rain in the desert has a distinct smell, with mostly that of the earthy, peppery scent of the creosote bush. Something I will miss when we leave the desert.