I love April. It’s my birthday month and (as far as we can tell) Shakespeare’s birthday, too. It’s also National Poetry Month!


See full illustration below!

I’ve actually had more poems published than fiction, believe it or not, but I haven’t written much poetry since undergrad. Scratch that—I don’t think I’ve written any poetry since undergrad; I’ve been focusing on fiction and comics. I wrote this in 2008, when my now-husband was training at Quantico. Or was it 2009, when he was stationed in North Carolina? (Sheesh, it’s been a long time. This is definitely a throwback!)

“Missing” was originally published in Inkstone and later in The Cedarville Review. This year, Magali Mebsout illustrated it, and I’m excited to share both works with you here.

Click to enlarge. Plain text below.


Like the poem or the illustration?

Click to tweet: It’s #NationalPoetryMonth! Read “Missing” by @larathelark, illustrated by @MagaliMebsout.


by Lara Willard

Memory is a crazy woman that hoards 
colored rags and throws away food.
—Austin O’Malley 

i’d like to tie
kites to my belt loops
dive off the nicollet
and be carried through partly cloudy skies.
i would hurdle chicago, the piedmont
mountains, free-fall into your backyard.

i’m losing you.
memories thin like brushed hair.
decay comes quickly.

you’ve faded into
souvenirs in a suitcase, patches
torn from a favorite blanket:

naked feet on irish pebbles
and rolling over in the wild grass.
submerging into cold pacific water
lips on mouths of glass soda bottles
fingers turning pages of isaac asimov.

i want to see you and sew things together
but the sky is blue and barren
and the kites on the rooftop are limply
scattered like confetti, thrown
and forgotten.

Read "Missing," a poem by Lara Willard, illustrated by Megali Mebsout #NationalPoetryMonth #Poetry

On the Death of a Genius

A writer friend texted me the news this morning.

Immediately I wished I was in a courtyard with wand-wielders. As a poor substitute, I watched a scene from Half-Blood Prince and made this.


This afternoon I was swiping through old photos of me (which my aunt texted a few weeks ago).

I guess with Alan Rickman’s death, I’m getting all “I open at the close”—trying to decide how to live more truly to my child self. The silly, creative girl who didn’t limit herself, didn’t compare herself to others, didn’t fear failure:


Rickman didn’t get his big break until his forties. He gave us almost thirty years of brilliance—of character immersion so great, people are mourning not only him, but also the various fictional characters he loaned his soul to.

On Tolkien’s birthday, I posted about how long it took him to find success. Earlier this week, I retweeted this from Saladin Ahmed (though I usually don’t share tweets with cursing) because it felt relevant to what I’ve been feeling and reading this year thus far:

I’d like to think I’ve got time, but what if not? What am I doing that will leave a legacy? How am I moving toward my creative goals?

As a student, I always gave myself this deadline age of thirty-three. I’d tell myself, nobody was more influential than Jesus, and he didn’t start recruiting disciples until he was thirty-three. Why expect I’ll make a difference before thirty?

Well, some people do. Some people find fame as teenagers.

But those people aren’t me. And maybe they aren’t you.

So what do we do? We acknowledge that no two paths to success are the same, and those paths can often change. We acknowledge that there is no “right way” or “right time” to do creative things—just the way that makes most sense to who we are and what season we’re in.

We each have obstacles in our lives. The point is not giving up. That’s why we read stories. Characters can’t control their inciting incident, but they can decide how they will move forward. Either way, they’re active:

“Folk seem to have been just landed in [adventures], usually—their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on—and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end.”

(Sam to Frodo, The Two Towers)

Maybe you need more experience or training before you can move forward. Maybe you are a caretaker; someone is dependent upon you. Maybe you have a job that leaves you overworked or exhausted, but you need the income. Maybe you need time for self-care.

But maybe you need to distinguish between what is necessary and what is important, and prioritize accordingly.

So where are you standing right now, en route to your creative goals? What stands in your way? What can you do about those obstacles? How can you work around or despite them? Comment below.