The Poetry Marathon

i feel a daisy move near my ear,

i may have drifted off into my dreams.

eyes closed- a whiff of his cologne brings a familiar warmth.

‘go back to sleep love’, he tells me.

my dreams aren’t as beautiful as this right now.

I move closer, my hand rests on his stubble.

eyes closed- he lets out a sigh.

knowing smiles exchanged, i hear the thoughts in his mind.

brown eyes tell me to hold on for some more time.

from tickles to pillow-talk,

his only wish, to have it all.

Note: This poem is written using the image prompt posted during hour twenty.

blue lagoon

scattered thoughts that multiply…

Note: This poem is written using an image prompt posted during hour twenty-one.

half- formed dreams

surround the dim corners

Source: An erasure poem culled out from Pg. 152 from the novel, All the Possibilities by Nora Roberts.

spaghetti, high-waisted denim, and messy hair!

taking the back route to escape old realities,

we end up bustling through the skyscrapers.

two bottles down and carefree howls,

feet dangling off the railing whilst smoking a cigarette.

the almond-colored sky is blurry,

atleast the black of my past stopped pricking me

Note: This poem is written using the word prompt posted during hour twenty one.

old ladies keep up

with the latest gossip

watchtower

Note: This poem is written using a text prompt posted during hour twenty.

legs exposed?

humiliation headed my way

Source: A blackout poem culled out from Pg. 34 from the novel Looking for Alaska by John Green.

the playground

of multiple personalities

dark chambers

Note : this poem is written using the image prompt from hour seventeen 

here they come again,

mocking me, dissing me,

taking a jab, creeping onto me.

jealousy is a black and white game.

to black, white always seems like a weakling.

the sole purpose of black is to extend its callous ends,

to consume the white.

to white, this game is very old now.

white always places a deceiving shield,

for black to think it has the upper hand.

only in the eye of the beholder,

does one know which one is the real deal.

Note: This poem is written using the image prompt posted during hour 5.

mischief had greeted

a half-hearted smile

Source: A blackout poem culled out from Pg. 89 from the novel, Secrets in a Burracombe by Lilian Harry.

winter solstice

the familiar warmth of

i  s  o   l   a   t   i    o    n

Note: This poem is written using an image prompt from hour nine.