Hour Eight
Prompt 8:
Source: Green, John. 2018. Turtles All the Way Down. Harlow, England: Penguin Books.
“Become yourself.
Pause the real question of consciousness. Way deep down circumstances would make you fictional”
Hour 9: The Old Library of my Childhood
It was an old building
With at least a hundred steps!
(Or so it seemed to the me who was six)
The steps gave way to a small hall
With passages on either side
One, to the contemporary, newer world
Another, leading to the old, ancient ones.
I, of course, went for the second one!
That’s where the smell of books was the strongest
That’s where the stories of the old books
Waited, for me, for anyone really
Who was willing to listen
The words were too tough for me then
But I loved it all nonetheless.
Everything from the feel of old, wrinkly pages
To reading the names of people
Who looked at these same words before me
And I hoped I will be someday
A part of them, for others to see
Who will come here one day in this room
Where the smell of books was the strongest.
Don,t Count your Chickens before they are hatched-Poem 9
Don’t Count your Chickens before they hatch- Poem 9
Today is the Poetry Marathon across the globe
Countries with different time zones
Participants from different countries
Have to come together for the same poetries
Have to come together for the same poetries
As Covid has still not left our midst
The Indian variant amongst us didst
Looking from afar across the sea to our territories
Looking from afar across the sea to our territories
A positive could last in the destruction
A negative could mean self -isolation
The vaccines have been our satisfaction
@Sabinah Adewole 26/06/2021
Bop is a form of Poetic argument consist of 3 stanzas. Each Stanza followed by a repeated line. Each undertaking a different purpose
Machine
matter mixed with information,
radiation dancing in the air,
oil floating over oceans-
grease for the gears
of the human machine
continents of pavement
towers tear the sky
lumber falls, crops ascend,
the rhythm of the land,
the delicate hands of time.
spring for the rain
autumn for the grain
satellites
silver
and salt
Normal
I remembering being told that the size of bowl and the size of fish explained how you related to your surroundings,
Even in the biggest pond there must be a place to hide, and small pool can feel empt,
The last year was a body of water changing size every moment
Feeling suffocated then alone
Cycling miles down the beach utterly alone on Saturday,
Then locked away curfewed in my self chosen cell.
When a prisoner is release they take the bars with them,
Standing where I am the before is seen through what happened,
After such a trip there is so much to unpack.
Pain Not Passing
(for hour 9—this too shall pass prompt—from Onweald)
Pain Not Passing
(by the character Nigel Taiman)
Amanda
How can one body endure sorrow such as this
Not even when lashed by The Dragon’s claws did I know such pain
You were the one who was to live
to succeed
to outlast
Amanda
How am I to go on without you
Mia tells me time will heal these wounds
She knows not the depth of the pain
from the memory of your fall
Kaylin tells me this too shall pass
She is a false prophet
to be protected from the caves of Tiurlang
Tell me who is to protect me
from the caves of my brain
when night falls
and the second moon reaches its zenith
and the Dragon comes for me
filled with anger at our loss of you
Amanda
Now is not the Time (Hour 9 Half Marathon 2021)
Now is not the Time
(Hour 9 Half Marathon 2021)
The doorbell rings
The phone rings
I choose to stay
Where I am
Now is not the time for action
We think of love as passion
What if we love inaction
You say it is time to move on
I say moving on is out of fashion
You want me to get up and face the music
But music is not a fact to face
Now is not the time to dance fantastic
I think placing your needs above mine
Is a thoughtless crime
And just because everything in the house
Is telling us there is a fire
I don’t smell any smoke
As I begin to cough and choke
Now is not the time
You tie a string around my pinky
So I will not forget
I see the string and get all panicky
I forget what you said about regret
If I refuse to move to your beat
I don’t feel the passion well up in my breast
And everything is pointless after a point
We are well beyond the point, that point
Now is not the time to meet you in the dark
Now is not the time to meet you in the park for a picnic
If that is what the string was for
I am stopped at the door
My feet are stuck to the floor
The ants you bring back with my uneaten
Rotting portion of the food
You contrived
Are on the make to thrive
Only the strong can survive
You want to talk some more
Now is not the time
Marriage
I hate beaches
but I love the people that love them
I hate musicals
bit I love the people that love them.
I hate love
But I love the person who loves it.
Philip V. Coombs 5-6am
Hour 9: Passing By
Time, grants me many favors,
The greatest,
By passing by
And letting me forget
Reminding me how inconsequential
I am, that for a moment
I too am one with its flow
Passing by
Flowers For My Birthday
A bouquet of flowers is all I need for my birthday to be complete.
Maybe include some roses and some tulips too.
It’s not hard to imagine how much brighter my day would be if someone sent a bouquet of flowers to me.
Maybe an orchid or some violets in blue; honey may be sweet, but I like flowers too.
Don’t wait until I’m dead and gone to send me lily’s that neither toil nor spin.
I just want to see the beauty that will make me grin over and over again.
Marigolds are nice for a special day like mine, but calla lilies could do the trick if they accompany a bottle of wine.If artificial flowers are the best you can do, then I won’t complain if your heart is true blue.