prompt #7: response to normal ~
What is ‘normal?’ Who is s/he?
That all the world adore her.
I find, my friends,
that such a one ends
with family who abhor her.
Waiting
Waiting for fall
for those golden
leaves
Watching the sky
for the autumn
rains
Imagining the day
for it seems
far
Dreaming of colors
only fall promises
us
Hoping it lasts
longer each year
new
Praying for fall
for those cooler
days
Waiting for autumn
to finally get
here
Dark Desire
Featherlight touches across oiled skin
Candlelight, conversation and love songs
Sexy come-on’s and come-hither games
The give and take society demands
Lovers play to get ahead
One with the other and both together
Do ‘naught but raise my ire and temper
It is not a crooning country song
Nor hyped up rap with a solid bass beat
And it is certainly not the thought of sliding
Between cold expensive satin sheets
These things will only irritate me
Use these to catch another’s eye
Deep into this woman’s soul
A primal energy dwells
Something dark, not evil
Yearns for more than pretty words
Diamond rings or tall good looks
The need is great the call is fierce
Where then is the one to give
What this one needs to live, to breathe, to let go
Where is the blackness to my dark
The one who needs what I can give
The one who gives what ‘ere I crave
Am I the only one
The only one who shuns those
Perceived as weak and unworthy
The only one who starves for the strong hand
The piercing eye and the knowing smile
Of the one who sees who I am,
What I am
This is my normal, it is how I’m made
It is the core of me, the essence of the woman inside
My body shivers, my hands contract
At the thought of your hard contact
The brush of your hand at my throat
Cause places not mentionable to coat
Find me then, I know you’re there
I just can’t find you anywhere
We are the same, you and I
Some day I hope that you will see
That I am for you as normal as you are for me
Normal Poem
Normal Poem
This is a normal poem for normal times.
Like normal poems, it normally rhymes.
It goes to the store—without masking up.
It hugs its grandmother; she sings at worship.
This poem goes to concerts—makes dinner for friends!
This poem is so friendly it overextends.
It only thinks “swabs” when it thinks about Q.
It’s as open to me as it’s open to you.
It likes regular stanzas: all lines in their place.
It doesn’t know chaos or shared live/work space.
It goes to the office; this poem’s a commuter.
It gets down to business on a desk-top computer.
This poem does not zoom. This poem does not go.
It’s an end-stopped pre-covid old-timey memento.
Prompt 7
There’s so much talk about normal –
the “new” normal after my parents deaths,
the “new” normal post pandemic.
People have asked me before
“why can’t you just be normal?”
The truth is I don’t know what “normal” is
and I don’t think I want to be normal.
I was supposed to have a husband and kids by now,
a house in the suburbs,
maybe be a nurse or a teacher,
a good Christian woman.
But I’m a 52 yr old queer woman,
never married,
no white picket fence for me,
a social worker.
I went left instead of right.
I don’t want to be normal.
I’m a rebel.
a silent rebel.
Touch me
Touch me till I get melted,
Hold me till I get vanished,
There is no other home,
Other than your warmth…
Hold me till I get vanished,
Heaven will find me.
Other than your warmth,
No life is found,
Heaven will find me,
There is no other way.
No life is found,
Until your touch melts me…
(Phantom poem)
The Land Knows You Even When You Are Lost – Hour Seven
When everything seems hopeless and fraught in great despair
And you’re left with much to question with life crumbling everywhere
You may be left to ponder, as you question where to turn
O’er that sacred place of solace, where you’ll find that peace you yearn
Is it there over yonder, just beyond the line of trees
Or maybe looking westward nestled near the honeybees
Or maybe even sideways for a different kind of view
Where oh where on earth you’ll find it – that place uniquely you
Will you find it in the flowers, nestled in the budding blooms
Will peace find you within them and their happy fragrant fumes
Or will you find much comfort as your head turns towards the sky
And you see the passing bluebird, singing you its lullaby
Only you can know these answers and what shall help you best
When it comes to consolation in the times when you’re most stressed
But, of this, I am certain, after all the ground I’ve crossed
With my feet so firmly planted, the land knows you when you’re lost
Walking barefoot across farmland, with the grass tickling my feet
I can say, for me, there’s comfort and I’m grounded, calm, complete
I’m reminded how I’ve suffered, but by day’s end, I am still
And am strong enough to conquer, all the things left to His will
So whenever you feel hopeless and fraught in a deep despair
Try planting yourself firmly to the earth and find some comfort there
Take a moment to remember and reflect on mountains crossed
For the land shall always knows you, even when you’re feeling lost
The New Normal Ingredients- An Acrostic Poem- Poem #7 By Ingrid Exner
My New Normal- Acrostic Poem
With a simple turn of phrase,
we can marginalize anyone today.
Let’s take “normal” and define it here-
in acrostic style and with a little cheer.
Nurturing our neighbours and friends
Ordinary and everyday places and things.
Random acts of kindness is the call-
Mutual admiration and understanding-
Appreciation for all!
Love for everyone both near and far away.
NOTE: These are the ingredients of what should be “normal” today
Ingrid Exner, Half Marathon Poem #7
Normality | Surya T | Poetry Marathon Poem 7
“Come home” my dad told me
It wasn’t a request, it was a command
Within an hour, I was at home
Don’t think this would’ve been possible before
“Take care of mum while I’m away”
He said as he packed his bags
He was going on a trip he couldn’t say no to
And he was worried for his wife
Before the parasite changed the world
My mom would’ve been left alone
She can take care of herself
But my dad still worries for her
Today it is possible for him to worry less
The virus changed all of this
It wrecked lives and ruined plans
But it brought families closer
Normality in the days of old
consisted of the freedom of going out
living a life for the sake of Instagram likes
while secretly wishing for being left alone
Normality today is entirely different
While Instagram likes still exist for some reason
priorities have shifted for many among us
family time and me time became a must
Normality is often overrated
When people say I wish things were back
I hope they are not talking about being too busy
or the countless hours wasted in the commute
Normality is often overrated
When people say I wish things were back
I hope they are not talking about being unhealthy
due to not taking care of where our hands’ve been
Normality is often overrated
When people say I wish things were back
I hope they are talking about offline classes
and the memories made in a classroom
Normality is entirely destroyed
Online classes sucking the energy from students
No will to study or to learn anything
but just be a token for attendance
The new normal is different
Companies now find more time to work
Than engage in pointless meetings
Or micromanaging supervisors
The new normal is different
Students form bonds over the internet
Not fully open, neither fully reserved
But no real, deep connections made
Do I love the new normal?
It’s a hard question to answer
Well, who am I kidding – not really
But this is a normal that I am finding good stuff in
Soon, it will change and maybe even drastically
But it will be a change coming unexpectedly
Adaptation is the only way forward
For I cannot fight with the cycle of time
–Surya T
Hour Seven, Normal Prompt
Odd
Normal, new, old, or interim,
has never been normal for me.
Squirrelly, standoffish, cold, or strange,
I’ve been called these and many more.
My normal has always
preferred being alone,
with company or no,
yet still alone.
I birthed three children
and married a man
just as abnormal as me,
living for days within
the same square footage
and barely exchanging a word.
Our normal is not lonely,
it is rarely physically alone,
but it is fed in a soul’s
solitary splendor,
touching base
and loving deeply,
yet still deeply, oddly,
abnormally alone.