prompt # 8: emoji
My cat startles off after hearing loud fireworks
on this clear night sky among the trees.
Stop! What was that? Did you see that?
WHOA!!!! Im out.
with the use of shorthand
acronyms, emojis
grammar nazis must not like this new writing style.
Harder to decipher.
a puzzle
that can be interpreted in many different ways
Will writing academic papers go out of style?
Letter writing has diminished.
emails have been replaced with quick text messages that look like code.
emojis are universal language
like music and acronyms.
although the biggest problem is
emojis have too many answers instead of only one.
Concluding that writing a poem full of emojis
or translating seems to lack the emotional, benefit of poetry that makes poetry
help anyone.
8: Cleaved
Priorities shift
when the heart is cleaved
clean through:
An axe attack
fiery blue
her hollyglass filled
with dead seeds—
She wants him back.
He’s already headed into
the woods
felled another life
splinters in his wake.
Mornings for looking ahead
no longer for futurecast
and instead
for the unknotting
from the inside out.
Change
Random thoughts
They eat into your consciousness
They gnaw at your conscience
They make you face a life you have left behind
They make you own up to mistakes you have forgotten
Random thoughts
They intrude
They annoy
They leave you restless
For reform
For justice
POUND FOR POUND Cake
A bit of whipping can make the frosting tasty, but there’s a fine line between cream and curd; beating your batter to a pulp may lead to deflated egos reflected in collapsed, cratered, remnants of deserted foundations. Happy cakes, prefer to rise but only in attempt to escape their molds. The pound for pound cake helps break the monotony, as Marie Antoinette once said, “let them eat cake!”
Ingredients:
- Young, romantically hopefully human. Preferably marinated in self pity, judgement, and “daddy issues.”
- Slightly older, narcissistic, eye pleasing, enticing human. Has major issues but will never acknowledge them, unless its to play the victim.
- Short tempers, resentment, depression.
- Pettiness and arrogance.
For added spiciness you may sprinkle the following mental illnesses/disorders: Stockholm Syndrome, PTSD, any variety of anxiety or OCD,
Mix two personalities who should never be in the same room, much less together and watch as the temperature rises.
Batter, doesn’t usually boil, though it runs runny without any substance. Wont hold up, yeast wont rise, stifled in its own demise.
There’s too many pounds in this pound cake, it’s been pounded to a splatter and it’s lost shape, but you keep trying to remake the batter anyway.
maybe, if I use less trauma this time, maybe I’ll stir the pot less; it’ll be fine.
it has to be fine, doesn’t it? wont it?
Not always,
sometimes the batter spatters over the rim and hits with spoilers, tensions rise and stokes the broiler.
not every baker gets to it in time to pull it out and regain composure.
Some cakes burn before you can tier them into submission, without dowels they tend to buckle with intention.
Be cautious on how you mix your batter.
Without the proper foundation, none of that deco fondant really matters!.
-Sugar Coated Trauma-
-CyN-
2020
Random Emoji Poem Translation (Hour 8)
I alone, in love, seeing love, began.
You and I, with passion in our eyes, smiling.
You and I and our love.
My thoughts turn back through time
Smaller hearts orbiting larger hearts,
An attraction that grows between a man and a woman
Patterns of love falling in place.
Kisses, kisses, kisses, 6,000 kisses
A party, a celebration, a baby.
Childhood games that gave root to our identity, music lessons in life,
How to play the excitement, how to wear a ring.
Your laughter is a chapter I know by number,
You love ice cream, I love ice cream.
We fly through French midnights,
Radiant trees and colorful flowers of springs
Castles and cakes, marigolds surround our garden.
We fly through Italian cities, without cellphones, or cameras
We see the flowers and the clouds
Flowers, clouds, and kisses.
I’m cool, you’re cool
All the baby ducks want peace,
We look for peace
All of our lives
Ok with who we are.
Hour 8; Prompt 8: Tiger and I
Tiger! Tiger! Flame and Spark
Space between the trees apart
What spector hand with startled eyes?
Praise surprise left and right
Tiger! Tiger! Flame and Spark
New America (Emoji Poetry Challenge)
Oh Revolt! My Revolt!
Old America is dying
And this voyage is about to come to an end.
Climate change
Pandemic
Economic collapse
Buried hate
TVs and phones burn bright.
Old ghosts can not rest.
Kids killed.
Daddies killed.
Mommies crying.
We aren’t the champions we pretend to be.
We aren’t winning the race to the end.
We are bloody from failure.
Our lip is swollen and tastes of copper.
Our eyes flinch from the light.
Soon, a new captain will take the helm,
The bell will ring,
The slaves will make music.
Blind no more.
Fight or die.
The future will crash down hard.
Hold on tight.
Prompt 8, Hour 8
Prompt #8 and Translation 8 by Ingrid Exner-Tiger…Tiger Emojii…
The prompt is an emoji version of Tyger Tyger by William Blake. But, I think it is missing emoji stanzas.
Here’s the shortened version translated.
My Translated Version
Tiger, Tiger Burning Bright
In the forest that burns bright.
What immortal ghost do you see?
Put your hands up in horror, scream
and run far from thee.
Translation by Ingrid Exner, 2020
Ceci n’est pas une parapluie
Magritte whispers, “Those are not umbrellas.”
He is right, of course.
Those are souls that have been liberated
from the confines of hallways and corners.
No longer tethered to a human hand,
up high they can see
much farther than they did before.
Their bright colors and patterns continue to
shelter those below and brighten the mood
of passers-by.
When the breeze blows,
you can almost hear them,
planning their final escape.
The wires break,
the souls take flight,
disappearing into celestial heights.