Hour 1- An ode to Mother Theresa

A magnificent soul with hardship to endure

A mother of spirituality and woman so pure.

When I think about all the good she ensured

Everyone else’s vision was obscured.

World war years we learnt in our books

Evil and corruption, brutality and crooks

She stayed humble and caring,

Inward happiness and peace

Trying to get rid of fear and sickness to cease.

With the storm around her, her soul remained calm

The world continue to hurt and harm.

The day she died, a dove was set free

With the heavenly angels she could love and just “be”

Empowering many with all that you shared

To hand down the heart of someone who cared.

Poem 3

Light streaked cross my room
Alighting the dust
Landing on my bread and dancing
On my water.

Mother ran brush through my hair
Preased my wrinkles out
With the heavy cast iron.

The sound of children shouts soundtracked my days.
Their snores tickled my ears.
I can remember the touch of mother’s hand through my curls.
Staring at the crack in logs. Silencing my dancing musings.

One day I went to find the bread soaked in its rays.
I found a body on the floor. My mother no more. Just a body.

In my twenties the dust still danced. Across my room
Waiting for a man to come.
I had much idle time then.

I could not read.

I sewed streaks like sun across my blankets amd waited.

Eventually the sun still streaked. But I did not feel a warm burn. I did not see a dust ballet.

Til I was a body as my mother had been the years before.

Hour 3 (2020, Original) – “The Human Chase”

This is not in “The Bop” style, as the Official Prompt suggests; but it does discuss many current world problems. So, I hope this may suffice. {Potential Trigger Warning!!}

 

THE HUMAN CHASE – By: H.J / author H.J ©️

They only love me when I’m beaming,
only love me when I’m strong;
they only love me when I am standing on equal sides of wrong.

They will hate me for my lover and they’ll hate me for my voice;
They’ll hate me for my body,
for my peace
and for my choice.

They’ll hate me for my gender and the way I keep my hair.
They’ll hate when I show up
and they will hate when I’m not there.

They will hate me for my space
and for all my boundaries too;
They’ll hate that I won’t let them in and hate my passion when I do.

They’ll hate me for my Faith;
for my culture, shade of skin.
They’ll hate me for my parents,
Mother’s tongue and origin –
They’ll hate my primal randoms, when I never had a say.
They’ll hate it when I try and they’ll hate when I don’t play.

They will hate me for my courage, they will hate me for my fear.
They’ll hate me for my rest,
hate my optimism and career –
They’ll hate me for my apathy,

for my tears and for my cheer;

They’ll hate all my success
and hate each idle,
passing year.

They’ll hate me for my freedom;
and for seclusion, too –
They will hate when I’m not me and they’ll hate that I’m not you.

They’ll hate my education and
although I try to learn;
They’ll hate what I don’t know
and claim I ‘want’ to watch things burn.

They will hate me for my clothes,
for my safety and my woes.
They’ll hate me for ideas,
for my story
and my prose.

They’ll hate me for my money,
for my house and for my kids;
They will hate me for my street post and because I sleep on skids.

They’ll hate on my redemption and will hate me for my sin.
They’ll hate each point of wisdom,
and when I don’t know where to begin.

They will hate it when I share; and keep calling it a bluff –
Then they hate when I deplete and shout ‘it still isn’t enough!’.

They will hate me when I’m hungry;
and for anything I eat,
They’ll hate me when I’m healthy; and any rough day of the week.

They will hate me for my wheelchair,
all my aids,
and my legs, too;

They will hate each type of function;
What I can and cannot do.

If the goal is ‘never’ hate; then why keep choosing to?
History is gone, until we bring it into view –
but can we consciously remember;
without being toxic, too?

More hate will only perpetuate
the loss and lack we hope to satiate;
The patterns in each corner
mean this pain may never end –
They will hate and hate and shake and break;
Taking pieces ‘til I’m dead.

Then?
In the name of ‘vengeful mourning’,
They’ll repeat The Chase again.

 

3 – To Be Up Before The Sun

To be up before the sun
To see the dawn of day
To wade in the murky sea of night
To watch it dry away

To sketch the silhouettes of trees
To paint the gradient sky
To be up before the sun
To see the stars outshined

11am

Been a long, hard day
feel like I’m about to
drop where I stand

The jobs been tough
And normally I pull
through without a scratch
But tonight was the pits

Shoes are off
the bath has been drawn
steamy and fragrant
with peaches thrown
in

The fires been stoked
and banked
the lights are down low
A little bit of music on
softly

The snow’s raging outside
angry and churning
demanding someone listen to it
but I pay it no mind

A book to leaf through
before a long soak
While I take in the
near silence

No demands on my time
nothing else I’d rather do
off for the next three days

My recipe for a perfect
night.

Please love me

I have watched you from a distance

have loved you from that same distance

My heart cries out for your love

Cries out for your touch, your caress

I see you with others and I cringe

I see you love others and I flinch

Please love me too

I need to be loved by you

I need you to look at me with that peculiar glint in your eye

That look of affection you give others

Please love me

Please set my heart afire

Set me aglow

Set me a lit

Please love Me

As a woman longs to be loved

Love me as one you’ll cherish, forever

Please love me

Neographica

Home lies far away, in a land I saw once,

tired, dizzy, no sleep on a plane alone,

first Continental visit, mind whirling,

heart pounding, and yet when I stepped down

and looked, there was a beginning,

and fear was there, yes, but hope.

and I stepped down, coming home

to a place I’d never been before.

Poem 3 | {Sorrow is my saviour}

By Ajanta Judd All Rights Reserved – 1 am 27/06/2020 Australian EST

Prompt 3: The Bop is one of my favourite poetry forms. There are three stanzas. Each stanza is followed by a refrain (so the same statement is repeated three times). The first stanza is 6 lines long and presents a problem. The second stanza is eight lines long and can explore or expand the problem. The third stanza is 6 lines long and can either present a solution or document a failed attempt to resolve the issue.

_______________________________________________________________

 

{Sorrow is my saviour}      

 

Sorrow is my saviour

Unlike your cold behaviour

At least I can feel my pain

But you are once removed

Emotionally unavailable

and already out the door

 

That’s what I get for ignoring red flags….!

 

No more will I fill your void

That great gaping hollow

Which screams to be filled

With bits of the other

Bitten off in chunks

And devoured with relish

I became your receptacle

Where you dumped your baggage

 

That’s what I get for ignoring red flags….!

 

Well, I have emptied the bin

Your rubbish has gone to the dump

I’ve gone and washed my hands of you

Sanitised and disinfected

There’s no more harm you can do

You’re out of my life, you’ve been rejected.

 

That’s what I get for ignoring red flags….!

2020

The country is burning

Brown skin a death sentence

Children locked in cages

No justice for the wronged

Fascists in power

Simple-minded individuals screaming about masks

 

And you ask me if I’m okay.

 

Citizens angry for all the wrong reasons

Racism bubbling over

Ignorance is a flavor they’re too comfortable with

Misinterpreting the bible

Highlighting history to justify their hatefulness

Know when to play the victim

Beliefs not their own

Hate in their bones

 

And you ask me if I’m okay.

 

In the middle of a pandemic, we fracture and crack

We argue over who is allowed to be murdered

You choose a job over another humans life

You purposefully choose not to save others

Masks are uncomfortable but you’re okay with murder

And you cling onto your hatred colored morals for dear life

 

And you ask me if I’m okay.