The Poetry Marathon

Prompt six

The Spider King

 

There is an attic full of creaks and darkness

I often wonder if the spiders fear

What’s beyond the attic door

As I do looking there

 

I guess we can never know

What each other sees

My eyes are only two

And in darkness they tend to freeze

 

But spiders they are different

Having a thousand eyes and legs

Fancy a darkness home

A web for those who stray

 

This web they weave

Feeds the beast

Last night’s misstep

Now a meal for the king

 

All these creaks I lend my ear

Can only be eight legs crashing

Through the attic through the door

Into my room so safe before

 

My fear has now taken me

Not in the floor creaking

But in the web of misfortune

Where the Spider King is reaching

Adrift

Set adrift
Where are we going
Somewhere together
Will it take long
It does not matter

Drifting away
But it does matter
How can it matter
What if we get lost

Still drifting
And what if we do
I don’t want to be lost
We aren’t lost if we are here

Drifting away
If we are here
Of course here
With each other
Set adrift

Street Performers

I find myself wondering
about the people on the street
the ones who bang on heartbeat drums
and dance on hummingbird feet.

Do they travel road to road,
the country in their wake?
Or live on one streetcorner,
clutching at the brake?

I wonder all the time:
What will become of me?
What does my future hold?
What woman will I be?

If she is a street performer
I hope that she will roam.
Countrysides to cityscapes,
taxicabs to ocean foam.

She’ll dance her way across the earth,
see all the people pass.
She’ll thank the Lord she does not have
a mansion made of glass.

A nomad’s home is stronger;
It will not fall by stones.
I’ll make my home the woman
that dances in my bones.

2017 – Hour Six

Scared and fearsome
Confident trepidation
Hesitant reactionary
Full speed procrastination

Gentle rain
Soft and cool
Overtake me
Flood the pool

Take away
All assumptions
Misconceptions
And presumptions

Hour 6

A haiku/ senryu sequence

 

music concert
the room abuzz
with mosquitoes

an exquisite phrase
not even one clap
is for the artiste

keeping the tala
an offbeat catches
my ear

Betty Boop, One-Dog Pup Troop -Prompt 6

 

This dog won’t leave me alone

Typing one-handed

as she begs me for a bone.

Or attention, whichever works for me.

 

This little monster is so excited

Just to be here

She’s so happy to have been invited!

She climbs up on my keyboard

Then backs up without typing a word.

 

Expecting belly-rubs just for existing

She’s so cute, unstoppable and persisting.

So I give in and the fun truly begins.

Writing has never been better.

That’s all I really can say.

 

Love

I don’t remember

the whiskey rage

that propelled me to slosh

my drink and yell

“Fuck you”

to anyone who would listen.

 

But, they didn’t listen.

Instead, they just shook

their heads, looking at me

through the plexi-glass that separated

me from the pill bottle

that whispered “take another”

in a milky voice.

I spilled my drink.

 

I looked over at you,

learing at me,

and I wanted to kiss you

but I couldn’t move,

couldn’t lift my hands

to scratch your face.

It wasn’t supposed

to be sloppy or  awkward.

 

You inserted

yourself

into my life.

The needle you kept so close

to you dulled with time, and my fingers

smelled like menthol cigarettes.

Hour three- Light

The lights of passion
finding its way to me
an effect of my search
or a premise to me conscious.
How did you come trailing
looking for me?
when I have been
in search of you for years.
Where you not listening
to my silent prayers
wishes in dejection?
where every blood oozed out
in sweat and cry,
where you not mellowed
to lend me a solace.
When I needed you the most.
Now that you are here
I want to embrace you
cover you from the unseen
to protect and keep all that I can
not just as a handful treasure
but my lifelong earnings
a part of me.

Copyright © Snigdha

Dreams that came true

It seems only yesterday
That i was a child
I had everything yet I had nothing
I had people to talk to but no one to understand
It seems only yesterday
I met you at a point I never thought
The point where I hated myself
I lost my original self
Wanting to be how people want to see me
You held my hand, stopped me from going any further
You became the support I ever needed
That was when I found a soulmate
I always wanted a fairytale love
The one we see in movies
The prince xharming every girl dreams of
When you called me a princess
I skipped a heartbeat
You gave me the fairytale
I always needed

In the Library – hour 6

In the library

(like a poem from before

but less rhyming)

production in solitude

no noisy cats or barking dogs

I get the sense that I have not

done what you wanted

 

I think about parts

of some art that don’t

exist in poetry

like sequels

like covers, renditions

like remakes, adaptations.

Think of some for painting

in the library of all art.

 

I remember the light in the library,

sequences of relaxation.

Use your hands to climb the stairs.

These are running together now,

like we did, bad kids

who were fully adult.

I can’t write the sequel poem

but I remember the first time

I wrote this poem

about him in another library, of law

low to the basement ground.