Morning Glory
My Dad said to me,
“Good morning, Morning Glory!”
Now a memory.
Gone Girl (prompt 7)
I am not that person anymore
the girl who once sat passively
as she was consumed
by every raw emotion
much as you may not acknowledge
I am not that person anymore
the girl who waited in silence
for love to come home
I can’t pinpoint when it happened
the day she disappeared
I am not that person anymore
my life is peaceful in her wake
I do not bite or push away
when kindness shows up at my door
though I will not forget her
I am not that person anymore
What Never Was
forty-six moments to a lifetime,
you and I remained while the sun shined curtains of gold,
as your green eyes foretold me stories about our lingering hands and famished mouths,
within arms reach, a mere three feet
Prompt 7 – Text: When I Was Young
When I was young,
I thought too much
I only ever wanted
To be a grown up
I’m older and I remember
When I was young
Good and bad
were always around
I know now that they were all lessons
But i wish I had known that
When I was young
Because time I used like paper
Now when I write
I take my time
And I think back only sometimes to
When I was young
Ultraviolence
Ubiquity is the name of the game.
It seems no matter how hard you try,
you never can seem to escape it.
These days, it seems like nowhere is safe.
Supermarkets, churches, pretty much anywhere
people congregate.
The one disease for which we just can’t seem to
synthesize a cure.
The onus is on us to ensure we work together to
put a stop to it
once & for all
no matter what it takes
or else the next casualty will be your soul.
Love and behaviour. (Hour 7 prompts)
when people are in love
they tend to sleep than before
or is it just me and my thoughts?
And i’ve seen memes about the hurts
when people are in love
but I still think it’s my fault.
I guess I’ll never really concur
to how the body act and endure.
when people are in love.
Poem 7: Ode to the Almond
A woman’s tears spill
to the ground, her
tears spill from the wounds
behind her green eyes.
They make small balls
of brown mud. The woman’s
tears are a child’s tears.
The woman’s tears
become mud balls
that grow hard as
compact dirt, the insides
light and filled
with hope that
spills out of her body
with each of her tears.
The woman’s tears
become seeds that
grow into trees
that bear nuts
the shape of her tears.
Afraid to Run Out of Time
afraid to run out of time
I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the face
what ever happened to your skin, I ask
where is your bottom lip, it’s shrunk
your eyes look blurry
afraid to run out of time
You keep squinting to read
they say it’s cataracts
how many more springs will you take delight in
how many more sunrises will you wake up to
afraid to run out of time
how many more kisses are left
you can’t find youth in the mirror
just someone who’s beautiful in the inside
a new day is yet to come, I will no longer be
afraid to run out of time
“Changes leads to goodbye”
Changes leads to goodbye,
For the first time in September,
I worried on where I’m going,
On what I’m after,
On where I was before,
I worried on everything that happened.
And happens simultaneously.
It’s like a tapestry of events,
Happening once more.
They say, it all leads me to open doors.
Changes leads to goodbye,
I have accepted the fact before I turned thirty,
That I would be chasing time,
Again, and again and again,
Slowly, or maybe running fast as I can,
I’ll maybe out of breath
Or losing it before I reach the end.
Life is a hard game to play,
Ironically, it will lead to our fated place,
Changes leads to goodbye,
Even it hurts sometimes,
Breaks us repeatedly,
But it will take us through,
It will take me to you.
Text Prompt:
Every year I made sure to include at least one formal poem. The viator is a poetic form invented by Robin Skelton. I first encountered it as part of Robert Lee Brewer’s Writer’s Digest Poetic Forms Friday series.
It’s a simple form where the first line is used again as refrain in the second line of the second stanza, and the third line of the third stanza, and so on and so forth depending on how many stanzas you include.
#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR07 #24HRSCATEGORY
Sunflowers in a Field
Yoke yellow spheres
hold a buttery glow
Sun silhouettes stand tall
Shy satin stalks break from the breeze
Imprinted mud stays motionless,
dented and dry
Knotted wood sits still, sturdy
as an archive now
Submersed in memory
I sit and swing
as my audience of sunflowers curtsy and bow