24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
I am either experiencing multi system organ failure
or I am just feeling the raw physical effects of not sleeping
either way, don’t expect anything magical to come from me
if you want magic, go watch Harry Potter
He will wave his wand for you
Dont Expecto Patronum anything from me because this girl right here is fucking spent
Listen to the song Your Hand in Mine by Explosions in the Sky, and write during it. If the song is up before your poem is finished, play it again. It is a good song to write to in part because it has no lyrics.
You can listen to the song here.
It’s a sea of glass
No faith to walk on water
Cause every step I take
Causes it to shatter
Every touch bleeds
Letting in the salt
Burning with each movement
Trapped within I’m caught
Too many dreams
To scream up to the sky
I’ve cried them all away
And bled until I died
I painted wind
More beautiful than word
Whispered it to truth
But it goes on uheard
Magic of the night.
Soft tender kisses.
Touch my lips.
The world just melts away.
When I am in his love.
I cannot say yet how I feel,
Whisper to you while you sleep,
In the morning, waking yawn,
I pretend it was a dream.
And in the morning when we wake,
With each kiss you turn away,
I wish you knew that in each kiss,
Is love and love you at daybreak.
I’ll find the words in time I know,
When I feel foundations deep,
But in this moment time fast-forward,
Casting doubt, uncertainty.
The continents may move and drift,
Towards each other or away,
In or out do lovers shift?
poppies closed up tight
keep your secrets close tonight
release them at dawn
Thank God it wasn’t a child:
Seems to be able to be applied
To almost everything
To lessen
The impact
Of doom:
‘The votes are in, we have a new Prime Minister!’
‘Thank God it wasn’t a child!’ the public cried
For all the difference it will make –
But still, it eased a nation’s heartache.
(c) Gemma Hinton 14/6/15
First line borrowed from the first line of chapter 1 of Butterflies in Novembr by Audur Ava Olafsdottir
Tomorrow
‘She turned to say it once again: Tomorrow’
It was the only promise they had but let me be thorough:
It was a promise in a world where tomorrow tomorrow was a lie
For a love struggling to die
In a world of crumpled desires and stolen memories
Where dust had gathered on ancients for centuries
And loved ones dragged along in deepest compassion
Tied to chains, sinking in the dirt of devotion
They made the mistake of wanting
The desire horrifyingly daunting
At dusk, each dusk, boundaries would slip away
And lovers would lay
On the ground of dying beetles and fallen leaves
The beetle, the leaves both outlived them; and witnessed the rivers grieve
The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
Prize nothing above
Life: things may be loved
But only by the living
Though precious the gift
Inviting such risk
Misses the point of giving
Past prompt: What object would you save from a fire?
Form: Alouette
oh, how you terrify me!
(do you have any idea
how much of my heart
you could waltz through
if you only paused briefly
to listen to my music?)