Rachnoc Haiku 5 Hour 5
The mirror hides ghosts,
Rippling saline’s cool depths,
Masking crustaceans.
The call of winter,
The convalescent island,
Eight tentacles know.
I’m Sorry
I’m Sorry
I’m sorry, my poor babies.
Sorry for not catching your tears
while being whipped to speak English.
I apologize for not running to your aid
when you cried out in pain
as they yanked your hair
and chopped it off.
I know it’s not enough,
when you’re called degenerate
and savages by
the glaring eyes of your “teachers”
I wish I could’ve cut those
nightmares of constant abuse
left by the government.
I’m sorry, children,
that you were silenced
and thrown away
like ragged dolls.
All I can do for you now
is to pray for your peace
and share these unsaid apologies
through my work.
12:00 PM – Walk Around Heaven (Hour 4)
If I could
Walk Around Heaven
I would quickly break out into a run
and jump into the arms of
Frances and Bernard
momma and dad
Squeezing tight
with an unbreakable grasp
bracing my heart
and steady my
focus to hear
them whisper
simultaneously in opposite ears
that they love me
if I could walk around heaven
I would
~ d², 09.02.23, 12:47 PM
Copyright D Squared Poetry, 2023.
© All Rights Reserved.
“The amicable personality of an aged woman”
Your silver locks were shining bright,
During the silent night.
Evergreen beauty isn’t only skin-deep,
But, she looks gloomy whenever weeps.
Being hale and hearty,
Exceptional teachings are quite noteworthy.
The shimmering pearl necklace,
Is like fresh flowers in a vase.
An aura of calmness on her face,
As reading a book at a place.
Is pure & charming,
I crave values that must be enduring.
Makes me remind of nostalgic for memories,
As cooking delectable curries.
Used to have fun with children,
Bagged the first prize in a marathon.
Boldness with confidence,
Add years to her elegance.
Has an emotional bond,
Wants happiness along with magnificent dining,
I am fond of poems that are rhyming.
As light as a feather,
Cool-minded during the heavy downpour weather.
This is the phase of relaxation and enjoyment,
Taking up a hobby and doing some movement.
Quotable pearls of wisdom,
Like pondering over the idea of freedom.
As living in serendipity & opulence,
Good at maths, when measuring circumference.
My cheerful disposition is alluring motivation,
Starting the new journey,
By changing our revolution.
As the picturesque landscape is appealing,
At night crescent full moon is glowing.
In the age of clutter-free life and retirement,
Like she is travelling,
With buddies for amusement.
(c) preksha puri 2023.
Letter to Sleep
To my darling
My dearest sleep
Dear Sleep
To Sleep –
I hope this note finds you well. I believe it is time for us
to be on the same page regarding our needs and desires.
It is my goal that this note better communicates to you
my part in our relationship, and how I respond to your
part of our relationship.
Our conflict began early, when you gave me my first
hypnogogic hallucination when I was five years old.
It was in the afternoon, I was tired. I saw the kitchen
erupt into fire! Terrified, I ran through the flames for
my mother’s help, not noticing that I felt no heat from
the conflagration. Upon our return, the flames were gone!
Nothing was on fire. I was confused. Mom scolded me
for lying. I needed a nap.
The cataplexy erupted ten years later. I was trying to live
with severe insomnia, nightmares and night terrors,
sleepwalking, sleep talking, automatic behavior and more.
Suddenly I was collapsing at the knees with laughter or tears.
Then I fell out of the shower, hit my head on the toilet,
knocked myself unconscious. I know you remember that!
I would soon learn that I was a perpetual “FALL RISK.”
DIAGNOSIS: Type 1 Narcolepsy, aka Narcolepsy with Cataplexy
A neurologically based sleep disorder, autoimmune in nature
So! Here we are, Sleep, my deeply disordered life partner…
I must be honest with you. I am frustrated. I am often angry!
I have been cheated by you; cheated out of childhood, education,
friends, love, travel, career, family… You have cheated me
so many times! I did not consent to this relationship with you.
I am forever chained to you, freedom never wholly mine.
I am at your mercy. You have stolen from me.
You have made me undesirable…
My Disordered Sleep,
you are the worst bedfellow a girl would never ask for!
Could we please discuss a separation?
It has been decades and I really need a break.
Thank you.
Sincerely
Respectfully
Talk soon
I hate you
From,
Your Life Partner (me)
The Bell Toll – Hour 5
Secret chimes spill voice,
Ringing their cadence and end,
A vow that is final.
Would you?
If I told you
about the void
in my heart;
would you still
look at me
like I mean
everything to you.
Hour 4: Wedding Vows in Waiting Rooms
There is something about the wrinkles fitting together so well even though they rest on different hands
I see him raise a finger to her chin despite his arm being more stone and stiff than bone and bicep these days
There is something about the reflex of it
How many times does your mouth have to tell someone they are beautiful before they will believe the same from just your eyes?
I cannot tell yet if she needs him
If she ever did
And maybe that’s the wonder of it
The wanting so deeply of that which you never needed
Simply desired
Simply asked to the dance
And kept wanting even after the needs became louder and more envious
And maybe that’s the wonder of it
That he wanted her back just as much
Enough to let his needs keep hers company
I had been trying to decide if I was a lonely person
to figure out if death was scary only because I had been told so
To decide if I wish to find out how brave I could be
with only my own bones to keep me company
If I could ever discover love
When for me, love is more like faith
In that, I had never seen it with my own eyes
Only read myths of its strengths
Asked to trust the children it had raised as prophets
Until today in the hospital waiting room,
And their security radiated across the carpet
As she giggled at his words
There is something about looking at someone and knowing
you have built a miracle together.
Prompt for Hour Five
Text Prompt:
Write a mystery poem. The crime could be real or imagined. The poem could be clue based or narrative. The details are up to you.
Image Prompt:
By Martin Torrez
Blue Hell
These are not riddles, these are not rhymes. They are far from fiction they are damn near crime. Being put into a position to display hate; not really my cup of tea. It’s certainly not my fate and definitely not my dream. To be used and misused and not tossed away. Kept ‘round so that when your end nears I’ll be in dire straits.
To be one who butts in and secretly make choices on another adults life was not yours to do but you did and it shows your scorn and wickedness too. Born to be a slaver, you’d made a strong bad queen yelling “off with her head” any time you wanted to clean.Shame should swaddle you and your ugly behavior.
Now you want to be punished before you go so the Lord will forgive you and see you as a lost soul. But let’s not forget our lives have been all seen. So, there’s really no escaping the sins you have weaved.
Will the Lord be forgiving? Yes, I’m sure He will. But I’m done fighting you. I’m done being Blue Hell.