Tanka Prompt#9 from Image
Tanka
Cold snow clothes the ground
I am alone in this whiteness
no human comes here
peace and tranquility reign
society does not intrude
Hour 8 (2022)
I bought oranges for the end of the world
$5.99 a bag, what a steal!
Even the threat of death and nothingness
won’t wipe the thrift from my bones.
Capitalism tastes like
a citrus apocalypse on the tongue.
Burning in dollar bill paper cuts.
We thirst for what little brightness
is hiding on the horizon
and clawing at the peel to find it.
I bought oranges for the end of the world
A citrus apocalypse on the tongue
The explosion hits like a bomb,
vapors sting my welling eyes.
Turns out my bag of oranges
were onions this whole time.
Pure Solitude
Isolation keeps the soul hungry
and marching through
the snowy plans. All can be found
on this walk of solitude.
Earth begins to make
sense when taken in raw.
As the midnight sun rises
I am grateful for silence.
I am home.
Stereotype
Don’t try to make others fit
Your limited box of expectations.
Take the lid off of the box
And let the fresh air cascade in.
For there is so much more
To treasure in the shimmering depths
Of who one truly is
Beyond a two dimensional label.
Mandy Austin Cook
Hour 9 – Music Box
this skin is too big for me
i have tried to make it smaller
to be quiet and polite
out-of-the-way and good
i want to be a music box
folded into the neatest cube
and playing the sweetest tunes
and I would be so good at it
but i would only have one song
i am more of a cassette player
if you teach me some songs
i will sing them back all day
i hear a lot of songs:
jingles from commercials and
tiktoks and the radio and CDs
but there is a lot in between
there is a lot of being a person
and it stresses me out
a lot of talking and working and thinking
and trying to find the right song
this skin is so big so empty
that it echoes at night my heart
beat in my ears my brain screaming
in a space its afraid to fill
Hour Eight : reshaping roots
smooth and shiny
white blue pebbles lie strewn
on the shore
after the storm
that uprooted
their strong and firm roots with force
the Banyan tree that crashed
through the roof and burnt the car
after the storm
that made them hunt for
their family histories all over again, their large wall sized family tree
of names and relations
turned to dust leaving sporadic traces
in debilitating memories
smooth and shiny
white blue pebbles lie strewn
on the shore
after the storm
calling out to the young children
to rename, reframe and reshape
their destiny
free from the burden of
histories
Baked
Last night
Baked healthy treats
For a long Saturday
Oats with many fruits in blender
Whirling worries away
Of what to eat
All day
8th Hour – GIGAN How We Got Here
Hour Eight- GIGAN How We Got Here Mary Pecaut
After Ruth Ellen Kocher
you imagine you are god – a god like no other
like Zeus, the ruler, protector of all gods and humans
you imagine you are here to help gods, goddesses and mortals
-unless they are not worthy of your help –
giving rights and privileges in exchange for allegiance
your weakness for women should have been your downfall
repeat cheat in a world without morals
as though we cannot see you
shape shift, lie and deceive
a tame white bull in Europa’s father’s herd you
rape, for you imagine you are god
your weakness for women should have made you fall down
down down to the underworld
apprentice to Hades
godly power can be misused
ask anyone seduced by Zeus
(9th Image prompt)
Snow is upon the ground There is not a soul around I am stuck inside Forever wanting to hide Away from the sunlight That keeps me up at night I want to build a fire But I am flat like a tire No umph to get it done If I did, I'd have some fun But the snow is on the ground There is not a soul around