Black Diamonds !

Within the depths of darkness, they strive to live to tell a story,
Coal miners dwellers, in which they are shadows on that mine
They warfare the earth, its secrets and techniques they delve,
in search of black diamonds, their memories they notify it

Their courage and electricity, a beacon of light,
As they toil in silence, through day and through nighttime.
Underneath rocks, they’re carving their beautiful dreams
in the heart of the mine, in which they are gleam diamonds

Every day faces complication, with every passing hours
But their spirit endures, they believe their labor
Even in the depths of the earth, where existence’s so intense,
Coal miners, unsung heroes, never step back like a soldier

With every swing of the pickaxe, each bead of sweat shed,
They combat to stay alive,, to earn day by day bread.
Within the heart of the mine, their turmoil no one can understand
Coal miners persist, of their will to survive.

Sometimes the mine swallows their breaths with their dreams
Even though, they never frighten with incidents,
they brawl in, they become roaring voices to lit other’s future.

 

Prompt -19       

Hour-19

                        

Hour 19 text prompt- the room

Made of glass and metal

Hazard in every tube

Wood and fabric monsters

M&Ms and juice

Eaten by the fistful

Empty trash remain

A wild dino dinner

Plated on a plane

Plateau of terracotta

Cubonic and yet flat

And past trees pressed carefully

In page in high demand

Micro

Looking at my forearm under the desk lamp,
I see an indention previously unnoticed.
Can I now have a fortuneteller read my arm
for signs of my destiny?

It may have been the trick of the light,
inducing me to think my vein had become
a roadmap to palm readers.

Looking again, I wonder what
I think I saw.

Will this stubborn awareness
coupled with sudden self-diagnosing
become more pronounced
as I age?

Where am I?

Softened corners.

Warm layers.

Vibrations of a living fuzz creature.

Collected thoughts.

Could it be I know where I am?

Poetry room – Hour 19, Prompt 19

The room is a blur

my thoughts are a-stir

the lizards are monsters

their cages mid-whir.

 

Coffee, poetry mix

doing lots of cool tricks

words jumping off pages

into canine cages.

 

The dogs are loose, too

this place is a zoo

my dwarf frogs grow big

like fat little pigs.

 

My green shamrock tree

stuck in March will it be

till December, you see

I missed holidays three.

 

My coffee is gone

poems, now strong

not inarticulately

pets now asleep

I write just for me.

 

– Sandra Johnson, 9-3-2023

 

Hunting for the emergence

As the rain ran to the ground,

Everyone ran to cover by all means

She stayed in a secluded resort,

far away from my respite.

She was a viable queen raised by a late prince.

But she didn’t license her name to my earpiece.

Here she came –

The expression on her face

To me, wasn’t as cold as ice.

To the heart with guilt, she was pierced.

As a stranger, I’ve only met her once or twice.

I’m sorry to myself.

I miscalculated the timing of her emergence.

Snatched (Poem 18)

Snatched (Poem 18

 

The raven’s eye looked terrified

It was in shock as the companion flew away

The flying stroke as if conveying to the onlooking bird

What I deserve

I must get

I’ve worked hard to earn it

And if someone tries to take it away from me

I’ll snatch it right away !

 

 

 

 

 

In response to image prompt number 18

Hour 11

Realized I probably should’ve been noting when I don’t us the prompt for the hour… oh well

 

Hour 11

 

Every seven years I have a new body

All my cells have changed

And yet I feel the same 

I wonder how many years it takes

For my soul to change

For my spirit to find new beliefs

To think in new shades

How many years do I wait