Even the wrinkles don’t slip all at once
People in chairs aren’t the same
As the ones who lose it slowly
One piece at a time.
My eyelashes weigh about one thousand pounds
I’ve got worlds on my shoulders
My speech – stumbles
my hands are clumzy,
I just want to lie down until the dawn
into a river’s rushing flow,
For the 30 seconds I drop
into a state of deeply dreaming.
Written when I was very tired… That first part I practically wrote in my sleep, so don’t try to make any sense out of it. Anyway, I’m still quite exhausted, but totally up to writing 1000 words before I fall asleep on my desk…totally.
They have leapt, and the pot is melting;
they run-on till there’s a tick in the talk.
Dash the salt, win the dash,
something sweet is stuck in the grass.
Don’t watch for beetles in the basement,
their cacophony would blind you;
less than bubbles in the tension,
less than seconds of the earth.
A parallel poem to the one before, also mostly nonsense, also fun to write.
Don’t time the beans too carefully,
they might jump up from the pot;
racing round salty graveyards,
they strain like greedy beetles.
Fluffy chocolate curls and cheese
blink to see beans deeply;
more than ripples beneath the surface,
more than eyes upon the green.
Since I missed yesterday, I’m going to post two poems today that I technically wrote last night….at 3am. So they’re mostly nonsense, but I’ve tried to edit out some of the weirder stuff. They were fun to write at least. Enjoy 😀
One early summer’s day,
beneath a sky both blue and grey,
three friends and all their laughter
tried to outrun a storm.
They felt it coming, the wall of rain
in the souls of their sneakered feet.
“Come on,” said the tall one, “Let’s try to beat it.”
and they took off joyfully.
To their dismay, the leader of the group
called for them to stop.
They skidded, sighed, and ducked under a tree,
waiting for the wall to drop.
When the rain hit, despite their shelter,
it soaked them through their clothes.
It was cold and wet and miserable,
like being sprayed with a hose.
They darted and dashed from tree to tree,
furtive and frustrated, knowing
beyond a doubt, in their young hearts,
they could have outrun the rain.
I went for something pretty simple and fun today; a fond memory from summer camp. It was nice to try my hand at rhyming again, I’ve been neglecting that particular skill. Anyway, I know the ending is weird and doesn’t work yet, but enjoy! 🙂
My toes resonate with the earth,
I’ve carried my fire too long.
I hide it in a pocket in my purse,
But I’d let you see it for a price.
My feet vibrate; blades of grass tickle them,
I’ve let my little flame go dim,
Concealed it behind my hand like a secret,
But I’d tell you what it is for a price.
My legs quiver and shake, rolling up the hill.
I’ve burned myself down to ash,
Buried myself like silver in the mountain,
But I’d show you the treasure for a price
My body aches to dance, to lift my lightning hands.
Let go the raging fire inside.
Discovered like a sleeping volcano,
I’d show you the spark, but it’ll cost us both.
I have no idea. Another strange five minute poem that would take me about a month to edit if it weren’t for NaPoWriMo. Also, by the way, I wrote about three thousand words on my novel today, so I’m a little bit out of it, and not really in a poetry mindset. Anyway, this is sort of inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender, and one of my friends once said I’d be a firebender (though I disagreed at the time). Enjoy ^_^
For some reason, I can’t write a poem about the morning
Perhaps I’m trying too hard, perhaps
I don’t know the morning-time well enough to write about it.
Being of the night owl kind, I haven’t seen a sunrise in years.
Better for me, I think, to write the wee hours,
the single digits, the silent dark of sleeplessness.
Yes, this is the time I know best, when the world is asleep.
I prowl the night, a shadow among shadows.
These small, quiet hours are my domain, my freedom..
I write, and laugh, and serenade the stars.
A good night to be alive, a good night to be an owl.
I’ve been trying to write a sunrise/morning poem all day (for the NaPo blog prompt), and it just wasn’t working. Finally, I just ranted about it, then turned that into a poem. Five minutes ago. I barely edited and it’s pretty lame, but believe me, it’s better than the sunrise poem. Enjoy 😀
These words are pale and paltry,
these hands unworthy to write them.
This voice is weak and quiet,
unsuited to sing His praise.
These feet are clumsy and graceless,
how dare they dance for Him.
Yet i would write until my hands bled
i would sing ‘til i had no voice
i would dance for Him till my legs gave out.
He is Risen! He is Risen indeed!
Happy Easter. God is good.