One thing that is extremely frustrating for me is when I want to respond to a specific prompt, but I can’t seem to think of anything at all, let alone anything good! Sometimes, I feel stuck and can hardly write anything, with or without a prompt! I didn’t write much today that’s post-able, but here you go, a poem about this frustration:
Words and fragments floating in this mind
In a fashion frenzied and unkind —
How difficult to with coherence write,
Before this day sleeps, and turns to night!
Today, during the women’s group that I am a part of, we did a special guided meditation and prayer. When we were given time to journal about our experience, I wrote several very bad and very short poems because I process things best by writing them in verse. I have decided to share one with you. 🙂 XD
I write a crap-ton of bad poetry.
Because there’s a crap-ton of shit
(Look at how articulate
I am) going on. Sometimes I forget
This life is a gift and the
I AM is behind it.
From an old poem,
And the search is quick:
Memory and heart to weep,
For the person who’d connected
With the plaintive, seeming-timeless lines —
That same person now knows much more deeply.
I’m a bit obsessed with ghazals right now, so here is another one, which I worked on yesterday and today, and which was partially written for FOWC: Repose and this prompt about immersion.
You know better than I what’s died in me.
My God who’s living still, abide in me.
One dream not dead has been this poetry,
Ideas are a spring ne’er dried in me.
A verse which starts despairingly finds hope:
See, these two sides have always vied in me.
In words’ expression there is some repose,
Despite immersion in emotions –strong tide in me.
A life not merely written nor read, but lived:
Sparrow-song calls, may freedom be satisfied in me.
Yesterday I didn’t post anything, but I still wrote a few poems over the last 2 days. Although
some most of my poetry is depressing, if I don’t write anything at all, then that’s when you need to worry. 🙂 After reading a few ghazals the other night, several of my own, new couplets were dancing around in my head, so I wrote them down so that I could sleep. The next day, I finished the ghazal, and here it is. I kind of like it.
This is for FOWC: Wing and for this prompt about camping. I didn’t really write about camping, exactly, but it helped to inspire this poem. 🙂
Camping out in my head:
Depression resting in its cold bed,
Anxiety building its abode,
Restlessly clipping my wings
So I’m immobilized instead.
This tent is unpleasant to live
In, but true friends as companions
Mean some hope is given.
Photo by Jessica Jochheim on Pexels.com
It would be cool if a dog could hang out with me.
For today’s FOWC: Essay and a repeat ( 🙂 ) of yesterday’s because why not. Today is a lot like yesterday, in general. Yesterday I left 4 partly-done poems in my notebook, which is very unusual. My hope is to finish those and whatever other ideas that I have gotten or will get today.
Repeat: the same as yesterday.
No need to write an essay,
Just a poem, here at home.
Words keep being my friends
So I am not alone.
I’m happy to have written a décima for this week’s prompt: Zip.
People have one mouth and two ears:
Important, then, is listening
To what one’s neighbor is saying —
Blessèd is everyone who hears!
Yet injustices lead to tears:
Strong overpowering the weak,
A better world most people seek.
God did not create people’s lips
Only for them to remain zipped —
How crucial, then, it is to speak!
The shadorma below was written and posted 2 years ago. I am sharing it again for Fandango’s Flashback Friday. Here is the original post.
Obscure my vision,
But I know
You are there —
These tears are the salty veil
Through which you see me.
But why must all the operations in life be performed without an anesthetic?
– Ernest Hemingway, To Have and Have Not (1937)