For FFFC #135 and MVB: Appropriate. Linked also to today’s Writers’ Pantry.
A field full of dreams,
A dream full of doors,
Doorways to many places,
Options more and more.
More and more wondering,
Which is the right choice?
Hearing all futures calling,
Coaxing in their voice.
In this field of dreams,
Proceed unafraid, for
Dreamers come back many times
To find the appropriate door.
So much is happening these days,
I need a ride in a spaceship,
Or some other faraway trip,
To escape this frenetic craze.
What’s needed now? To turn my gaze
Upon what’s beautiful and bright:
Even right here, there is the sight
Of stars, burning brightly from far
Away, a light which is not marred
By difficulties from this fight.
A décima for this week’s challenge and also linked to FOWC: Frenetic. I forced myself to try to write a more positive ending to this poem. Key word is “try.”
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.
This is in response to MLMM’s photo challenge #373, the picture for which is below. I’m not sure who took the picture, but it wasn’t me.
The city street is the sky,
Filled with stars of bokeh headlights
Out of focus; upside-down eyes
Fill with interesting, surreal dreams,
Wishing they could be never-ending.
There’s danger in the way this body’s bending.
I don’t want to fall from the railing.
My current world’s just failing.
A free-verse poem for FOWC: Hack. I decided to post this, even though it’s a little late. Side note: It may have taken me longer to find a picture for this post than to write the poem.
She has half a mind
To hack off all her long hair,
Dye it black, switch to contacts
And try some dusky
Eyeshadow — to follow
That strange, strong desire
To fashion an entirely
New persona, renamed,
Restarting this screwed-up game.
I almost forgot about this week’s décima challenge, so here is my response. This was also inspired by FOWC: Lucid. I used to have nightmares a lot, and they were mostly very repetitive. Eventually, I learned how to control my dreams better so that my dream-self would not keep falling into the same traps!
This is for FOWC: Wand and the Weekly Scribblings, which this week is about hunting and/or being hunted. I decided to go for exciting / hopeful / happy, rather than terrifying. 🙂
What if tomorrow’s sunrise is the most divine?
What if a coming sunset is the prettiest?
What if what you search for, you have found?
What if that drab stick on the dry ground
Is a magic wand, bringing peace, more than a dream?
What if you keep seeking what magic means?
This is a décima for Ronovan Writes’s current décima challenge: Gold.
A sailor sets out, brash and bold,
To venture into the unknown
Sea towards where his dreams have shown.
To find a treasure chest of gold.
His map is faded, brittle, old
Yet with great trust he starts to sail,
As nascent dawn makes the sky pale —
Adventure, not only gold, gleams:
Happy to be following dreams
Knowing that courage cannot fail.
This is a last-minute poem for Linda’s paint-chip poetry this week. It’s not really a narrative poem but uses 4 of the words.
If you have faith as a mustard seed,
Although it won’t be easy-peasy,
You can against all odds succeed.
Sky-high can reach a skyscraper,
From some metal and scaffolding,
Reality grown from a drawing on paper.
Maybe you can even, under mistletoe,
Receive a kiss one festive Christmas,
Meeting that kismet, standing on tiptoe.
This week’s décima challenge from Ronovan Writes is to use the word CHASE in one of the C rhyme spots.
A nightmare blooms inside my head
When I lie down to sleep tonight:
Subconscious seems prepared to fight
As into its strange realm I tread.
As body sleeps snug in my bed,
I’m trying to pick up my pace
To outrun what attempts to chase
Me, but as expected I’m caught.
Can I unlearn what has been taught,
To find a new dream to embrace?
