Water Under the Bridge?

For the final prompt in the Imaginary Garden, we are revisiting some of the best prompts throughout the years. I chose to write (again) to Sanaa’s prompt about water. 

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All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was.

– Toni Morrison

 

If all water has a perfect memory,

And my body is 75% water,

Is my memory 75% perfect,

And 25% unsure?

 

My memory, gaslit,

Is imperfect yet legitimate:

My body remembers

What the mind can’t fathom

In depths of horror.

 

Is it water under the bridge?

Is it running through 75%

Of the same rivulets,

Memory trying to be made pure?

Imagine

This is for “just one last word” on the Real Toads site. I tried to come up with something less stream-of-consciousness, but it didn’t happen, so here is my attempt. 🙂

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Imagine, sweetheart
Imagine
Imagine
The clocks walking
Backwards
Time halted
Imagine
The clocks // destroyed
Imagine
The eternal now

Letters

Far away from the sound of your voice,

I hear you speak amiably, looping handwriting.

 

You wax poetic about snowfall,

My plaid scarf does not provide warmth against loneliness.

 

Pristine white paper holds my response,

Hot chocolate attempts to warm these chilly fingers.

 

I address the plain white envelope,

Barely addressing the loss of the love I still feel.

Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

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A group of landai for Real Toads, also inspired by today’s FOWC: Address. This time of year is joyful and difficult at the same time. 

My Story

I wasn’t going to post my response to this prompt, but I kind of like the resulting stream-of-consciousness poem. We are using the following image as bits of inspiration. The picture is called My Story and is by Karina Llergo.

One book, flipping open across my spine,
Flapping facing backward, paper wings:
Another tome hovers like a hummingbird
Open away from my face.
What I have read is printed on
My body, this paper-thin skin,
As a magnifying glass scrutinizes
My hip. I have closed my eyes.
My legs are turning into rain,
With water-drops becoming red,
Becoming relief for a tree, becoming ink.
I write what I have read.
I give what I have lived.
But I plant one tree, one tree:
Growing a little more beauty.

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Update: I am sharing this with DVerse Open Link Night.

To Change

This prompt from Real Toads, Just One Word: Burnished, was difficult today, but here is my attempt. It’s good to try something I’m not necessarily used to. 

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Do not shrink from the friction or the fire,

To live unburnished is to lack a shine.

The fear is true, yet I am no liar,

It is worth the pain to metal refine,

And it’s the same with hearts and minds, listen —

The surfaces and inside will glisten

To change is hard but start — this is your sign.

Wolves

I wrote a cherita for this prompt on Real Toads about wolves. Follow the link to read the quote that inspired this. 

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People wonder why so many animals wander along the highways.

 

Deer, wolves, coyotes come close.

Some get run over by vehicles, and people wonder why.

 

The wolves, the animals are trying to find the forest.

Snow falls upon what was once their home,

And a wolf-mother howls for a missing cub.

Voice of the Future

I am a little too late for this prompt at DVerse, about telling a story through the senses, but here is my poem. It also fits with this (I think).

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She heard laughter.

Through the tears

She heard laughter.

She felt dreams solidifying.

She felt a smile

Curl her lips upwards.

She felt fingers

Clacking on a computer keyboard

Posting a poem

(Was she a writer?)

Sometime in the future.

The future wasn’t nothing.

She heard the voice

Of a poet, leader,

Whispering — encouraging.

 

Standing on Rock Bottom

This poem was inspired by these prompts: about the positive side of change and about astonishment and wonder.

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What she thought was the end of the world,

When she thought she was unlovable

Because she seemed unappreciated

By someone whose love she had wanted —

 

What she thought was rock bottom,

Was precisely the solid ground she needed

To stand at last on her own feet,

To rebuild, and find astonishment at the new life

She is leading, which she didn’t know she wanted.

Surreal

I walk on cloud, stumbling into pools of moonlight
And lakes of midnight, stars’ eyes
Creating an Argus in the sky —
Watch me in wonder as I wander

     a     a     r
m      l     d    o           y
i     l
t

To the banks of our galactic river —
“A land flowing with milk and honey.”

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I decided to post this and share it with Real Toads’s “Try Everything” prompt, since I rarely write something this “creatively” formatted. This is basically a stream-of-consciousness poem, written a few days ago, and I’m not quite sure where it came from. What does it mean to you?

Maladroit

For Real Toads. We are writing poems inspired by the word maladroit.

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Words are

Clumsy walkers

Whose destination is

Communication — difficult

To reach….