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.
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.
The bridge between two days is called “Today,”
The past and future merge when it is Now:
Although this moment cannot ever stay,
And in a blink will need to take a bow
Without an encore, let Hope allow
A smooth transition to the moments new.
A brand-new land waits barely out of view.
For FOWC: Inadequate, a butterfly cinquain:
Leaving
Piles of unread
Books, already dusty —
Inadequate time, even if
I live
Long life —
The curse of the bookworm: leaving
Many tomes unopened
Having not met
Purpose
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.
At the moment of death,
When life flashes before your eyes
And each event is seen —
What importance will it be,
What you’re so worried about now?
In life’s greatest overview,
What is more true and lasting than
Love? In faith: jump and trust.
I’m not exactly happy with this free-verse poem, but it works for FOWC: Overview.
But why must all the operations in life be performed without an anesthetic?
– Ernest Hemingway, To Have and Have Not (1937)
This poem is in response to FOWC: Keen, and it also uses yesterday’s word, Anonymous.
I’m keen to know the secrets of the heart,
The hidden and anonymous parts,
The mysterious maze-like corridors,
The core from which a person’s life pours.
I wish to know the web of paths which led
To this beautiful moment, and the bad
Happenings now past — impossible, it’s said.
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.
This poem was written for Linda Kruschke’s paint-chip poetry prompt this week. We can write in any form yet are supposed to use at least 10 of the 15 given words. Also for Writing Wednesday: Dehydrated.
I saw sunshine in your eyes,
A heavenly zest for life,
You were summertime,
Like watermelon eaten poolside,
Quenching the thirst of
My dehydrated mind.
I thought you saw
Clear skies, then
Out of the blue, what must
Have been a total eclipse,
Sudden, of your beautiful life.
