This poem is inspired by FFFC #70, the image below:
They are gazing outside the train,
Outside the windowed metal bubble;
He wonders what is to be gained
By staying stuck; it may mean trouble
To leave may be terrifying.
But there remains a world outside
Inner fear might be decrying —
Fight it, flee fear, and cease to hide.
This is a Décima for this week’s challenge. It was also partially inspired by today’s Writers’ Pantry, to which I am linking. Also linked to FOWC: Ordinary.
There is some good worth fighting for,
Even if we don’t know what’s next
Watching video, reading text
Cause fears to multiply and pour.
Yet I know, in my deepest core,
Beauty in ordinary hours
Might be tiny, yet overpow’rs
Somehow, despite the hard struggle.
It’s the moments that make life full,
This is quite a time: It is ours.
For First-Line Friday today, our first line is “Do you hear the people sing?” I appreciate the allusion to the Les Misérables musical.
Do you hear the people sing,
Underneath the dreary
Miasma of these circumstances?
Do you hear us fighting
The fog of fear and depression?
Voices must rise, with music
To battle this oppression:
These are our voices, lucky
Enough to be breathing.
For this Wednesday’s Weekly Scribblings, we are writing about the idea of discipline. I’m not exactly happy with how this poem turned out, so let’s call it a rough draft. Maybe I’ll find the discipline to edit it later. 🙂
Painful in the moment
Is determined discipline:
Is it worth the perseverance
To keep going when
It seems better to quit?
The finish line — imagine
Exhilaration, crossing it!
I combined two prompts for this poem, Linda’s paint-chip poetry for the week and also Ronovan’s Décima challenge using “dream.” I hope this is good because I wrote 4 or 5 décimas in the past few days but didn’t feel confident sharing any of them.
Saxophone solo, smooth as dreams,
Piano keys accompany —
Both ebony and ivory —
Talent rare as saffron, it seems.
Courage in a lion heart gleams:
New life imbued into spirit,
Rocking the boat but fine with it,
The boat was sinking anyway.
A living spring will gush today:
Music shall play, songs not tacet.
For DVerse Poetics about portals. This has the rhyme scheme of a Chaucerian stanza but no consistent meter.
When God led the Israelites
Through the Red Sea,
It was a portal to new life
Out of slavery,
But not without difficulty —
Some doors are hurdles to get through,
Need keys to unlock wider view.
This is for Ronovan Writes’ décima challenge and FOWC: Practice. Also, I didn’t mean to make this poem so depressing, but sometimes one can’t help what one wants to write.
When life gives little healing balm,
When to escape I have an itch
And would give anything to switch,
I have to practice being calm.
There’s joy and pain inside each psalm.
I must believe that joy outweighs
Despair, and waits for a surprise,
Available to open eyes —
I’m ready for it to amaze,
But practice patience since pain stays.
This is written in response to Ronovan’s challenge and is partially inspired by FOWC: Express. This is for NaPoWriMo day 24.
Strong as the grave are love and hope:
May hope carry all to the end,
Holding weak hands as a God-send,
Saving maybe more lives than soap.
Beyond four walls widens the scope
With hope as faithful companion;
We see more loving expressions
Reaching out in ways we’re able,
Hope and friendship keeping stable.
At the end, let’s begin again.
Many thanks to Ronovan for the introduction to this poetry form and the accompanying challenge! I am also sharing this with the Writers’ Pantry. For NaPoWriMo day 19.
To thankfulness we dedicate,
Reminders needed quite often,
Remember goodness even when
Glad feelings prove hard to create.
We find in small things what is great :
We might have practice in the fall,
Yet it’s a skill needed for all
Days, weeks, and seasons in the year —
Especially when one’s prone to tears,
Though difficult — we heed the call.
This is for NaPoWriMo day 8, and it is actually on prompt! I think it also fits the Weekly Scribblings, but I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting to be inspired by Twitter feeds, but this quote from the Anne Carson Bot stuck with me:
“And for a moment the frailest leaves of life contained him in a widening happiness”
-Anne Carson
September came cold
His body fevered, chilled
The ghost of the wind
Rattled the bones of frail leaves,
Brittle brown coverings on trees’
Branches reaching toward grey sky,
Knowing heaven lies beyond the clouds.
He gazes through a window,
Following the trees’ leading,
He shivers, lips quiver
Upward in a slight smile,
Last breath rattles his bones
The ghost is loud.
