The moon is new, and so the sky is dark.
The stars are shining someplace but not here.
The difference ‘twixt Now and Then is stark,
For nighttime’s Guide is gone, and there’s the fear
Of what comes next, no, even what is Now —
Rewriting of the story not allowed.
Shared with DVerse OLN because I wanted to post a poem today, short though it is.
Today’s installment for Flashback Friday. Although I have a vast collection of poems from the past 6 or 8 or more years, I am choosing one that I posted before, exactly 3 years ago. This poem was for FFFC #24 (wow, that was a while ago!) and was called “Atlas.”
An atlas is open, made of paper --
A man points with index fingers
Attached to weathered hands: “Here.”
I post this from a smartphone —
Atlas carries the changing Earth
Does that place exist anymore?
We envy the hourglass,
Eschew the ruler, but
Fear the apple and pear.
Why do we insist on classification,
And idolization of passing things?
I am not a fruit
Nor a measurement implement
Nor even a timepiece --
I think what we want, really,
Is for that hourglass
To turn itself upside-down.
Image found on image search Illustration just in case you are a man and/or don’t know what I’m talking about then I refer to pears, apples, etc.
This is another poem I’m nervous about posting. I’m really not as vain as this might make me sound. A lot of people think eating disorders are about vanity. They’re not. They’re more about control and trying to find a way to feel good about oneself. The media and beauty ideals are a contributing factor, but I had the perfect set of personality traits and life experiences to be susceptible to the media’s messaging. If I had any shred of self-esteem or self-worth back then, I wouldn’t have felt the need to change what I looked like. Plus, once I started, I couldn’t stop because of A. people’s compliments, which I craved like a drug, and B. the realization that starving calmed my anxiety. You do it enough, it literally makes you feel high.
I didn’t mean to write so much about what causes eating disorders (it frustrates me that a lot of people blame just the media and photoshop), but there you go.
I am on the fence about whether to share this one or not. It’s a décima. I’m not sure if it’s “good,” but it’s the best poem I’ve got for today. I wrote it yesterday and wanted to post more than a meme today. The situation this poem is about is very complicated… Also, I realized belatedly that this poem fits with the theme of Brian’s prompt about insecurity, so I am linking up. However, I intend to share another one tomorrow, since this only coincidentally has to do with feeling insecure.
The time will never be just right
To make a necessary change:
It will always feel a bit strange,
Walking with only a dim light.
When fear arises, know life might
Get better on the other side,
Fear weakens when it is defied.
There is a sorely-needed leap
For one to take, and must not keep
Putting it off, so terrified.
The theme of this week’s sijo challenge, for which I am once again posting at the last minute, is regrets. I had a TON of ideas this morning and then didn’t finish any until after work. I’ve finished 4 as of this writing and am really hoping to finish at least 1 or 2 more. That would be conducive to a satisfying evening!
Is regretting wise? Careful not to redo too many ripples.
There is perhaps one situation, but if one were to erase it,
Where would be the wintertime, among cycle of seasons?
Another poem before the end of the night, a butterfly or mirror cinquain for Brian’s prompt on the theme of wasted time. Sleep is important, but when I’m really depressed, I don’t really like to do very much so sometimes want to sleep for hours during the day. I have not felt like this since 2 weeks or so ago. 😀
Wanting a time machine
Or a chance for starting over,
I wait —
Not to waste more time with closed eyes,
Today I’ve already
Napped enough, please
For DVerse’s Haibun Monday, for which the theme is the summer or winter (depending on which side of the equator you live on) solstice.I’m happy to write for this. 🙂
Will the sun stand still? I'm not ready for the days to start shortening, gradual as is may be. It's scary because I want to stay happy. This past week has been a medical miracle, a blessing, and/or a stroke of luck; but like the solstice it may only be brief. Mood, like time, moves like the waves at the beaches -- which I might like to visit soon.
walking -- grains of sand
Even though Ronovan Writes no longer hosts a décima challenge, from time to time I still like to write in that form. Today I used “future” as my jumping-off point, and the MVB and FOWC one-word prompts helped to inspire the rest of the poem.
It turns out that this is only tangentially related to “future” — this is the future that doing all that stuff in high school was supposed to prepare me for and make better. For a long time, I’ve felt like I’ve wasted all of that, and what I hadn’t wasted all by myself was stolen from me. 😦 😦 😦 But maybe that wasn’t wasted. Lou’s comment on my sijo made me rethink, just a bit. I’d never actually thought, “Maybe it wasn’t wasted!”
I write all that as a way of saying, I didn’t have to force this somewhat-optimistic ending today.
My academic achievements Could not prepare me for real Difficulty, nor help to heal, For the pain of waste is intense.
Did that hard work have recompense? Not in the way one likely guessed But it was wise to do my best. A certain success foreshadowed, But forced down a different road, Worked hard to pass another test.
I liked calculus and was pretty good at it — but I always hated real-life change.
Brian’s prompt for this week, which I didn’t even look at until this morning, is “Fleeting Beauty,” as you could guess from the title. 🙂 He suggests the haiku form for this topic (which works in my favor because I was short on time). I do agree that a brief, often nature-based form like the haiku is effective for this theme.
I took it in a different direction, though, since I’ve been at work a lot and am getting inspiration from the lovely, delicious, ephemeral, consumable works of Italian-ice-and-frozen-custard art! Without any further ado, here is:
Chocolate custard tops
Birthday cake ice, with sprinkles
Melts soon in the sun
If I want to look deeper into this poem, I could say that the “birthday cake ice” represents the passage of time, years going by as someone gets older. Although I probably am about to have another mid-life crisis, all it really “represents” is what I ate this afternoon. XD