NaPoWriMo Day 9 Prompt is a 9 line poem. I am using Magic 9
The winds of the world are gathering, inciting glee in the evils of old.
The lives of the innocent are forfeited daily.
Soulless men with shiny black eyes are harbingers of doom, most bold.
Mouths foam from gas as lungs deflate.
Sand painted blood red creates anguished wails just as in revelations foretold.
Rumors of war may not be rumors.
Are those the thundering hooves of the horsemen here to collect dark, empty souls?
Life has no value as rapists rape and murderers torture, all rather gaily.
Dark shadows loom over our world ringing bells in a cacophonous death toll.
Day 7 Prompt: a poem about luck and fortuitousness
I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered how it faired. Was in put there by a small boy hiding outdoors from his brother? Was it put there by a young girl infatuated with her lover? What secret does the acorn hold in its placement in my cup? Would I have to consult the ocean to bring me clarity? And why such a thing be suddenly linked to tea?
I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered how I could be so lucky. Was it the luck of finding money folded in a purse not used in many months? Was it the luck of finding a winning fortune in my Chinese fortune cookie? Was it the luck of seeing money falling out of the pocket of a girl in tight pants? Were her cheeks offering me money, knowing I needed tea?
I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered about love. Would it always be a one-sided mystery fraught with tears and disappointment? Did love begin like the small seed acorn and then grow strong into a tree? Would I ever find my soulmate? You know, the one just for me? Would I spend my life mourning lovers and forever crying in my tea?
I found an acorn in my teacup and I thought, “lucky me!” Love, light and fleeting, like a small bird in flight will find me. Love, true and binding, lasting through time and space will be mine. Love will tangle our hearts and lives together like the glistening spider web. We will spoon and cuddle, ever close, in the small, warm kitty bed.
I found an acorn in my teacup and I thought, “lucky me!” Someday my luck will change. My happy tears will fall like diamonds in the glimmering sea. Joy and laughter will fill the air, forever following me. I’ll be loved and warmly cherished. I’ll be invited in for tea.
Her cool briny fingers touched my face
while she kissed my lips with salty breezes.
I was her and she was me.
I am the sea.
From the depths of the abyss dry bones rattle.
Monstrous fish of the deep mouth them looking for scraps of flesh.
The sea makes a watery grave as it gives food to those living there.
Men frolic and play where they should not.
Their playground is my home.
We connect in violence, teeth and blood.
I’m usually the victor.
It’s my habitat, you see.
Shark and man can’t live together in the bath that is the sea.
When sea and wind bind angrily together,
They scheme to take the souls of men and
make matchsticks of their wooden vessels.
When sea and wind bind angrily together,
the perfect storm is formed.
I’m waiting for you.
I’m churning and angry.
I grab your ankles and rip your footing away.
I’m a joker.
I give you just one way to get away but first, you come with me.
I’ll let you go.
I’m the riptide of the sea.
Into the abyss
dark and deep is man’s lost soul
albino seas bloom.
The din of the world can be hard on the soul.
It confuses the mind with tangled thoughts and broken dreams.
Come to me and let my waves wash over you making all things grey.
Let my salt breezes cleanse your soul and quiet your mind.
In my wake is the clarity of sea worms and coral.
Shells and sand can scrub out the blemishes of a dark life.
Enter my depths and let the ebb and flow make tunnels under your feet.
Leave me then, quiet and still, thankful for the rabbles’ end.
I am the sea.
I am all things to some men.
Babies souls are a crapshoot, a mystery, a gamble.
The ding of life’s oven buzzer brings misery and misfortune.
Dark angels laugh and God lets evil run.
Rancid recipes are loose in the world.
They wait for the exact temperature to be ready.
Day 1 Prompt
Impossible thoughts come in the night and by the light of day they seem quizzical. I ask the universe and she says, “yes.” Action brings life to words best left in empty mind graves. Darkness and the dry ash of bones are blown away with the whisper of words on the wind. Unicorns leap and fart glitter rainbows. The impossible is suddenly possible. It is real and tangible. Seize the reigns and ride your dreams to the far side of the moon. Whisper loudly those impossible words to the wind.
It is that time again ….it is NaPoWriMo! This year I vow to do my best to participate most, if not all the days. This year has been a better year for creativity. I have been devoting more time each week to being creative. That is something I have not done in years past and have felt I have missed out on opportunities to do so. Writing, poetry, drawing, painting…I love it all.
How? When there seems to be no time for anything more, how can that be put into the schedule I have? Well, you have to take away from something else. I looked at my time and I have decided to basically give up tv watching to have more time to create. Yes, I miss all the shows I used to come home and watch but I get to create and I love that more. More time for creating and more time for reading.
It is working well so far. I have even gotten to the point where I do not miss the tv anymore. Maybe one of these days I will be independently wealthy, without the need to work and I can really devote time to leisure and be able to create all the time. That would be the life!
Circus Life #napowrimo Day 2
I lived at the circus as a little girl.
It was a circus of horrors.
In the fun house mirrors I saw others.
Dark faces with reddened eyes,
Scowls and pinched angry faces.
Smiles widened into a grimace that held laughter, loud and cruel.
I looked in the fun house mirror but it was never me.
Me, I could only see out of the corner of my eye,
in the lowest corner of the glass.
Small and scared but determined, was that face.
She did not appear often but she was hope.
Hope for the one day when those fun house mirrors would shatter
into a million silver shards.
The circus clown lived inside the fun house mirrors.
It drifted from dimension to dimension effortlessly.
It floated on fluid strands of gossamer evil,
unbreakable bonds that never tired.
Lashes of the dark tongue burnt grooves into my soul.
Lashes of the leather belt burnt welts into my wet skin.
My truths were considered lies with punishment swift and never missed.
Magical thinking kept insanity alive.
Oh, the fun we had on the circus rides.
The Ferris wheel twirled with speeds that made all a blur.
Whack-a-mole resulted in black and blue body puzzle pieces.
We ate cotton candy dreams and glass laced burgers.
Prizes were broken with precious memories shattered.
Sleep was fleeting.
The clown haunted us at night.
I lived at the circus as a little girl but I still hear the music now.
Tinny chords from the organ grinder come back to me in dreams.
Broken cries mixed with the sudden image of the fun house clown
flash before my closed eyes.
In the bright sunlight none of those thing exist and I see only me in my mirrors.
I don't look at the lowest corner of the mirror,
out of the corner of my eye.
I did that once and saw the face of the fun house clown.
It's waiting for that one chance to come back.
To come back into this world wielding a cloak of evil.