VSSPoem, Week 2

For the second week, here are my vsspoem prompts! I enjoyed some of them and was challenged by others. They always start off as short stories and then I remember they’re poems!

That silliness pretty much sums up my week. Got some stuff done around the house and off to get more done!

Hope you guys are all as productive as you want/need to be!

 

September 15th

The pen scrawled

Across the page

Black ink

Vibrant against

Stark white.

She smiled

As the words

Stumbled Into sentences

 

On the third page

She stopped

The smile now tears

Their spots marring

Her paragraphs

 

She signed in scribbles

And kissed the #letter

Goodbye

 

September 16th

The #Cry for Justice

is answered

with guns, knives,

all sorts of weapons.

 

And scarcely words.

 

The people take it

into their own

hands.

 

Because the scales

are

broken

and

untrusted.

 

How does this change?

 

When does this change?

 

 

September 17th

(Time zones sometimes screw with my ability to do prompts… Sorry!)

 

September 18th

My problems are #mountains

that stand tall

despite my

cries.

 

My worries are #mountains

fierce against wind

and rain

always.

 

My goals are #mountains

with no summit

to reach

soon.

 

My life is #mountainous

and they only seem larger

despite my steps towards the top.

 

September 19th

The grass was burdened with dew

Cool beneath her soft, bare feet

 

The sun had pulled back its blanket

Its rays of light there to meet

 

The world seemed to smile at her

Yet she crumbled with defeat

 

#Serenity was a thing of the past

It was never meant to last

 

September 20th

#Inertia does not rule my life.

I am constantly

knocked off course.

Change might be

my middle name.

No path to stick to

like some sort of glue.

Not me.

I’m bounced along

from spot to spot

Always thinking its right

But its not.

They tell me so.

#PicturePoetryPrompt: Gun Control

From North of the border,
I watch my American friends
suffer time and again.
A vicious cycle repeating.

Bullets fired from GUNS
are worth more than
LIVES
I hear again and again.

And yet there’s a growing chorus
Of voices.
Young
Old
Female
Male
Gay
Straight
Black
White.

They scream for CONTROL
United against a bigger threat.
They don’t want to hide
Afraid and alone
from angry people who take their rage
like tidal waves
and crash into innocents.

They want change.
Not to take all the GUNS away
But to restrict the types
Create stiffer rules.
What threat is this
to your freedoms,
My GUN owning friends?

They should be free
to feel SAFE
In a Grocery store
In a School
At a Concert
At a Hospital
At a Synagogue
At a Church

ANYWHERE.

But the NRA has friends
who view CONTROL
as an evil worse than plague
WHICH IT’S NOT.
When did your fellow Americans’ LIVES
come to mean so little?

I see this on my screens
In our papers.
As a Canadian,
I’m thankful for our GUN CONTROL.
I feel SAFE.
If only the change Americans need
would come on swift wings.
I wish you all could feel SAFE
On every day’s journeys.

You see,
I think no man, woman or child
should be afraid to leave their home
for fear of flying bullets
shot from vicious GUNS
hunting them down.

Clothing, My Cross To Bear

My clothing mocks me

Every time I put it on.

It whispers awful things

And makes me wish I was gone.

It hangs from my shoulders

Or hugs my flabby hips.

It tells me how fat I am

In harsh and hurtful quips.

My clothing mocks me

With its drab and ugly shapes.

I’m too big for nicer clothes

Always drawing eyes that gape.

Okay, that part might be a lie.

I keep my gaze on the ground

Afraid of their hateful stares

That judge every single pound.

In the end it’s my own sight

I wish to dodge in the mirror.

It rips me apart each time

Feeling me with dread and fear.

I wish to change,

Start down that path

But in my way

Are mocking laughs.

You see, it starts with my clothes

The ones I put on every day.

They judge me harshly

And they’re always in the way.

I wish I was skinny, healthy and free,

But I don’t know if that will ever be me.