VSSPoem, Week 4

September 30th

A family gene

that jumped over her
#Charm
She couldn’t

Not with a filthy mouth

or dirty mind

Honesty in every word
She couldn’t

Not with a fearful heart

or dark soul

Her pain wishing to spill
Her family

#Charmed

Friends from foe

Neighbour

Stranger
But not her.

 

October 1st

My #identity is pasted on plastic cards

With a name

My height

My birth date

My address

But I am more

than a shitty picture

and basic details.

 

I have a voice

A face under my mask

 

Paper and Plastic

don’t define me.

 

October 2nd

#Trust is another thing

that rusts.

Breaks like a chain.

Nobody’s mistake.

 

October 3rd

This sword is sharp

Meant to cut

Render flesh

Into ribbons

Draw blood

With a jab

 

It’s thin

Like my #patience

Worn down

By quick words

And quicker stabs

 

Perhaps it’s best

I wield a wooden weapon

 

At least

Until I’ve proven

My #patience is stronger

My lips sealed

 

October 4th

Like a sun inside

The light fades

And #dims to darkness

Hides behind frowns

Forgets how

To even smile

She tries to rekindle

Reignite the flame

But the wick remains

Unburnt

The lighter flashes

To life yet drains away

And she remains

#dimmed

Very Short Stories, Week 24

I missed the weekend prompts for my posts this week so there a bit short. Hope you don’t mind!

 

September 24th

#Fire licked across the stacked logs, surrounded by placed brick. It grew until it crackled and sparked and its flames reached for the starry night sky. She sat with her husband on folding lawn chairs. No words passed between them as the heat warmed them.

 

September 25th

She wrapped the #sinew around the willow twigs that formed a circle. It required a soft touch and yet force was needed too. She continued until the web was formed, decorated with beads the colour of rainbows. As she kissed her son’s head that night, she hung the dream catcher

 

September 26th

Night #consumes the day and she readies herself. Dressed in black, she lifts herself onto the window sill. Its tracks bite into her palms and she drops when it’s time. The two-storey fall is quick and she lands with a thud, rolling for cover. She draws in a deep breath.

 

September 27th

 

Stars twinkle in distant #universes, lighting skies above alien life. Through telescopes, gazes meet but remain unaware. Life continues its circling dance. She dreams of unknown planets and longs to walk on foreign soil. Her imagination is a playground of planets.

 

September 28th

 

September 29th

 

September 30th

His bare feet were numb on the cold, wet road. The ragged clothes on his body were no shelter from the howling wind. There was no frown on this boy’s face. He wore a stubborn scowl like a shield and pressed forward. It was #inevitable in his mind that he’d find shelter.

VSSPoems, Week 3

September 21st

Everything decays

Rots away

To become #ruins

 

Glorified

As it dies

Living relics

 

Attractions

For the masses

Til its gone

 

The tragedy

And mystery

Of life

 

 

September 23rd

Tears wash the soul

Nourish the heart

Cleanse the dark

Like the #rain

We danced in

As children

Carefree

And naive

Life’s burdens

Yet on our shoulders

 

September 24th

I wish to #stitch

a stunning mask

to confound

and astonish

 

I wish to #stitch

a matching cloak

to keep secrets

and mystify

 

I wish to #stitch

a wonderful lie

to become my life

and satisfy

 

September 25th

Darkness was always there

Filling the air

in thick, rolling clouds.

The thunder was loud

after the flashes of lightning.

You would have thought it blinding

except it was familiar

even the shivers

it sent down your spine.

It was divine.

It was #Castlevania.

 

September 26th

My #luggage seems light

Laughable

I hide it away

Screaming internally

Can’t let them see

I’m vulnerable

Struggling

Gasping

Fighting my demons

 

What else is there to do?

My burdens are mine

Guilt is there

If I share

And so I lock them up

And battle myself.

 

September 27th

The waters still

Shimmer and shine

Beneath pale moon light

Her face is reflected

Ivory skin

Speckled by sunlight

Green eyes blossom

Like new buds

On a growing tree

Nature’s #mirror Is friendlier

Than a stranger’s gaze

She welcomes the image

Strong and powerful

BraveWrite, Week 3

September 19th

She fears its gentle hands have found her again. It whispers in her ear all the things she shouldn’t to hear. The truth long gone, her heart long since battered, she welcomes the cold. It hollows her out. Vacant of emotion. It’s too late when she names it. #Depression

 

September 20th

In the state of #jejune, we were all consumed by our fables. We were a unique center whose storms were unlike any other. The Gods aimed for us, small and insignificant though we KNEW different. But then our eyes opened. We wore others’ shoes and heeded our empathy.

 

September 21st

Their trunks, china cabinet, and every nook and cranny served as a #cache for their precious items. The house seemed willing to burst at the seams with their collections. It was a glorified storage unit filled with the sentimental. She worried it would go up in flames

 

September 22nd

The world is full of the #esoteric. It haunts the realms of math and science. It teases everyone. But it belongs to the artists most of all. The ones who draw, paint, compose and write for themselves, hoping some will understand. They bare their hearts for acceptance.

 

September 23rd

Wanna know what I think? she asked all of a sudden.

What? His eyebrows raised above a curious gaze.

I think life is a marinade in which we all #marinate. It’s experiences, people, and choices are all the spices we added, She smiled and nudged him, Don’t you think?

 

September 24th

The clock chimed #twelve in the middle of the night and summoned the witch from her workings. Her feet bounced down the stairs, jostling the book she held in her arms.

Ah, there it is, she said while flipping through the aged pages. Clearing her throat, she began to recite.

 

September 25th

The abyss was #tempting, as always. It called to her in seductive whispers. It threaded its fingers into hers, holding her hand, pulling. Her shoulders drooped in defeat and matched the dark bags under her eyes. The image in the mirror wasn’t her so why continue?

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.