NaPoWriMo #30 - Free Day and Farewell

Burning

Every second of every day

is consumed by burning.

It's what people do,

something we all have in common.

We burn with passion,

anger, desire, regret.

Even our tears cannot

extinguish our burning.

We burn brightly

because we are temporary.

We burn everything we have

from the inside out,

then implode,

like a human super nova.

And then the burning is gone

leaving behind a cold husk

that's nothing like what we were

when we were still burning.

----

Notes: So, I couldn't think of any prompts that I had failed to write to that I wanted to write, so I decided to revisit the elemental prompt and take on a new element. I did water the first time, so I decided to tackle fire this time around.

Liar

I knew you were lying

the second I saw her,

watched you together:

clinging, disgusting,

like a pair of mating slugs.

It turned my stomach,

both the sight and

the sudden realization

that absolutely nothing

had changed.

----

Notes: I wanted to write on prompt, but today's prompt was related to headlines. I'm part of a journalism school, and I'm so sick of all things journalism related that I wanted nothing to do with today's prompt. So, this is my submission to NaPoWriMo #29, which is really just a second intuition poem, sans free write. I liked yesterday's poem, and my free write was intuition based, but the poem just wasn't.

NaPoWriMo #27 - Let Someone Else Take the Lead

For my dearly beloved,

Everything you could ask for and more

But not the thing you really want,

Really need...

Unnecessary things only

And things you don't want

Right when you don't need them...

You didn't actually expect more, did you?

----

Notes: February is my birth month. I chose it because it has so many things associated with it, and I didn't feel like writing an acrostic poem that was actually about myself.

I haven't written an acrostic poem since elementary school. They're not one of my favorites, but they're more interesting than I remember them being (and they accomplish the task of easing us into the final stretch quite nicely.... but let's not think about that. It's too sad).

NaPoWriMo #26 - Getting Scrappy

I'm not my brother's keeper

How many times must I let you break me

before I hold you at arms length?

How many times must I

allow you to hurt me?

Am I bad for wanting

you to just go away?

Don't get confused:

I do still love you.

That's an obligation

of being siblings

But it doesn't mean

I want you near.

You used me up.

My patience

is all gone.

There is

nothing

left.

Free write

Phrase: Am I my brother's keeper?

Oh, the irony. That it was said by Cain, when the Lord asked about his brother, Abel, whom he had killed. Siblings, anger, and the desire to kill all in one neat little package.

Do we deny association to deny guilt?

I don't. I deny association and refuse to be associated with him because I can't handle it. He tears me apart and destroys me. Every time I let him get close, I inevitably walk away bleeding. Lies do a lot more damage than blows, no matter how hard they might be. I've had enough of cowering in the corner and letting him walk all over me.

I am not my brother's keeper. It's not an easy thing to say. There's a part of me that wishes I was strong enough to grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him back onto the right path. To make him understand how much his lies hurt. It hurts me to admit I can't do it. I feel guilty for deserting him.

It's not that I've given up. Not quite. I just don't want to get hurt anymore. It's like a shield, that I'm reluctant to let down.

I am not my brother's keeper. It's not my responsibility.

I'm not my brother's keeper. I need to learn to let go.

-----

Notes: Earlier on today, I wrote a highly experimental piece, and I'm not sure how well it came out. I'm currently sitting in a lab waiting for a video to render, so I decided to write another. I really enjoyed the phrase prompt, and had started a second freewrite based on a second phrase. Here is the conclusion of that start.

NaPoWriMo #24 - Find a Phrase

the leopard

i wonder sometimes

how it felt to be trapped

trapped in his own skin

he could never escape

from his mistakes

from his past

from his spots

he had tattooed them on with ink

in a dusty cellar

before he knew better

before he understood

that they would never come off

or maybe someone else

tattooed them on him

while he was sleeping

maybe he didn't even know

it didnt matter

the world didnt care what happened

She didnt care what happened

he had spots

and that was that

he was stuck on a path

he hadnt chosen

and there was no way

to go back

he was a prisoner

in his own skin

Freewrite

Phrase: A leopard cannot change its spots.

This English proverb originated from the Bible, in the chapter of Jeremiah. It talks about how a sinner is no more capable of changing his ways than a leopard is capable of changing his spots. Are we all fated to be stuck? Stuck on some path, that we choose when we're young, before we know better? Is it really true that you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

A leopard cannot change its spots. No matter how hard he tries, he'll always be spotty and dirty and not good enough. I think leopards are beautiful, even if no one else does. Why would they ever WANT to change their spots?

Sometimes I think that beauty is found in the imperfections: the mole on the side of a supermodels face, or your tendency to flush bright red when you're embarrassed. Like watching you turn into a giant, angry tomato.

A leopard cannot change its spots. That's such a sad statement. I remember in Tarzan, when Jane's mother tells Tarzan that he's a spot and Jane is a stripe, and that no matter what Tarzan does, he'll always be a disgraceful spot. Thinking back on it, I guess that this was a reference to this proverb.

So some of us are spots, some of us are stripes and some of us have no pattern at all. I wonder which I am. Probably no pattern what so ever. I'm not chic enough to be a stripe, yet also not outlandish enough to be a spot. I guess I'm kind of boring, really. But that's okay. Like the proverb says, I cannot change what I am. Nor do I want to.

NaPoWriMo #23 - Unlikely Couples

A girl and her dolls

I think I've owned one or two,

I'm not sure because they never

made much of an impression on me.

I never liked girly things,

like playing dress up or putting on makeup,

unless it was forcing my brother to be my model,

but then it was fun for an entirely different reason.

I never played with them,

they sat in a net on my wall

collecting dust.

I used to pretend they were fishes

being hauled out of the ocean,

their cries of "help me, help me"

muffled by the absence of water

to fill their gills.

They were wholly uninteresting,

but sometimes I could transform them

into fishes or crocodiles or enemy soldiers

and battle them with my ruler-sword

(or gun, if I felt like playing in modern times,

for a change).

My playground was the world next door,

and really, who needs dolls there?

---

Notes: I had no idea what to write for this prompt, so I ended up writing about something I didn't like that I should, rather than the other way around. A twist on the prompt, but still applicable, methinks. X.x

NaPoWriMo #22 - A Wordle

Rust

Things eat at you

when you're left alone.

When there's no one else

to wipe away your tears

and they're left on your face

to fester, to rust.

Looking at me,

you might think I had freckles

across my cheeks

and beneath my eyes,

that I sat too long in the sun

without protection,

allowing my skin to burn

leaving a myriad of colored splotches

in the wake of its peeling.

Would you ever suspect

that I was rusting?

Right before your eyes,

every moment I get closer

and closer

to falling apart.

-----

Notes: Looking at today's wordle, "rust" was the one word that really stuck with me. So I based a poem around it. :)

Solar Eclipse

I remember you were a golden sun

with eyes that glistened bright like morning rain.

You were as wild as raging rivers run
once just as sweet and just as free of pain.

I remember I looked to you,

as adventurous sailors seek the stars
forever lost upon the ocean blue
or sitting drunk in weary seaside bars.

Now you have fallen, without any grace,
like a great bird with broken battered wings.
Your terrible, bloody, deceitful, face
now shows the plain and awful truth of things:
if you had really flown so very high,

the fall would certainly have made you die.

----

Notes: So, I wrote this sonnet a couple months ago. When I saw the today's NaPoWriMo prompt, I dug it up so that I could post it, because it suits the prompt perfectly. That being said, I did write a new hero poem (see below).

NaPoWriMo #20 - The Hero Poem

Storybook Hero

I plucked you from a storybook

complete with your plastic sword

and fearless stead -- a pony in truth,

but faithful nonetheless.

I prescribed you many traits:

courage, honesty, strength.

When I was scared,

I painted you with war paint

using my mother's eye-shadow.

When I was happy,

I polished your crown 'til it shone.

Until I closed the book

and looked You in the eyes.

NaPoWriMo #19 - Light bulb moments

Human

How many years did I live

under the impression that you were perfect?

A saint. No, an angel. Infallible and righteous.

I still think so, sometimes. Most of the time.

Unless I'm reminded otherwise.

It was a flash of unexpected anger

when your eyes, ever calm, teared up.

You didn't cry, but nearly.

It struck me

the moment the gale of your anger

reached my ears.

I don't remember the exact words,

but it sounded like

"I'm only human."

NaPoWriMo #18 - meow!

Well, I've kind of already written a cat poem, see Mittens, but I will do my best to write a second.

House cat

Sometimes he's all purrs,

sitting there in the sun

eyes closed, apparently relaxed

his thrashing tail the only sign

of impending mischief.

But it's over in a flash

and then he's a fluffy mass

of pounce, destroy and bite.

Wild, fierce, like his cousins

who must be fierce to survive.

Instinct, I guess.

But then he's tired,

and the only battle left to fight

is over which bed he should sleep on.

NaPoWriMo #10 - Celebrate!

The last two prompts have been really hard for me, and I haven't been in an especially poetic mood, so I hope this came out okay.

21

I'm an adult now

in the eyes of everyone.

The government finally

acknowledges my independence.

There is nothing I can't do,

no rights left to gain,

no barriers left to cross.

It seems kind of sad.

Something so cherished,

so anticipated,

passed almost uneventfully.

No fireworks,

no dancing in the streets,

just a quiet admission of age

on a day not so unlike

every other day.

NaPoWriMo #7 - Love, Funny Side Up

Our assignment for day 7 was to write a funny love tanka... for details on what this form entails, visit the Read Write Poem Website.

the night they met

a lewd comment overheard followed by a slap

a beer pitcher poured over his head in anger

another he stood by watching

impressed by her fire

their relationship began when he apologized

NaPoWriMo #1 - Shuffle a Poem

My songs:

I'm still here - Johnny Rzeznik

Tinkerbell - James Newton Howard

These Walls - Trapt

Lullaby - Orange Appeal

Butterfly - Corinne Bailey Rae

The last night

How long

have I sat behind these walls

in the castle you built me?

These walls

made of all the finest marble

and held together

with a mortar of lies.

How come I'm still here?

Do I imagine

that a brush of Tinkerbell's wings

or a lullaby

will be enough to set this right?

I'm foolish enough.

We both know that.

But even I acknowledge

that we'll never fly again:

we're a one-winged butterfly

and I'm the only one trying.