Grit

April 21, 2013 § Leave a comment

I am really behind on NaPoWriMo. This is not NaPoWriMo. Have it anyway.

My tiny fistful of glitter,
My only weapon against their fistfuls of grit
I used to have grit of my own
But it grazed my palm,
Made me bleed.

You’re still clutching grit.
At night I pick out the bits that have become embedded under your skin
And wash off the blood
I wish you’d carry something else
Stop hurting yourself

Scrap 01

April 17, 2013 § Leave a comment

Sometimes I feel
Someone has stolen
The finer words in my vocabulary
When I look at you

Because suddenly
None of the ones I have
Are sufficient

NaPoWriMo – Day 16

April 16, 2013 § Leave a comment

The prompt today was to take a poem in a language different to your own and make a new one based on what the words reminded you of. It’s kind of hard to explain, but you can read about it on the NaPo website. Mine is based on Charles Baudelaire’s “Harmonie du soir”.

The idea I suppose is that it doesn’t make much sense, but it sounds nice.

Voice veneered, tempered like soup, vibrant like tiger.
Cheap flowers evaporate, antiquated, insincere.
The sons and their partners turn, an air of suaveness,
False melancholy and long lived fatigue.

Cheap flowers evaporate, antiquated, insincere.
The violin emits; come closer, come, my liege,
False melancholy and long lived fatigue
They seal the twist and beckon ungrand response.

The violin emits; come closer, come, my liege,
A coercion quite neat, vast as night,
Then seal the twist and beckon ungrand response.
The ill soul nods a song and sank with the fish.

A coercion quite neat, vast as night,
Does pass illumination, recoiled with prestige.
The ill soul nods a song and sank with the fish,
Ten souvenirs of my light come on at once.

Annual Rebirth of Us

April 16, 2013 § Leave a comment

I want to toast your skin in the spring sun
And stain your fingertips green with grass
The yellow green of early spring

I want to make you a diadem of daisies
And crown you sovereign of new life
Because today we emerge, together, from our winter caves

You should always be in the sun
That’s when you look most like you

It’s today
Everything is alive again
Especially us

NaPoWriMo – Day 15

April 15, 2013 § Leave a comment

There are seventeen tall buildings in the blue,
And each one is tiny next to you.
I’m happy, lying here, listening to this song,
Grinning, hanging upside down, like a drugged up bat.

You’re happy and it’s so freeing,
I can be ecstatic and you bet I am.
There’s a bright red hat by my window,
Against the bright blue sky in the sun.

This is the weather for people who grin,
And pretty girls in sunglasses with dip dyed hair.
If you were here I’d dance with you,
And we’d be so happy we sobbed.

NaPoWriMo – Day 14

April 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

Today’s prompt kinda threw me because I don’t know that much about super heroes, and writing a poem from the point of view of one seemed kinda stupid but then I reread the prompt and started thinking more about the things superheroes represent.

With that in mind, this poem is from the point of view of the Hulk, although it’s more about seething and uncontrollable anger of a normal person.

It’s a build up.
Short.
Sharp.

It’s hot.
I’m hot.
It’s fucking boiling in here.
Jesus why is it so fucking fuck hot.

You’re there.
Move or I’ll hurt you.
Move.

My face itches.
It won’t stop.
I’m scratching it.
More.
More
Harder
Faster

I said move.
Move.
For fuck’s sake please.

Somewhere quiet
Away

Find a wall.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Rhythmic Thump.
Thump.
Erratic THUMPTHUMP
THUMPTHUMPTHUMP.

THUMP

Blood.
Good.
Pain.
Good.

Not enough though.
THUMPTHUMP
Thump

NaPoWriMo – Day 13

April 14, 2013 § Leave a comment

Ok so this at least twenty four hours late and not good enough to justify that, but I have to do today’s prompt as well and I am completely exhausted.
I wonder if I’ll ever start one of these without an excuse or an apology. Here goes anyway.

The sharp wind blows
New thoughts into
My empty head

While rustling leaves
On swaying trees
Stretch out ahead

I oft’n follow
The path they mark
But not today

Today’s the day
That I shall try
A different way

I wander through
An open gate
Into a field

I wonder what
Creative thoughts
This walk will yield

The field is filled
Wit yellow flowers
On long greens stems

I try to think
Of a good way
To describe them

All I can think
Is that they look
Like lemon drops

They really don’t
I pick a few
And wander off

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