Tuesday, May 13, 2014

The Window

I am broken.
Where a stone hit many years ago,
a hole, a beginning of a sun.
Only three rays.
The bittersweet memory
of that one encounter.
I am not shattered.
The largest part of my body is unmarred,
except for that scar
on my belly.

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Going Home

It is Day 30 of NaPoWriMo. NaPoWriMo and April PAD offered very similar prompts today. It is a logical way to end the challenge, we are "going home". I'll be away for a couple of days, but when I come back, I'll write another post where I'll try to reflect on the experience. I am also looking forward to reading more poetry by other participants now that I have a bit more time. And let's keep writing.

By the way, I am very pleased with myself. Just like last year, I managed to post every single day and there are days when I wrote more than one poem. It was a great experience.

It is time to leave.
No point lingering in the forest
now that the party is over.
It is downhill from here and
I can see the village in the distance.
I am grateful to the night creatures
and to that pack of wolves that adopted me.
I will miss you all.
Now I have to go home.
Hopefully I will know how to behave
when I get there.
I'll have to remember
that I am supposed to be afraid
of the dark.
I will need a new hobby.
Knitting or gardening
might be a good choice.
I haven't looked at myself in the mirror
for a month,
but I am sure it's nothing
that can't be fixed
with an elegant dress and
some make-up.


He woke up one day.
He was bored and lonely.
He started talking
and saw it was good.
His words were poetry,
so he wrote them down.
He added a melody to his poem
and sang himself to sleep.
Later, he took a blank canvas
and drew a line.
He saw it was good,
so he drew another one.
He added some colour
and saw that was
even better.
Then he mashed everything
into a movie.
He thought it was a good idea
to add some people,
just to get things
going faster.
He released
perfumes into the air,
the dance of winds and rains,
shadow and light,
fire and ice,
then he added more colours
and more action.
He mashed it all together.
He saw it was good
and decided
that was
what he wanted to keep doing
until the end of time.

It is Day 29 of NaPoWriMo. Today I used the April PAD prompt

Monday, April 28, 2014

I Wouldn't Have Settled for Anything Less

                                     Photo Credit: visualpanic via Compfight cc

Tight-rope walking
can become routine
if you practice every day.
There is comfort in
the familiar movements,
the wind on your face
the view.
The perfect balance
and the walk
from point A
to point B.
You see the whole picture
and you are grateful
for that moment
of complete stillness
when nothing is happening.
It is OK to
look back
and enjoy the memories.
Try not to think too much
about the future.
Spread your arms wide
and be completely still.
The beauty of repetition.
The same jokes,
still funny after all those years,
the crazy belief
that nothing will ever change.
Call us lucky,
but I wouldn't have settled
for anything less.

                                    Photo Credit: visualpanic via Compfight cc

It is Day 28 of NaPoWriMo. When I publish this, I will have only two more poems to write. That makes me sad, though I am really, really tired and I need more sleep. This is a love poem. I used the Day 28 April PAD prompt, which was to write a settled poem..

Sunday, April 27, 2014

The Locked Door

                                     Photo Credit: Fortimbras via Compfight cc

The door is locked and
there is no way to get in.
Still, I can hear her.
She whispers.
I sneak out every night,
pen and paper in my hand.
I listen for hours.
She scares me, of course.
The night air is cold on my skin
and I am so sleepy.
But it is worth it.
She gives me what I want,
every time,
and I pretend that I love her
just the way she is.

                                                Photo Credit: Pensiero via Compfight cc

It is Day 27 of NaPoWriMo. Today I used the Day 27 April PAD prompt, which was to write a monster poem. It seemed appropriate. After yesterday's binge writing, I feel I must be possessed.

Saturday, April 26, 2014

Three Water Poems

                                   Photo Credit: Broo_am (Andy B) via Compfight cc

The Floods

The floods changed everything.
They weakened our willpower.
They erased our memory.
They watered us down.
They entered our homes and left their
invisible fingertips everywhere.
We woke up the next day believing
we knew who we were,
but the landscape had changed overnight,
things were not where we had placed them.
Our field was gone and the river
had taken over.
Our world was there but
it didn't belong to us.

                                            Photo Credit: Adventures with my dogs via Compfight cc

The Scandal

I never knew you had it in you, girl.
You always looked so calm and controlled.
A modest little thing, a virgin river,
home to lazy snakes.
People were talking, but I
don't believe in gossip.
I had to see it for myself, how you
broke the dams and flooded the fields and
left us stranded on a hill.

Photo Credit: rogersmj via Compfight

Water into Wine

It was a warm summer evening
we were having dinner
there were a lot of people at our table.
We all listened to you,
though you didn't speak much.
You were handsome, in an ordinary way.
Later I couldn't recall your face,
though I tried.
I couldn't even describe you.
An ordinary face, though handsome.
We were drinking your wine and it was good.
I had never tasted better wine in my life.
I was so happy that I could just sit there and
look at you.
I knew you would eventually have to go.
I couldn't expect you to just
stay with us forever.
That would have been selfish.
It was strange to see how sorry you were to leave.
You said you'd had such a great time with us,
and I could see you meant it.
You never lie.
You said our stories were interesting
and we were lucky because
time passed so slowly in our world.
Our year, you said, would be
just a second in Heaven.
You couldn't promise that you'd visit
any time soon.
But you left the wine.
You could always make more, you said,
hadn't I read the story?
Do come again.
Nights are getting warmer and
we can sit outside.
We will slow the time for you and
let you have some rest.

                                     Photo Credit: Ian Sane via Compfight cc

It is Day 26 in NaPoWriMo. Today I used the April PAD prompt, which was to write a water poem. Something scary happened and I went binge writing and wrote three very different poems. We are having floods in Serbia at the moment, which reminded me of how I witnessed a flood once. As for the last poem... I am rereading the Brothers Karamazov and Dostoevsky is messing up with my brain. The poem itself accurately describes a dream I had several years ago. It was one of those dreams you never forget.

Friday, April 25, 2014

The Sorceress

                                             Photo Credit: Sand Creation via Compfight cc

She is a sorceress.
She comes to you at night.
She touches your eyelids and calls your name.
She stands before you in her beauty.
She shows you her face, which
few have seen.
Gently, she scoops you up and carries you in her arms.
You go places.
She shows you everything.
Suddenly, you know.
You understand.
All night she sings to you
songs so beautiful you want to cry.
In your dream, she provides a pen
and a notebook.
She lets you write it all down.
She tells you that you have been chosen,
that your life has a purpose,
and your poetry is divine.
At dawn, she takes you back
and promises to return.
You wake up.
You search for the notebook, but it isn't there.
You try to remember the songs she taught you,
but they are gone too.
You sit at your desk, all day, trying to write
divine poetry.
Your words come back, lame and hollow.
You wait for her that night
and many more.
She never returns.
And now you will never know for sure
if this is the real purpose
of your life.

                                           Photo Credit: Sand Creation via Compfight cc

It is Day 24 of NaPoWriMo and the inspiration just wouldn't come. I almost gave up. Luckily, you can always write about how you can't write.