The Letter

                                       

                                                    to my grandfather

In my dreams, Chicago looks like Gotham City
with gray buildings towering over you.
People push past as you walk slowly
with your cardboard suitcase, pretending
that you are going somewhere.
Not long ago you were on a train.
Homebound.
How did you end up here instead?
In my dreams there is a hotel.
The lobby looks like the inside
of a cathedral.
You are very handsome
in your uniform.
Years go by and you can no longer remember
her smell.
In your letters you both pretend
that this arrangement
is temporary.
Yet, you know
how it is going to end.
You know I’ll be the one to find you
one day.
You know I’ll spend a night
in this hotel.
How could it be any other way?
You have chosen a room for me.
You have made sure that the bed is extra comfortable.
There will be fresh flowers on the nightstand.
In the drawer, your letter.

This is my NaPoWriMo Day 3 poem. I combined the Day 4 April PAD prompt (write a message poem) and the We Write Poems prompt 207. My grandfather spent the last 15 years of his life as a political refugee in Chicago. All I know about him during that time is that he worked as a concierge in a hotel (though probably not the Marriot). One day I am going to retrace his footsteps and find out what really happened to him. In the meantime, I am reinventing his history.

#NaPoWriMo2014

Morana

I am the cold.
People say I am evil
because my breath turns everything
into ice.
They fear my beauty
and the wolf that sleeps inside me.
I am Perun’s daughter,
my mother is the Sun.
I am born every winter
As the clock strikes midnight
And the New Year begins.
With me, my brother,
My husband, my only one.
Stolen from his cradle, he wanders
the underworld.
Forgetting who he is,
He seeks the warmth of the fire.
I wait.
He comes to me
in summer.
He never stays long.
The winter makes him restless
and he slithers underground
where it’s always hot.

This is my NaPoWriMo Day 2 poem. The prompt is mythology and the inspiration for this poem was one of the many versions of the Slavic myth of Morana, the goddess of winter. In this version, Morana's twin-brother and lover Jarilo marries her in summer, only to leave her and disappear underground in winter.

#NaPoWriMo2014

Not for Cowards

"Thank god there’s at least one thing we
can always agree on. Scars are left by
even the most delicate love."
from “DEAR CORPORATION,” by Adam Fell

Are you sure you want this?
Things have changed, you know.
You can’t leave a girl abandoned
in the forest
and expect things to be the same
a year later.
A lot can happen
to a girl
alone in the forest.
She has to do things
if she is to last.
Things you don’t talk about
in polite society.
A girl has to eat, for example.
I’d rather not go into details.
Your stomach was never too strong.
You say you still want to follow
wherever I decide to go.
Are you sure that is safe?
You will see things.
There will be nightmares.
You will have to do
whatever I tell you to do.
And what if you find out
you like it?
Don’t come crying to me
afterwards.
This forest is not
for cowards.

This is my 2014 NaPoWriMo Day 1 poem. I combined the NaPoWriMo Day 1 prompt, which was to use a quotation from Bibliomancy Oracle and the Day 1 April PAD challenge, which was to write a beginning poem. Hope I can keep up with the challenge for the whole month.

#NaPoWriMo2014

What She Saw

Photo Credit: Easa Shamih (iZZo) | P.h.o.t.o.g.r.a.p.h.y via Compfight cc

She looked at her own
reflection in his
sunglasses and she
liked what she
saw. Could he
see it
too? When he took them
off, she
could no longer see
herself in his
eyes.

2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge Day 5

That Doesn't Mean That He Is Dead

Photo Credit: rabbleradio via Compfight cc

...he [Aleksandar Tijanic] said, the fact that Mr. Curuvija lies in the ground ''does not mean that he is dead and that we are alive.'' Link 

He bared his arms
to prove that he was in remission.
We have his last interview,
but that doesn't mean that we are alive.
There will be no reruns.
History is written by creative people.
Are we living in a police state?
It will be worse next year.
They built their house
far from the crossroads.
We have got brains, it is important
that we get well organised.
They can't keep him quiet,
even now,
and we have his last interview,
but that doesn't mean that
we are alive.

2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge Day 2

It Appears

Photo Credit: Josh Kenzer via Compfight cc

The fortune cookie says:

"It is never too late. Just like it is never too early."

It appears

that it is never

on time.

This is my 2013 November PAD Chapbook Challenge Day 1 poem.

Just Playing

Photo Credit: miggslives via Compfight cc


Sorry about your wings.
It was nothing personal.
I was bored
and you were there.
That's all.

This was written in response to the Writer's Digest Wednesday Poetry Prompt 222.