Wish you were here

 

Wish you were here

Wish you were here,

inside my head.

We could sit on the bench

and stare at the lake

and feed the koi fish.

GloPoWriMo Day 7 - a postcard

Declutter

 

Declutter

You need to take those boxes out first, throw them all away. 

Declutter your life. 

No furniture, four empty walls. 

Silence the inner critic.

Empty your mind, 

carry your thoughts out of the room. 

Then just sit in silence. 

Just wait for your Muse to show up.

Then write it all down, no censorship.

You might need to pop out first, to buy yourself a pen,

and a piece of paper, and a desk.

Also, a chair to sit on

while you create your masterpiece.

GloPoWriMo Day 6

They said on time

 

They said on time

Time is an illusion, said the hourglass. Nothing ever changes, the sand never runs out. There is no yesterday, no tomorrow. Just the endless flipping about.

Time leaves its traces on everything, said the mirror. You are a reflection of who you were yesterday, but your image is never the same. For all we know, sand might be seeping through that tiny crack in your side as we speak. 

That doesn’t prove anything, the hourglass said. I don't believe in a dynamic aspect of time. For me, time doesn’t pass and I don’t believe I have a crack in my side.

The cat jumped up from where she was sleeping and knocked the hourglass off the shelf. The hourglass broke into a thousand little pieces.

The passage of time is a real and mind-independent phenomenon, she said.

Then she went back to her spot by the fire and immediately fell back to sleep.

GloPoWriMo Day 5

Living “Stars” in Caves

 

Living “Stars” in Caves

An underground river,

a brightly lit heavenly dome

a cavern full of stars,

like a palace with a thousand lights,

each one a pair of eyes and a greedy mouth.

As moths to a lamp, they fly to the light.

A thousand hungry mouths come to life

until the prey is no more.

The river underneath is warm and still.

If you want to see them for yourself,

you must enter the caves in silence,

lest they sense the danger and extinguish their lights.

GloPoWriMo Day 4 - The strangest things in the world

Inspired by Living "Stars" in Caves

The Water Fairy

 

The Water Fairy

Finally, one night, she came with the flood. Fingers scraping against the wall, she pushed her head in and looked at me. What shall we do with the wall, I asked. Who is going to mend it now? She said nothing. The water kept dripping from the ceiling, seeping through the walls, a steady clank, clank, clank against the coffee-table. The neighbour must have forgotten to close the tap again. She had big indifferent fish eyes. She was not at all what I had imagined her to be. Do you eat fish, I asked, and are you a fish yourself. She still said nothing. Water was oozing down her face and hair. There was a puddle around where she stood. It was bound to leave a stain on the parquet. And then she spoke.

“Let me show you my sunken city”, she said.

GloPoWriMo Day 3 - a surreal prose poem

To my Coffee Mug

 

To my Coffee Mug

Do you remember how you used to wake me up,

your bitter kiss on my lips,

making no promises about the day ahead?

And there was that one time 

I decided to become a photographer,

so I took pictures of you,

then ran them through different filters.

Finally, I made you the star of a short film

and there was even a modern poem

all about you.

The camera got stolen the next summer.

The digital art is still online, I guess.

The Internet remembers.

And then there was that time I chipped you, 

then refused to throw you away?

You haven’t changed much since then.

And I don’t know why,

but I don’t use you at all now.

I can’t tell if you feel the same indifference.

GloPoWriMo Day 2 - a platonic love poem

Spoiler Alert!

 

Spoiler Alert!

 

It is that book

in which the actor did it

And, when they catch him up, he says:

“Curse be upon you”, or something like that.

And Poirot is retired. And he is bored and he does gardening,

or is that really the same book?

And Miss Marple sees a murder from her train window.

Which can’t be right, she never put the two of them together.

And Miss Marple never witnessed a murder, did she?

But they are both great, and then there is that one

About a beautiful house and the murderer is telling the story.

And you really believe him.

I hope I haven’t spoiled it for you.

There is that one with cyanide.

Actually more than one, I believe.

And the one where everybody dies, including the killer.

And the one where everyone is the killer.

I love that one.

You really have to read those books.

I am sorry I have forgotten the names.

All I remember is who did it

in each and every one of them.

I hope that helps.

GloPoWriMo Day 1