1. Today I gave blood because someone didn't want to
Today I gave blood for the first time and my friends didn't stay but I like to feel old and mature. My heart spilled, was armed with want and from lungs the breath had stilled (but I felt only a sharp sting as the needle passed).
Today my lungs breathed and time was still as the needle and I passed like old friends and I didn't only feel mature, but had felt the blood spilled from my heart to arm, for I gave with a sharp want (but the first sting stayed).
Today my mature heart was stilled and I gave lungs and blood spilled (as from the arm) but the needle didn't sting for I had passed. My friends feel with time but only want the first to stay sharp like a breath and I felt old.
Today I gave blood because someone didn't want to
***** It's a phrase manipulation poem (again). I'm feeling rusty so you won't see me stepping too far out of my comfort zone for the first few days!
This one got personal. It didn't start out with that intention but I suppose if I ask myself what's important in my life right now, then this is it. And I knew I'd get to it, that's why I went with the title of my NaPo thread. But I didn't think I would get here quite so soon.
2. I don't have anything significant to say
I don't have anything significant to say. The news has headlines which will make you cry: A father killed his son for being gay but I think my dad would rather die.
The news has headlines which will make you cry: Swindon mother angry over medicine delay but I think my dad would rather die than have a fifty fifty chance he'd be okay.
Swindon mother angry over medicine delay, while my dad thinks trials are too hard to try. Than have a fifty fifty chance he'd be okay my dad will look the cancer in the eye.
While my dad thinks trials are too hard to try, a father killed his son for being gay. My dad will look the cancer in the eye; I don't have anything significant to say.
Today I am afraid to lose you, but I don't pick up the phone and call because we don't call just to talk because I'm afraid you'll hear my tears and know that's the reason.
Today I am afraid you're already gone, that I didn't take the time to get to know you because we don't call just to talk because I don't know how to start to make that a reason.
Today I am afraid to have you, and I know it's not about the phone call because we don't call just to talk because we shouldn't need to but now we do.
Written with my NaPo buddy @TahaT11n! We may still do some more editing but here's the first draft:
3.
The daffodils this year have come too soon, I wonder if they'll leave us faster too they make the view a nicer view to have but only while they last.
I would have things last longer than they do though not as long as me,i wish i could decay like this window wood- so easily but, life and it's craved lines on fate aren't so kind to me looks like they tend to go on more and more even though i don't want them to be stuck on me.
The grass is being cut by a younger man who might have been my boy but for the way he stands and the colour of his hair and his wrong eyes but when you've lost like me, the image lies - you see your loss carved deep, how everything extends; the strength of that oak tree, the individual strands of grass all bear a certain hint of his semblance.
But, it's not him, not the one I have cared with my life every breath every time,i passed for him now he has passed before me and what do i do? just sit on a wheelchair by a half-broken window and watch the tiny dusts gather and scatter then there's the glass, the world behind it now I can see colourful things lose colour too easily once one loses the colour of his eyes' apple.
then there lies a grave instead of a soft bed where my son lies and sleeps, but can he dream? now my open eyes watch awake dreams- me and him playing in the summers that are long gone and is there any wonder graves are grey when they take the colours of our lives away. woods are good,still they are too cruel locking my son in a lonely place
This needs work. It's vaguely going to be a double dactyl once I've had more sleep...
4. Bagamoon dragamoon newlyweds, bride and groom leave the duck pond to the singular fish
Characteristically two people coupled be- gin their own journey when ever they wish
I'm not sure how I feel about the flow over lines or the subject. This is probably attempt one of a million tries to write a poem for my sister's wedding.
I have the first line of tomorrow's poem though! I'll leave it here so I have it for later:
I'm just as tired as yesterday *grumbles* and apparently nothing rhymes with left.
I think I am forgetful since you're gone
I think I am forgetful since you're gone; you always read the mail and paid the bills I didn't used to leave the TV on
or neglect to lift the lid up on the john. I think I might have taken twice my pills. I think I am forgetful since you're gone,
I never feed the fish or mow the lawn I read the mail but haven't paid the bills. I didn't used to leave the TV on,
and people look at me with open scorn but I bought thirty of the pens you use! It seems I am forgetful since you're gone.
I think I might have left the front hob on and I'm not sure I've taken all my pills. I didn't used to leave the TV on,
I'm sure you'd find it lots of fun; I've left the stickers on my brand new shoes. I think I am forgetful since you're gone, I didn't used to leave the TV on.
Thanks guys xD Nothing was a slight exaggeration but I realised I needed 6 rhymes and I had bereft and potentially theft (there was no way I was using cleft) and maybe deft. So yeah... not happening.
Stop. Breathe in. Breathe out and count the hairline fractures in this paving stone, the dent where your first phone cracked into a jigsaw with only middle pieces.
You can barely see the mark but you remember and that's your lifeline, re-circuiting your eyes so that you can see the things we can't.
Stop. Be calm. Be right and let in the light, don't block it out. Turn around, touch the ground and ground yourself in the stagnant routine that leaves you in our childhood.
You can barely move forward for too much noise but we are your lifeline, moving forward so that you can stand still and let the world turn around your spectrum.
___________________
I don't know if I like the title. I don't know if that's a phrase I even like, especially when I think about my brother. Dad's illness has increased the stress levels at home and my brother had to move out so we're trying to find him somewhere to live.
7. It's the fall that kills you
If we could land and have the ground beneath our feet be somewhere we could stand, then we'd be fine.
If we could land on jagged cliffs, we'd have somewhere to get a grip, then we'd be fine.
If we could land in choppy waves we might not get rescued for some days but we'd be fine.
Instead we're falling and even if we had the maps, we couldn't chart a route or plan a way to climb back up, perhaps we'll get there but it's hard to understand the how or see the why or feel anything but the world rushing by.
________________
So this one's mostly thoughts but I think it might work in another style later. I like the theme and some of the ideas.
8. Attempt the second of a wedding poem (no this is not the title)
These vows you've made do not upgrade you; who displayed yourselves unreservedly at an early meeting. Today firstly we celebrate your first date. Relationships are complicated but notice when lovers kiss, each the other's accomplice, we create a mutual counterweight to obstacles navigated together. Rise, raise glasses, recognise love and utilise this moment for a toast to authorise this new bride and groom, already sanctified when they first loved.
Your poems are always so concrete, they have this delicious way of being centred and strong and I'm hella into them.
Spectrum really spoke to me, to be honest. I like the title, I like the phrase itself, because my mum always says that everyone is on the spectrum we're all just in different places on it (she works as a teacher's aide). I think you were clever in how you chose to evoke the stress (I find this most successful when using repetition) and the underlying sense of futility that you're fighting, and that you can actually beat.
I adore you forever, wifey and I love what you've been doing. <3
I like you as an enemy, but I love you as a friend.
This is technically poem 10 since I had a 2.2 earlier so...
10. The Things you Break that Break you
It might have been the way you raised your voice, an octave higher than my cholesterol bar, or the warm suds on my cold hands - perhaps I walked a step too far. It might have been a choice, half forgotten, nurtured in the moment when I looked through the muggy pane of glass and saw- and it slipped - and I only noticed when I heard the impact on the floor.
It might have been at fault, an imperfection on the day it was cast in its mould and left to set for dinner, maybe twice, or overnight. I don't recall the sold sign being written, only the salt thrown over one shoulder for good luck but did I do it right or was it left like the rice spilled over the stones and somewhere between ourself - and I cried and you lowered your voice and you said - there are other cups on the shelf.
I woke up with two stuffed cats - one chocolate, one marmalade, The paperboy (illegal) from down the road And a cold. Cooking by one. I must have got it from the filled tavern last night.
The last cat I stuffed woke - one cold from the road, two. Filled up with marmalade, down and paper from one illegal chocolate (I must have) a boy got it by the taverns one cooking night.
last night I woke up (one down) to the paperboy - cooked marmalade from stuffing, cats from the tavern, a cold chocolate. And one road filled with one illegal bygot. I must have the wit.
Blame @Meshugenah for this. It's what happens when we try to co-write...
Gender:
Points: 6235
Reviews: 2631