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Posts Tagged ‘Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’


by Tomasz

Beneath the Great Dipper,
‘bove highest clouds,
under a sea of stars.
On an Ocean of Tranquility
I sail with my broken heart.

I have no idea why I struggled so with this scribble… The photo, from MLMM by Tomasz, is amazing, and I had so many stories I wanted to tell, but in the end… There was this. I will enter it at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie for the Photo Challenge #107, and it will be my NaPoWriMo 2016 Day 5 offering as well. I hope you enjoyed!

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Image by Karin Gustafson from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

Powerful,
so invisible.
One of them –
not with them
apart from the herd – alone,
I’m invisible.

Invisible
white mane,
he roams free!
Wish I were him!
Powerful.

Not sure if this works, but I tried to combine two prompts while waiting for the official (but optional) NaPoWriMo prompt. I stole the meters (a shadorma – a 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable count, and an elfje – a 1/2/3/4/1 word count) from Mindlovemisery’s Managerie‘s B&P Shadorma and Beyond prompt, but focused the content on the equine prompt of  Imaginary Garden with Real Toads. I also borrowed the image, by the talented Karin Gustafson, from the Toads, focusing on the transparency of the horse.

I may write more (to the official prompt) later, but if not this is Day 2’s offering to NaPoWriMo 2016.

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Photo by CC Champagne 2015

Milky white shrouds of cold air
covering the sun
budding blossoms hide their heads.

Bursting through the clouds above
golden orb of warmth
come out, rise up, enjoy, grow!

Suddenly it’s all around
with blooms, large and small.
Rejoice my friends, spring is here!

So, I haven’t written in almost a year, and this is a feeble attempt at a spring haiku, inspired by the Heeding Haiku With Chèvrefeuille prompt over at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie. Obviously I will need some practise to shed those chains of rust that bind a hibernating poet, but National Poetry Writing Month 2016 (April) is just around the corner, and I will – again – attempt to rise to that challenge as well (30 poems in 30 days). Hang around and see how it goes…

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Meditation by Odilon Redon (from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie)

Forever I miss you, my one and true
as into the light you’ve gone from me.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

You rested safe in my arms as you grew
and I knew the man you would one day be.
Forever I miss you, my one and true.

In a world, old and ugly, you were new
with amazement in all you could see.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

On your tiny grave there are flowers blue
surrounded by the mightiest of trees.
Forever I miss you, my one and true.

Eternally broken, my life is through!
I’ll die on your grave where you’re next to me.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

There is no tomorrow, there’s no one who
will ever explain, ever make me see.
Forever I miss you, my one and true.
My words trickle ink that is just for you.

This was quickly scribbled, and there’s more that could be done to it, but I just wanted to get it out since I have other things I should be doing. It is supposed to be a Villanelle (four tercets and a quatrain in a AbA2/abA/abA2/abA/abAA2) and the inspiration comes from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and their B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond.

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We’re on the cusp of summer and spring is painting the trees with its’ special green brush strokes. Fragile and luminescent, a new season with all its’ colours stand before us. Tonight the fires of cleansing will be lit, burning away the sins of a long dark winter. When the ashes cool tomorrow a new generation will feel entitled to the world and a future they won’t think anyone else ever imagined. All hail to the young!

Me? Well, I’m old and tired. In quite a few ways I’m far less than a spent ink cartridge, only filling in half the letters on the page you’ve tried to print. The one you sigh at on a Friday and vow to have replaced by Monday. And I watch the world turning, once again…

Another year gone… Another thirty or so poems exorcised… Another lot of ‘crap, I didn’t get around to reading all of their poems today, will they still read mine?’ or ‘are we all not just going around in one big circle of patting each other on the back…?’. Another few days of ‘no, I can’t write anything today, I have nothing left to give!’ and a few ‘I just have to stop writing now and go to bed… But just one more!’.

The world is green with fresh leaves, with fresh wonders and annoying kids with their sense of entitlement, but the only promise I can make for the upcoming twelve months – as the choirs around the country are singing ‘The winter rushes down from our hillsides’ – is that I’ll try to enjoy the moments I have. And I’ll try to be here again, maybe even before next April?

I’ll try to stay alive. For some of us, that’s really all you can ask.

Hardly a poem, and as it’s not written to prompt I doubt many will read it, but that’s OK. It’s April 30 and the last day of NaPoWriMo 2015. It’s also Walpurgis Night in Sweden, and in about an hour bonfires will be lit to burn winter away in the tradition of spring and drunk teenagers. I have a few regrets over the past month. Poems I didn’t get to read. Poems I read and couldn’t get myself to comment on. Poems I outright didn’t like and the ever-present thought of ‘why can’t people just read what I write because they like it?’. And I shouldn’t have thought that.

I want to thank everyone who’s been around to read and comment over the past month, as well as the websites I’ve used for inspiration, mainly Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Magpie Tales, but also The Sunday Whirligig and of course NaPoWriMo. I don’t know if I’ll be back tomorrow or if I’ll be back next year. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back. But I want to thank all of those people who’ve actually spent time reading my scribbles and commenting. I’m sorry if I haven’t returned all the favours…

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Image from Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

What do we see, we tiny men,
when heaven-bound we gaze at night?
In stars that twinkle shining white
expelling light, time and again.

Are they not angels in the sky
colliding hearts in fireworks?
Is it not love to be disbursed?
Of angels hearts that meet up high?

When angels love a bell rings out
vibrates across the evening skies
and stars that twinkle become fires
The brush strokes of celestial art.

And here we stand, we tiny men
with science and astronomy
a world filled with hypocrisy
and empty hearts that no one mends.

I am, and have always been, terrible with meter… This is supposed to be iambic tetrameter in an envelope quatrain, as per Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and the Play it Again, Toads! #16, which asks us to revisit old form challenges. I was also inspired by Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie‘s Writing Prompt #10 – Rorschach Test Take 2. Since I’ve actually done what I was supposed to be doing today and therefore don’t have time to write to optional NaPoWriMo 2015 prompts, I will also add this as my Day 26 entry.

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(from Wikimedia Commons)

It wasn’t nothing
it was a lump.
A malignant growth.
An intruder.
It was quick – not without pain.
I’ll never know why.
A church funeral
Everyone was there.
And everything was pink.
Lilies, carnations and roses.
So many roses.
I don’t like roses anymore.
It wasn’t nothing,
it was cancer.

———————

Goodbye love
spread your wings to heaven
and soar free.
No more pain!
I wear my pink ribbon now
every single day.

(In April)
Your grave lies shrouded
with pink cherry blossoms.

Let me start out by saying I have been fortunate enough to not lose anyone to cancer. This scribble is a figment of my imagination, and I hope no one is offended in any way by me presuming to understand the pain.

Over at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, today’s prompt was Turning Pink, asking us to be inspired by the colour pink. When doing some research I stumbled upon breast cancer awareness’ pink ribbon… From there the poem evolved as I combined this premise (or attempted to) with Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie‘s prompt today, B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond – Cincuenta, which asks us to write a poem in only 50 words (a Cincuenta) or a Shadorma (3/5/3/3/7/5). I decided to do both.

Correction: A cincuenta is a poem in only 50 characters… This is not a cincuenta. The addition, marked in red, should be a cincuenta. The first line of this is optional (if characters mean spaces as well the two lines alone are 50 characters, if we don’t count spaces, then the addition of the first line should make 50).

Also making this my NaPoWriMo Day 25 entry, since I’m too exhausted to try to write something else now.

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