NaPoWriMo Day 30 – Who knows? (and a question for my readers!)

I was Davey Jones today,

choking all the lies out their gullets,

not letting up until the reality came spewing out

across the conference room

to drip and slide down the bare whiteboard.

Progress at last.

 

Last Friday I was Fantine,

exposed to the whips of the world

I belted my soul to the vast expance

of the confines of my portable universe, lined with

leather interior and a $9 steering wheel cover.

The impact of metal on bumper and

rubber shatters the dream of her voice into

my far less miserable

pained reality.

But we are all fine for now,

 

because tomorrow I could be Wolverine,

collar up, chops fluffed and

ready for a fight against eternity

with no cares should the man in black

come to my door.

Entwine the forlorn threads of

the uncertain prospect before me with

cheap wine and cigar smoke in the wind,

 

so long as,

for a moment a day,

I can be some other than me.

Ah, what a vacation it is

and will be.

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I like to put myself in the world and mindset of a creative character, either my own or in these cases, well-known characters of some of my favorite stories. This is also my last poem for NaPoWriMo! So in celebration and in recognition of the Weekly Writing Challenge, I thought I’d see what kinds of things make your day exciting and entertaining! I’ll be writing a follow-up blog (as per my Weekly Writing Challenge instructions) on the results of the question below, depending on if I get any responses at all. Anonymity, just because I think if you want me to know what you chose and elaborate you can in the comments, and I’ll know who you are there. Hope you enjoyed the poetry this past month. More to come, I’m sure. Critique is always welcome and enjoy sharing your relaxation muses! Cheers!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What gets you through the daily hum drum?

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NaPoWriMo Day 29 – Maternal Domination

genuine appreciation

collides with contempt

as memory upon memory

rolls along the stimulation

that is the holiday

 

to a point

you’ve always been right

i’ve watched others fail in their attempts

to prove you wrong

a futile pursuit but i was the only one

who knew better

 

you made me this way

wise to your knowledge however

judgmental and biased it may be

took me under your

elephant wing and guided me

to an awareness far beyond the years

of an eight-year-old

and older

 

and yet you doubt yourself

through doubting me

being hurt by me

by my actions which no longer have any influence

from your acumen

i am not beyond you woman

but i am also not against you

 

the people who bring us a smile

the music that serenades our souls

the buildings which we run to for seclusion

and serenity

are no longer common venues for us

and never will be again

 

i declare it and for me this shall be

a divide acceptable and accepted

you will blame me

through yourself

torture yourself

to torture me

and your tactics will not work

 

i will still love you

respect your choices

your judgement

but i will not agree with them

nor you agree with mine

it is the rift of the generations we must all come to know

 

your maternal domination

is over mother

a new reign has come over my world

my own

and we will find each other one day

as equals to the throne

grown past the count of years

 

so til then do not

point fingers

shoot your blame to the stars

to no one

and be confident

bold

proud

 

you didn’t raise me perfect

but you raised me well

you didn’t raise yourself

but you raised me

someone unique and new

 

how perfect that can be

happy_mothers_day

Poetry Challenge – Missed You

A pure cleansing sweeps through my soul
as our weary wheels squeal along the coastal highway:
our second home.
Welcomed in, with eyes clouded
and heart hesitant to your freedoms,
you have nurtured my womanhood
summer to summer,
summoned myself out
and into a baby blue bikini.
There is nowhere that you can’t bring me to;
the midnight shimmer of the dock lights
is Egyptian gold
enlayed on onyx silk.
Kimono morning skies wrap
the pale geisha skin of the shores.
My breath has never been so strong;
not even the crisp English hills gave me
such composure, such a sense of
lasting peace.
Here, I find myself that I cannot know
anywhere else.
With those amberglow eyes by my side,
and your sands beneath my feet,
I am.

NaPoWriMo Day 26 – How You Embrace Me

The confident grip of the morning cicada’s legs
wrapped snug around my finger
on his journey from my bedroom
to the outside world once again.

My four-legged love’s trusting relaxation,
his grey, pepper head resting on my knee
as if there is nothing else in the universe
but this settled, comforting calm that is ours, only ours.

Knowing there is a fine line between the caress
of a light spring wind hailing the lifewater
and typhoon destruction sweeping the valley
or the shore; the bringer and taker of life.

I sacrifice a sense, encompass my soul in heart-
throbbing elation and belt my off chords
to the expanse of the cosmos, sending back
the passions given me as homage and thanks.

NaPoWriMo Day 25 – O, to Defy the Odds

O, to defy the odds and conquer all

the torturous ailments which divide

our souls, so apt to love. Yet we call

across the mountain-bound void

with the assumption that we haven’t tried

nearly hard enough to grasps our own

straws. How far must I hold out, confide

the ignorance of my heart and show

you my strength against myself. You’ve blown

through what I knew of myself, rapture

rips through veins; the destruction of the alone

world, my cocoon and prison. The sure

glint in your eyes from beyond empowers me

and with one last reach, our palms hold our keys.

 

 

A quick Spenserian Sonnet, because I wanted to get another poem out and I’ve been trying to expand my styles. I always like sonnets, and this is probably one of my favorites. It’s been a long time since I got into all the styles of sonnet. It amuses me how much I love sonnets considering my least favorite style of sonnet is the one we all grew up with: Shakespearean. For some reason they just don’t flow like the other styles do to me, but perhaps it’s just because I’m not much one for Shakespeare in general.

NaPoWriMo Day 24 – Plateau

The   f   o   g

too thick,

the CLIFF

unending,

dropping

                                 down

                                                             down

to a molten

core

and

g    a    s    e    o    u    s

empty

salvation

The naive imagery of a child going through what they now officially call a quarter-life crisis.