Reflections Of My Nightmare

Na/GloPoWriMo Day 21: Today’s  challenge write a poem that  incorporates wild, surreal images. Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.

It was my face, in the mirror looking back at me but it was smiling

and I was not I

could not to yell at it, I could  not to touch it I was

fading away my hand was turning to glass,  it was as light as  a desiccated leaf  and I was empty except for the

coldness that was creeping out of my ears, my eyes my breath all of it turning to frost

in the air but my face in the mirror was flushed, tan and smiling lifting it’s face to the sun in it’s world with a photo shopped smile

but I was not smiling and I thought if I could just move away from that image of me

the fake image of the fake me with the fake smile in the fake world I could feel warm again so I turned around

and there was another me, in another  mirror and it was smiling and I was

not.

Unpracticed

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Day Twenty of Na/GloPoWriMo

Write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken – not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play, but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life.

 

I keep my darkness

inside

unpracticed

but sometimes it dreams

of

what if…and so do I.

 

Sometimes

I dream of dancing bones

and cats running through graveyards

some of the time, I scream myself awake from that dream,

most of the time,  I don’t.

 

Sometimes I dream I have bouncy blond hair

and frosty blue eyes and I that I can

flip my IQ  on and off like a light switch

I always, always scream myself awake from that dream.

 

Sometimes we sit there

me and my darkness and

we wonder why we are so quiet,

in a world that gives you permission

to let your freak flag fly.

 

Maybe we need to be invited in, like Vampires

maybe- sometimes.

at least, that’s my story for now

and

I’m sticking to it.

Raggabrash

 

Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt#19:  The challenge is to write an abecedarian poem

Comic By Natalie Dee

 

Abracadabra I will amaze you

Behold I will dazzle you with

Crafty turns of phrases my

Deft use of the language

Everyone will gasp and shout “Bravo” and then

For your amusement with nothing up my sleeve I shall

Google words and run to Dictionary dot com and I will

Hijack  what I find  and put them down on this page

It will be magic it will be like I did it on purpose and

Just when you think I’m done PRESTO I shall present you with

Kaleidoscope of words, turning like wind chimes caught in the breeze

Lovely sounds that make pictures in the air, diving around your head like a

Murder of of crows

Never before have you seen such magic, such skill,

Over the top with the greatest of ease, I am the writer

Playing magician , playing poet from my magic hat I shall pull out

Quiet thoughts and quiet words that take you to another place that

Raced from my head

Screeched in delight

Try to catch us Anita try to make sense of us

Uh-oh Princess you missed us again it was a

Valiant effort horror writer, butcher of beauty maker of  monster infested dreams

We applauded your effort until we saw you hoist your flag and sail away on your

Xebec  with it’s skeleton crew

Yes I guess this was another fun  mess what fun and then I heard someone scream

Zounderkite you mock us! You don’t play fair!

 

Down At Last She Lies

Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt# 18 : Write an elegy of your own, one in which the abstraction of sadness is communicated not through abstract words, but physical detail. This may not be a “fun” prompt, but loss is one of the most universal and human experiences, and some of the world’s most moving art is an effort to understand and deal with it.

Vilhelm Hammershøi,

On a table next to her bed

three unread books

their spines turned towards the wall

on top of the books is box of Kleenex  stamped with birds and flowers

holding  them down, keeping them from running away, forgotten but not forgotten.

 

In the kitchen  behind a bag of flour

is a red box full of heart shaped chocolates

tied shut with a wilted silver ribbon

untasted , forgotten but not forgotten

 

Down in the basement piled inside of plastic crate with a light green lid

interred

behind bags of fertilizer,  rusted file cabinets and children’s bicycles

are

photograph albums full of smiling people,  sunshine, dogs and cats and Christmas trees

Forgotten.