Ode To Sleeping

Today I attended the Free Writers on The Green Line workshop facilitated by poet extraordinaire Naomi Ayala. It was informative, enlightening, and fun; this is one of the pieces that came out of today's session...



You are a welcomed

companion on life’s journey;

if an ambulance was love,

you would be the gurney.

We meet at night,

we meet in the day;

we sometimes meet

after lunch when my

boss goes away.

We meet in bed,

we meet on the couch,

we meet on the train,

I miss my stop because of you,

but I don’t complain.

I miss phone calls

when we’re alone,

I took a plane trip to Cali,

we met over two different

two zones.

I think you’re awesome,

I can’t resist your charm;

I think we should get together

and murder the clock alarm. 





© 2015 abruvanamedsly



Flying Bed

Intent (30/30)

The final prompt for day thirty over at NaPoWriMo was to take a previously written poem and write it backwards, flipping the order of the lines from the last to the first. I’m using a poem I wrote back in January of 2014 entitled Meant To to accomplish this challenge...



I really meant to love her more,

but in reality,
I am genuinely sorry
for capturing our moments
unapologetically.

Her smile,
her aroma,
her flesh,
deciphered 

intricacies
squandered
while obsessing
over written memories.

Beneath her breast,
a thumping quasar
accompanied
the universe 

in her eyes
which
ink strokes
attempted to mirror.

Our dreams,
our uncertainties,
our happiness,
all immortalized effigies
lingering like
a sunset with no horizon;


every letter
a tragic beauty
delicately embraced.

She inspired me to write,
but more than her,
I foolishly loved words.




© 2015 abruvanamedsly


Ink


The Inevitable (29/30)




You occupy

crevices of 

thought residing

next to imagination 

and the inevitable.


You own sunsets

and live in 3am;

the dream is to 

swim inside your mind 

and surf on its thinking,

watching synapses become 

the texture of ancestral 

sand as fingers birth 

hallelujah from 

massaging neurons so 

radiant they restore youth.


Amazing how the

mind draws up fascination

with sentences strung

together with shards of

starlight and the future;


I climb inside your words and make myself home.





© 2015 abruvanamedsly




Butterflies


Burning Bridges (28/30)

The prompt for day twenty-eight over at NaPoWriMo was to write a poem about bridges.



It burns!

It burns!

Yells the bridge 

you’ve set ablaze;

ashes won’t hold your weight if you need to return across it.




© 2015 abruvanamedsly




Burning Bridge


Uprising (27/30)

The prompt for day twenty-seven over at NaPoWriMo was to write a variant on the haiku called a hay(na)ku, which is a poem that consists of a three-line stanza, where the first line has one word, the second line has two words, and the third line has three words.




Seal

is broken

on pressurized frustration.




© 2015 abruvanamedsly





Baptism (26/30)





The congregation lines up in the lake,

to rescue our souls we cannot wait,

because of my ignorance, I start to clown;

hey momma, does being saved mean we have to drown?





© 2015 abruvanamedsly






Speaking In Tongues (25/30)

The prompt for day twenty-five over at NaPoWriMo was to attempt a Clerihew. These are rhymed, humorous quatrains involving a specific person’s name...



Reverend Johnson stayed on his knees,

the women’s choir he aimed to please;

his gilded tongue gave them life,

until it was cut out by his wife.
 





© 2015 abruvanamedsly



Tongue


In Moments (24/30)



In
moments
where time
dissolves into
dust and dusk
crashes into 

dawn, the world 
seems to slide
between the concrete 

and abstract,
especially in the
bedroom;

walls
and floors
melt, the ceiling
transforms
into an ocean,
mattress,
a Spanish galleon
and lovers,
captors and slaves
sailing the high seas
of desire;

conjoined skin swimming
deep in the life
aquatic.





© 2015 abruvanamedsly



Passion


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