The prompt for day seventeen over at NaPoWriMo was to take elements from your social media life and make a poem out of them…I chose to take some of my old facebook status updates and add hashtags to them… The time will come when you let go of all fear, doubt and uncertainty concerning your life's true passion; it will either be the most liberating day of your existence or you'll be too dead to give a shyt #followyourpassion
Ink is my life's blood; I bleed on pages nightly. In the daytime, I become anemic. #vampirepoet
I am a stranger in a strange land searching for a normalcy that doesn't exist; 3am chronicles my exploits and holds all my secrets. #insomniaswhore
It sometimes aches remembering the way her body wrapped around mine; mostly at 4am when the ghost of us haunts cold bed sheets… #sleepingalone
Is there a rest home for unwritten words and thoughts that didn't have the courage to become poems? If such a place exist, I need to make a sojourn to it and reminisce with the lines and stanzas that almost made it #visitingunfinishedpoems
When the greatness in you makes its debut, it will shock everyone...even yourself #surprisepotential
We crawled into each others lives and learned how to walk together under the sun; unfortunately you couldn't help me fly...I had to learn how after you pushed me off a cliff #invisiblewings
We danced on the edge of frigidness searching for warmth that never came; permanent icicles daydreaming about an invisible summer. #imaginarysky
The one thing about life that is certain...nobody makes it outta here alive #iftheresahellbelow
The prompt for day sixteen over at NaPoWriMo was to write a terzanelle, which is a combination of a villanelle and terza rima. Form poetry...oh what fun! Her kiss burned down my bones, setting fire to lips and skin, ashes turning into a love jones. Her glance, a piercing sin; eyes the color of sun and coal, setting fire to lips and skin. My spirit she has stole, becoming my secret salvation; eyes the color of sun and coal. Between her legs lies damnation; perdition has the sweetest taste, becoming my secret salvation. Limbs freeze; time becomes chaste, trapped in her scorching flame; perdition has the sweetest taste. My curiosity is to blame, her kiss burned down my bones, trapped in her scorching flame, ashes turning into a love jones.
The prompt for day fifteen over at NaPoWriMo (woohoo the halfway point!) was to write a poem that addresses itself or some aspect of its self... You steal sleep and hijack thoughts; always the center of attention, you're a mistress, a mystery, misery. You impregnate blank pages, sometimes abandoning lines in their infancy; you are prayers reincarnated as ink, moonlight searching for a home, words seeking immortality,
deep sighs splattered
upon a broken canvas. I try escaping you but you hunt me down like a jilted lover not ready to end the romance; I secretly enjoy the chase.
Her eyes were the color of ice and sapphire, telling the story of a thousand lonely blizzards. Her crown made of crystal and starlight reflected a sacred truth few could ever fathom; a throne devoid of warmth is indeed a cold place to be.
Because of years of mistaking candy for one of the four food groups, I have teeth that need to be pulled. I'm reluctant to see a dentist because I've become accustomed to the pain; sharp stabbing lighting that strikes at any given moment, electrifying nerve endings. Reading about dental horror stories from the times when there were no dentist is how I try and motivate myself to seek medical attention, they don't work; the pain passes like a storm in the summer.
I was sitting in a trendy restaurant trying to enjoy the company, food and ambiance of a Saturday night, but the sterilized view of the street from where I was dining gave me an uneasy feeling; all I could see were the ghost of former residents, family owned businesses and taped off crime scenes. The music, voices and clanging of dinnerware drowned out by the memories of bullets and bulldozers.