NaPoWriMo Poems

Last day. See you all on the other side.

Winning The Lottery Reminds Me To Breathe

I have blue eyes / and it’s raining today /

and daffodils bloomed in the middle

of my driveway / and they laughed with me / and I said

thank you / and the sky is purple / and the trees

are singing / and I remember where I left

the lost parts of myself / and I remember I’m a tealight

at best in this world / and I’m a thimble at best

in the universe / and my fingerprints are shaped

like birds and the wind moved me

when I stood on the Eiffel Tower / and my favourite

jokes gather in the jar on my desk / and a seagull

told me to have a good day / and I did

have a good day / and my smile reminds me of someone

I haven’t met yet / and I met you / and I’m happy /

and I’m still alive.

What are the chances?

Lucky

Interwine with gratitude,

Better wine ages overtime

Throughout travels,every detail

Come out,unravel how one fail

Can push them to sail on often new

Times to be have,experiences

Are undiscovered until they

Are discover,uncover real

Meaning behind conditioning,

Just having breath,center,spirit

Within world,realize this universe

A city waiting to become

Takeover,perhaps,its time to

End this chapter...Uber stop its

My cue,last day of work starts a

New chapter,waiting,to unveil

Day 30 - InNaPoWriMo

I am sad that today is the last day of our Poetry Month. I loved writing these pieces and to share this amazing journey with you. Thanks Rachel for inspiring and supporting us all!🙂

Lucky

Counting my breaths on my fingers,

I consider myself lucky,

To breath in this light of sunrise,

the warmth flowing in my veins,

Walking down the country road,

I consider myself lucky,

the sky is blue like heart of sapphire,

and I can feel it seep within,

I write poetry in pink sunsets,

I consider myself lucky,

converging the heart with little words,

my fingers acting as conductors,

I see the stars from my roof,

I consider myself lucky,

the night sky wraps me in a cocoon,

and I feel safe in the dark,

Counting my breaths on my fingers,

I consider myself lucky,

to live a life with simple joys,

one day at a time.

Please provide feedback if you can. I keep changing this one and at this point I want to see what you all think before I mess with it more. :)

Time

I am searching for time’s betrayal, when it left my side and lost its direction. Eventually it gave in to its surroundings grass sprouted around it, died and re-born, season after season.

And I reached for peace,

where none was found,

only memories blended

together overlaying

one another.

I could not shift through

them to find the one I needed.

I shook memory after memory

out of my head

until I settled on one.

The day I was wrapped in

a wool blanket

wrapping my hands around a

hand painted mug,

with faded blue snowflakes

gazing at nothing and everything

Content at the life I built

from inside.

I savor this keepsake, holding

it in my arms even though it

is too lost in time.

Not my best work of this month.

However,looking forward to last day of this month.

Thank you to everyone who was involved with NaWriPoMo.

Absolute pleasure,looking forward to continue journey with the Cove.

Last Journey

Three o clock,

Hitting snooze

For the tenth

Millionth time

Waking up

Back to bed,

Prefer stay

Asleep,by

The time phone

Was check,all

Clear,call U

Ber,thinking

Another

Thirty min

Of waiting

Time,after

It went to

Last app screen,

It said....NINE

MINUTES,quick

Hit shower,

Gargle mouth

Wash,got old

Uniform

Went straight to

Work,also

Last days be

Fore a new

Chapter can

Finally

Begin a

New

Day 29. Wrote this the other day and seems to fit today's prompt:

Fortune Cookies

It was 12 degrees with a moderate wind

But still humid enough for a jacket.

I creep out in my torn up trainers

While the neighbourhood sleeps.

I go out to my local takeaway

And treat myself.

He asks me how I'm doing from

behind the counter. I tell him honestly

This is the first time I've been out in weeks.

It's hard for me to get out of bed

And even harder to explain.

He gives me extra fortune cookies

And wishes me well.

On the journey home, I think about

the fortune cookies, and feel hopeful.

Not that I believe in them or anything.

But, at the same time, maybe I really have

a shot at a good ending.

Where the main character doesn't succumb

To 10pm on a cold, empty bus with a hot meal.

I let my food go cold before I eat it

To make it harder to swallow.

To make sure I can still see my ribs

when I stretch the twilight out of my bones.

Once again, I am filled with hope.

I remember my fortune cookies and open them,

prepared for anything.

You need not worry about the future.

I think about what that means.

Maybe I won't lose my home.

Maybe I'll write that book.

Maybe the nightmares will go away.

I might even get a cat and name him Cookie.

The possibilities are endless.

I sink into my pillow a little more as I

open the second cookie.

You will inherit a large sum of money.

All my hope is shotgunned by confusion.

Maybe pieces of paper in red packets

Don't know me as much as I thought.

I am unsure now exactly why I am full

And how much is still stuck in my throat.

Day 29. Let's go.

Anna Lisa, The Sun Is Asking For You

What are the chances that we’d meet?

You with your curly hair and me

with my navy blue glasses.

You’re exactly who I’m looking for,

though I didn’t know

I was looking for anybody.

Your face is the moon of a planet

in a solar system I’ve never heard of before,

flicking in the light of a candle I can’t see.

Your eyes aren’t windows. Instead,

glass bottom boats. Turn off the engines,

let me see all the fish you carry in your heart.

It’s warm and you’re wearing a pale green scarf

which brings out your eyes, though your eyes

aren’t green. Your voice is the bird perched

on the telephone wire, singing to the sunrise.

I drink red wine while I write poetry, you say.

You don’t notice that your hand is holding a pen

that’s not there, writing on a page that’s not there.

The poem is there though I don’t understand.

I don’t need to understand to know

you are love. You don’t know my name.

Your name is the sound of a cloud

moving across the sky.

I know I’m a comma in your life, a footnote at best.

I’m happy with this. Falling asleep on the train with you

at 3AM is my best decision. I wake up

with your scarf around my neck.

Out of the window, two suns light up your eyes.

What are the chances?

Day 29 - InNaPoWriMo

Cold Coffee

I was on a journey,

I didn't know the destination,

nor that I cared to find out either,

I have been on too many travels with exact destinations,

someone's heart, someone's thoughts, someone's needs,

but those were round trips where the departing was always delayed,

So there I saw, huge mountains backdropped my paths,

the snow melted laying bare the black stones,

the winding roads with stretched misty forests on either side,

I saw a rough cliff, a cerulean ocean calling me,

I took a peek downstairs,

the sands lining the edge of its incoming ally,

I climbed down,

and stood at a distance, where waves kissed my feet,

I felt the cold on my palm instead,

I looked down,

the mug of cold coffee,

wrapped in my tired fingers,

the sheets of poems soaking the creeping condensation on the table.

Lost

Thursday night on spring evening

An student who's aspiring

Be a Hollywood sensation,

Invested in situation

He chose,there he was,practicing

In class,another noticing,

Classmate,putting on performance

Unrealized fatal hindrance,

Mistake even,as they both went

To seats,thunder,shockwaves had sent

To him,leaning back and forth all

Sudden,eyes blinking,bridge has fall

Down,unfortunately,he's up

As he saids his line,smile cup

Disguise as confidence,pausing

By acting coach,then realizing

Off card,lethal mistake,he crash

And burn,on that night,the man quit

After class,he rush out,blew it

All perception screw him over,

Oh he knew,ran in the darkness

Chest huffing and puffing,sadness,

Dry eyes looking down,thankfully

Gas station appear,peacefully

Pineapple coconut Gatorade

Emerge,while a haterade

Something gargantuan was lost,

Four years,opportunity cost

Him to sacrifice everything

Eventually,fade to nothing,

Pondering,a non existing

Killer instinct,thriller in him

Has gone extinct,normal average

Civilian,waiting,savage

Scavenger,eat avenger a

Live,now,no mercy,no remorse

Listen,legacy,is a leg

Wait for humanity to beg

Behind person,waste potential

How can one find original

If it's already within them???????

Authenticity a city,

Politicians,won’t condition

To find,presence,more than essence

Also most important of two,

At least,perceive to becoming

Listening to many,many

Many,humans,who aren't helping

Him becoming the man he could,

Have been,sabotage,the actor

So his factor wouldn't be it,

He has reach his true pinnacle,

He has fallen off,evermore

A raven being nevermore,

A rock band being Paramore

A braveheart dies on his Claymore

Furthermore,an actor cannot

Exist anymore...

Day 28. Let's go.

The Mountains Ask Me How My Day Is Going

and I tell them I’m having a good day. I lie down between the mountains which are upturned teacups. Me? I’m tiny teacup. I explain that the spider in my bedroom has finally left me alone. I almost drank enough water today. This isn’t where I’m from. The mountains, I mean. I mean there aren’t any mountains where I’m from and this is the closest I’ve come to finding my favourite place. Last year, my favourite place was Challenger Deep but we don’t talk about last year or how my lungs are grateful that I never had the chance to visit. The mountains tell me I talk too much but my voice is a piccolo. I’ve never heard a piccolo before but I imagine it’s the sound of falling asleep. I’m here and the mountains ask me if I’ve listened to the universe lately. I say the universe doesn’t have time for me. She’s far too busy expanding, planning which suns to create, which asteroids will collide. The mountains don’t have eyes but I hear them roll their eyes. What are you talking about? She does all of that for you.

Last Stranger I Saw

Funny,every customer

I serve is stranger danger

Written all over,never

Seen bazaar over ture shown

A collection growing,showing

Bright example of how glowing

One appears,until they complain

About pricing,and all the pain

Of explaining why its this price,

Oh I get it,always the vice

That apparently what they,they

Desire,towards real service,hey

I just work here,no flipping clue

When we open,can't freaking blue

Sunny sky,turn thunder storm grey

Because,obviously,the rey

Of sunshine, pitiful small talk

Ain't enough for worker who walk

Back and forth,since,this position

Is them laughing at ignition

Going dust to dust,ash to ash

Awaiting a Toyota crash

Almost hitting poor poor worker

So many facets of walker

Just so freaking glad I'm leaving

See is believe,and achieving

Day 28 - InNaPoWriMo

Blessing in disguise

What is it?

Now you are angry with me,

drowning in the waves of lost control,

recoiling with the creeping terror,

Oh I see what I did there,

I learnt to love myself,

finally saw the veil of false love,

masking the face of death,

death of my hopes,

death of the nights where I had pulled myself together,

death of poetry, seeping from my ripe heart, through my trembling hands, onto the sheets,

death of all that I could have been had I been alone,

death of my spirit, which danced around, in the joys of miniscule things,

death of me absorbing the petrichor,

death of me who drank alcohol for fun,

death of me who was afraid to lose people,

death of me,

now I have discarded that edition of me,

and have published every inch of me anew,

I am now alone, instead of being lonely,

all because I lost your love.

So proud of you all!

Hang in there Covers! Just 3 more days to go! You've all achieved SO MUCH!

Day 27. Let's go.

Paris: Unframed. June, 2008

I’m fifteen, in a country I’ve never been to

before, school trip. I don’t know it yet

but I won’t come back. Here, I’m pink,

sunburnt. The sun burns hotter here,

so much that I feel literal drops of sunlight

fall onto my skin. Even the stars are hotter,

brighter here, older, more beautiful.

This is the week I start wearing my hair

in a side part. I think the cute boy might

ask me out. I don’t know it yet but he won’t.

We visit the Louvre, a house of infinite rooms.

By infinite, I mean I don’t know it yet

but I won’t see all the rooms. My friends and I

spend time leaping into tourists’ photos.

I think about the tourists and wonder

if they think about the teenage girl

with the side parting. I am a tourist

with strangers in her photos. Mona Lisa’s room

is most popular, she is the most beautiful.

Copies in England are just copies.

She’s protected in a frame, protected behind glass,

protected behind red rope.

The room is most popular, less tin of sardines,

more Rubik’s cube. I step on a stranger’s toes;

a stranger elbows me in the ribs; no time

for apologies. I can barely see Mona

above the moving heads and cameras

but I catch her eye. She’s beautiful.

I imagine how she looks when everyone leaves,

when the lights turn off.

She climbs out of her frame,

slips from behind the glass,

steps over the red rope.

The room is empty; she dances by herself

for hours and hours.

But the lights are on, everyone is here.

I see my reflection in the glass,

framed by her frame. I’m more beautiful here

though it’s nothing to do with my new side part.

I’m in a country I’ve never been to, school trip.

My reflection is dancing, dancing, dancing,

though the lights are on.

Day 27 - InNaPoWriMo

Is that..?

I see her,

walking down the street,

in that facade of skin, blood and bones,

There's fear in her eyes,

fear of her own species,

flaunting smiles, laughs and anger as walk by,

She pulls at the skin of her fingers,

close to nails,

like ripping off the plastic,

tightly bound on the box of chocolates,

She sips her coffee,

throwing awkward stares around,

like it's stolen and not bought,

Gingerly, she reached for her notebook,

it had tiny stars embossed on the cover,

She started writing,

about the coffee,

about the street,

about the people passing by,

then she glanced at the glass window of the cafe,

and smiled,

she was I, now doing what she loved the most,

poetry.

Day 26. Let's go.

Honestly, this didn't come out as I'd intended (and I had a bit of a breakdown during the middle of it.) But here we are. Day 26. The ending is so close. I'll be damned if I give up now. I'm either stubborn or stupid or exhausted. Most likely all of those things.

Violin, The Museum

Some will hear its silent message.

All will feel a presence that’s impossible to ignore. – Pigeon Fort Museum, Tennessee

A violin washes up on the shore,

protected by a case,

still corroded from seawater.

They say she’s unplayable.

I am the violin and the case.

She’s passed from sister

to music teacher

to neighbour

to son

to auction.

They say she comes from a shipwreck,

she belonged to the bandmaster

who played and played

so hymns were the last thing

passengers heard.

I’m the ship, band, passengers, violin.

They say she’s the most valuable artefact

recovered from the wreckage.

The ghosts, who still hold parties,

were sad to see her go.

She’s displayed in a museum,

damaged, unplayable.

They say visitors hear music when they pass by.

I’m the violin and the museum.

I’m on the other side of the world

and hear a single note.

I can’t find where it’s coming from.

I’m calm, still alive.

Don't Talk Anymore

Childhood

Comprise of

Systemize

Humankind

Remember those times very

Well,seventh grade,in Spanish

Class,aquintance,whats scary?

A year later in English

We became cool,group project

In algebra class,eating

Lunch in cafeteria,

Talking about blowjobs,what

Ever the heck that meant back

Then,friends laughing,spitting out

Food,mocking middle school kid

Jaw dropping,well,its true,and

Please don't tell me what it is,

Anyway,last days of school

Headphones plug in,discover

Taste of music,head rocking

Back and forth,screaming,UNDEAD

Over and over,never

Gets old,must say,best friends for

Ever.....or so one would thought

Moral of the story,some

One shows up,ruining friend

Ship,or I let be ruin

Try calling on Saturday

Noon,only to realize,they

Were with that person,looking

Back,understandable, you

Try to rekindle friendship,

Spark isn't same anymore,which

Was why I wrote long letter

Release myself from these chains

May peace to never see you a

Gain,focus on poetry,

Acting career,alignment,

Digital Marketing just

Exist solely for income

However,may give freedom

Live life on my own terms so

Friend,no longer bitter,nor

Holding grudges over what

Happen,honestly,we were

Young,with reckless abandon

Have move on to human kind

Who are more in congruence

To who I'm becoming:man

With a apparently Big

Life,best part,I already

See it,unleash,Bendy now

Forever,

Thanks,undead

Sincerely,

Everything

Day 26 - InNaPoWriMo

No more birthday wishes

I still open your chat,

when I am feeling low,

absent-mindedly reaching for the safe place I had known,

Waves of nostalgia hit me hard,

The fragrance of rose reaches into my lungs,

the touch lost in the echoes of time,

I type three words,

delete it all,

how are you sounding a bit out of the way now,

you were hurting,

I knew all your aches,

saving you seemed less evil,

than letting you drown in my dark abyss,

you blamed me,

for abandoning you, leaving you alone,

I could not lift a finger,

letting your grassy path to fill with gravel,

I stare at the ants,

progressing in a perfect queue,

I remember the times I followed you around,

The laughs now buried in awkward memories,

I am shaken awake by the ting of a notification,

My heart races,

and as I stare into my phone,

my face is taken over with a bittersweet smile,

It's your birthday,

and I can't say those two words.

Day 25

Twin Flame

As we sit across the table, the candle’s flame separates us, and I see the distance welling in your eyes, worlds apart, You curl your lips into a smile to hide your distain. The disgust of me covered in lipstick. Stirring your drink clockwise, then counter, turning your own time dial. You keep averting your eyes. What is so interesting across the room? I speak to you, but the flame catches my words. Every whisper, every plea burns to smoke. Today, I’m choosing my confessions. I let you go, because I couldn’t hold onto myself. I let your fingers slip from my grip, and now as I watch you walk away, without a second glance, I lost my right, my place in your life. The flame sashays, the candle dripping my tears for me.