Do you listen?

Composed 4/25/16
Description: For Day 23 of NaPoWriMo and for today’s Daily Prompt: Whisper.

Do you listen to the whispers of the world?
They speak to you
when the wind whistles and goosebumps
prickle up and down your skin
when the dark closes in
when you feel the sin of sweet on your lips and
the churning inside that settles like sand
Do you listen?
The world is telling you
that spirits ride just behind you that
evil lurks in your corner
and God hovers in certain places when
the view seems sharper and
you smile just because
Do you listen?
It’s not being subtle
we forget we were born psychic
with good and evil within
they tell us to ignore sensation bare perception
but the whispers of the world are what tell us the truth
So listen
let it guide you

Life is like

Composed 4/25/16
Description: Don’t worry. I’m going to keep chugging out these until I have one for every day of April! Here’s one for Day 22.

Most picture life like a movie
Bright vibrant scenes and distinct flashbacks
Every stitch visible and later accessible
To in-depth inspection and speculation
You might say
She’s an open book
Like you could open her up and read
A history scene by scene
But life is rarely so pristine

Life is more like a poem
A blur obscured by emotion
Colored by the hue of one moment
Each other a metaphor viewed through hammered glass
We glance though make interpretations
Memories fade but
It’s the interpretations that last

Reaper

Composed 4/23/16
Description: Trying to keep up with NaPoWriMo! Here’s one for Day 21. Inspired by this picture.

a woman in walking in the rain down a street
by BaxiaArt

She walked between the raindrops
A whisper in the night
She hummed along with cricket songs
And danced between the lights
Of fireflies and alleyways
Footprints splashed without a sound
She hovered between each universe
A hologram you could not pin down
Despite the dark that hung on her
Her smile brought a light
And it was just when it brightened that
She’d take a human life

Sensitivity

Composed 4/19/16
Description: For Day 19 of NaPoWriMo. Sometimes you struggle for inspiration and then you just look in the mirror…

They say a cold touch
Means your heart is on fire
But what does it mean when
My skin alights at the faintest touch?
A fingerprint will leave a mark
The leaning edge of a countertop a knife
Pressing scars along my arms

Pressing matters do not alarm me
A slap would rarely enrage
Does my skin overcompensate?
Hint to what lies beneath its rapid color
A blush, a semblance of pain
Where inside all is pale and even
Perhaps it’s too tame so my skin must
Flame so I seem
Human

Sunshine Dream

Composed 4/18/16
Description: For Day 17 of NaPoWriMo. Obviously… I’m not yet used to warm weather.

I woke up today to a blinding dream
Even the grass sings sunshine songs
The air is light and pale and fresh
As the outside breathes into the room
My skin feels new as if
Pleasure has just caressed my cheeks
People chatter and birds softly sing
A drowsy, pure reality
I’m numb with the glee, indeed
This must be a dream

Change

Composed 4/16/16
Description: For Day 16 of NaPoWriMo. A kyrielle (mostly). 

We look at change with timid eyes
A mountain rising in the sky
However what we fail to see
Is change is made of tiny things

Brand new routines in small amounts
Can change your life by leaps and bounds
A small new habit in a week
Shows change is made of tiny things

A splash of water on your face
A freshly clean and tidy space
Now shower voices loudly sing
This change is made of tiny things

Don’t let the mountain pass on by
The current path is smooth you find
Even small steps can feel so sweet
For change is made of tiny things

Last Page

Composed 4/14/16
Description: For Day 14 of NaPoWriMo. Can you believe it? I’m actually caught up! And I even have a poem stewing for tomorrow! Anyway.

Today I filled up the last page of my “creative” notebook: a small, lined book I usually carry around with me in order to scribble down ideas, lists, a few lines that pop into my head, or even complete poems.

open notebook with mechanical pencil
The Notebook

This notebook became a way to write down and contain my ideas in an organized place; in other words, a way to avoid writing things down on “Scraps of Paper“: receipts, random loose-leaf, napkins, etc. (i.e. things that get lost easily). Usually these are first drafts that get transferred to a Word document where they’re edited and then (ta dah!) sent to you.

Anyway, I so rarely reach the end of any notebook that this is kind of a momentous occasion for me. The beginning of this notebook coincides pretty closely with my resurgence into writing and my beginning leap into poetry. Obviously, two-hundred-something poems later, it’s been a huge success.

So what do you do when you reach that last page? That thing that symbolizes so much time and hard work and even a new section of your life?

Well, you write an ode of sorts to it, naturally.

Last page
It’s taken awhile to get here
And I’ve seen too few of your kind
I hope to not disappoint
With these last few scribbled lines
Then again
It’s not the end
You’re more like a bookmark to me
This is only one small finale
The start of many beginnings
Still
I feel good
You’ve given me so much pride
So thanks for the memories
Thanks for the ride
I guess this is goodbye then
I’ll move on to something else
But I’ll always hold you high
Up on my bookshelf