Where do we go to find peace when those we love continue to crumble and fall despite our best efforts or intentions? How to find solace when past decisions stand unyielding with fresh honed blades before every doorway but the ones we cannot imagine taking? How can a person be expected to say goodbye to friends that never became as close as I should have let them?
Wine swallows fast and only polishes pain.
I try to get lost in books but find myself reading Night again and again.
I never wanted to stay here but now that the end is coming I cannot stand the thought. The journey won’t kill me but the same might not be true for him.
And the hardest part is proving to not be saying goodbye. If the end would come, at least it would be over.
Hope’s blade is proving to be the sharpest and shallow cuts inflicted slowly always cause the most pain.
There is an island that stays strung with Christmas lights
until March or June
where the people wish you a “Happy New Year”
all year round.
You can hitchhike from one end
of the island to the other
by pointing in the direction that you want to go
but only middle aged American expats will pick you up.
On the resorts, the palm trees have been neutered
but on the wild beaches
if you can heft a rock high enough
and hard enough
you can knock down a coconut
and spend half an hour tearing hair
from the clinging surface of the nut
for a few gritty mouthfuls
of sweet cloudy water.
I have not been the best at keeping up with NaPoWriMo this month but as long as I’m writing more poems than I would have, I count it as a win. This one has nothing to do with the suggested prompt but I did take a couple ideas from the excellent page that they linked to here. Check it out for some good poetry writing prompts.
Earth and its overlords
look like fluffy clouds
to the sheep on the moon.
The word dominion was a mistranslation
I lived it well and still
happiness eludes me.
The strangest word
is the one that has been read
but not yet spoken.
The strangest path
is the one I walk–looking ahead,
one path over to the right.
Anywhere but here.
Anywhere but where I am.
How long did it take to fly all those sheep to the moon?
Can they see me?
Today’s prompt from NaPoWriMo is a really fun one. The challenge is to write a poem made entirely of declarative statements, with a single question at the end. I had a lot of fun writing weird declarative statements, but I ended up going off of the view out my window: two trees block the view and they are just drenched in pink flowers. It’s beautiful and meditative and so peaceful that I couldn’t bring myself to write something silly.
I think I will post another poem later, based around the idea of ridiculous statements. That will be so much fun. But for now, here’s this:
Storm clouds are rolling in.
Pink speckled flowers hang heavy on the branch.
The last time we walked this way, we were going to the fair.
You held my hand that day.
We played skee ball and didn’t win.
We tossed rings to win goldfish and we didn’t win.
We rubbed soft rabbits, poking our fingers through wire cages.
You put your arm around me and told me you loved me
three times that night.
The night is dark and full of wonder.
When will I walk this way again?
As the boyfriend and I plan our exodus to the Caribbean, I have been reflecting on the things we’ll be leaving behind. The prompt for day six of NaPoWriMo conveniently asks that we write a valediction, or a poem of farewell. This is my attempt to say goodbye to North America as I prepare to step into the unknown.
A Valediction For The Mainland
When the sky begins to blue,
when thick pink petals fall like rain from mossy branches,
when goslings drenched in yellow are just beginning to learn how to swim
Then is the time to say goodbye.
When coats come off
and pasty legs salute the sun
as it rises ever higher in the sky.
Now is the time to say goodbye.
Goodbye to the seasons
and Christmas with snow;
Goodbye to the reasons
that I don’t want to go.
Goodbye to wide rivers
and the long open road.
Goodbye to big cities
and the heaviest load.
Goodbye to everything I have ever known.
Goodbye to traveling the world alone.
you may see stars
but not like those at sea
that gleam beneath the waves as
Fozzie walked a fine line
at the beach that day,
drawn in the sand, it was.
He walked it down a long long way
Hop-skipping he hippity-jumped.
If that makes no sense
(as you might say)
Then imagine that Fozzie
didn’t go to the beach that day.
Imagine he didn’t flap round in the sand
or whistle foam bubbles out his nose
as he ran. Imagine he didn’t
Imagine he wouldn’t.
Imagine he simply, not possibly couldn’t.
Do what you will
imagine or don’t.
I’m guessing you wont.
Just a quick note- the prompt today was to write a “sea shanty”. I’m tired and in a whimsical mood right now so a silly little rhyming story happened instead. I actually kind of love it.