All posts tagged: Blog

#WeekendCoffeeShare -Happy Poems Are Still Not My Thing

It’s Sunday already and so far this morning I’ve managed to procrastinate and avoid doing any sort of constructive work. To be fair there’s quite a bit that I could be getting on with. I have an exam on Thursday and another the following Tuesday, there’s a submission deadline for Barren Magazin. today that I wanted to have something written for, and I still have a number of poems that I wanted to go over and redraft. Instead of doing that though, I’ve decided to write this post and fetch myself another brew to see if I can kick my brain into some sort of functioning gear. This week life has gone back to its normal routines. This has meant that my evenings were a little busier than usual and I didn’t get the chance to post as much to my blog as I wanted to. This year I’m trying not to get myself down about that. I know it means that I don’t get the same rate of stats on the site but I’m …

In Search Of The View

You striped your shins raw and red spilling from an open window onto the porch roof outside.   Hands flat against the bitumen you brought yourself upwards, tall, bearing gravel bitten palms.   My hands will ache at the thought, of your smile through the lifted glass, half shadowed by the sunset.   Second, I was more careful in the going, kept my skin as it should be, clean, whole, unharmed. I did not spill.   Then we watched as clouds scudded east to west on slow, hidden winds.   Your slips always taught me lessons. Like how to pick old wounds clean.            

Heatwave

The Spring was wet, enough that the trees still look alive above the yellow grass, their roots searching out hidden wells to keep from losing too many leaves. In their shade the heat has baked the ground into a bad ceramic, the glaze already chipped and cracked in this overheated kiln. Camouflaged by brittle stalks the sacrifices go unnoticed, dust to dust, ashes to ashes, the trees can only stand so long.

Sun Sick

Tonight I am chasing the cool side of the pillow, almost as elusive as breeze despite the windows with their open mouths panting in the heat. Here, the backs of my knees slide slicked between day fresh sheets too quickly twisted into abandoned heaps, lumps of coal still smoldering at the foot of this bed all while the ceiling fan wheels in slow circles the air curdling into soups so thick it sticks in my lungs like grief I want to scream into the cool side of a pillow until my breath has turned cotton to swamp, until I cannot tell the tears from my sweat   and the summer feels a little less like a coffin pressing in on all sides.

Love Song

I do not love you like the ocean, I’m much too scared of drowning. Instead I love you like a battered paperback, small enough to pocket on walks from dorm rooms to lecture halls. I love like the blanket my housemate bought me, too pink to be polite but a soft cucoon against my skin warm on cold winter nights. I love you like anything that can be forgotten tucked away or to one side, but hangs around in the quiet moments still very much alive. I do not love you like life itself, but I love you a little like breath. In the same way that I do not think about it, in the same way that to not would be nonsense in the same way that I don’t know how to stop without the pressure in my chest building to a point where I think I might shatter me pieces. I suppose I love you a little like breathing. I do not love you like the ocean though. With you I have never …

Ripples

The ripples are gone when I look, searching the water for a slip of silver twisting back on itself leaping skyward in panic or ecstasy perhaps. I think about you and I, or at least the phantom of us that clings to my lungs on slow days, crawls onto my shoulders to press my face down, down, down, down where I deserve to be when my own body twisted back on itself, my mouth searching for a way to swallow the words I’d spoken, to return them to the saftey of unspoken rather than the spotlight of my glowing red cheeks as I fumbled to dress myself in what I thought was maturity. I can feel nails along my spine, when I think of how much I wanted to be loved.

Scarecrow

You stitched yourself a world of patchwork panels hanging crooked from one another. A cobbled mess of this and that, the tension off in the needlework, thread fraying loose in places. One stray breath would rip asunder everything. Yet still, you held it out.

NaPoWriMo Wrap Up – Megha Sood

Megha Sood is an avid reader, loves to sing, an ardent lover of poetry and sometimes can scribble few lines too. She has worked in the IT field for almost a decade as a manager, worked crazy hours and traveled around the world. She is also a contributing author at GoDogGO Cafe,Whisper and the Roar and Poets Corner. Her works have been featured in GoDogGoCafe, Whisper and the Roar, Duane Poetree, Visual Verse, Poets Corner, Modern poetry, Spillwords,Indian periodicals and soon to be featured in Literary heist,Morality park, Poets head and many more. You can find her work at meghasworldsite.wordpress.com How it started: This is my first time taking part in NaPOWriMo as I started writing poetry last September. Being on the author panel of few literary collectives, I was already aware of April being the National Poetry Month and I decided to roll out an anthology about the “Sexual Exploitation of Women”on my personal blog .While researching about the National poetry Month I came to know about the #NaPoWriMo started by Maureen Thompson and …

NaPoWriMo Wrap Up – Frank Ray/PCGuyIV

While I don’t necessarily hide my real name, as my Smashwords and Facebook accounts both use it, I had started blogging as PCGuyIV well before I had either of those, and just never bothered to change it. I do kind of like the artificial anonymity it provides, but I don’t make a big deal about it if someone actually calls me by my name in a comment. Of course, when I started blogging, I wasn’t doing it for the sake of blogging, but rather for the sake of showing off my skills with HTML and CSS, though I quickly learned to enjoy the writing process as well. But that’s just blogging in general. I didn’t get around to the poetry thing unil a bit later. Whereas my decent into madness…er…I mean, my attempts at blogging began back in 2005, or maybe even earlier, I didn’t start posting poetry on my blogs until 2014. And that brings me to this year, when I found out about NaPoWriMo. I wish I could say exactly what possessed me …