#NaPoWriMo – Day Nine – Fate Speaks

Once there is time
I must download one of those meditation apps
and learn how to let go
of the little things out of my control.
I should make space for more me-time,
worry less about the lives of others
and untangle their questions
from my existence.
I read a quote once,
it said we are more than what people make of us,
which was nice but not so accurate
when you’re an idea rather than a flesh sack
and what people make of you, makes you more
and more…
I should learn how to trim down for summer maybe?
Shed the unnecessary pounds,
find a way to slip back inside a double handled jar,
put a lid on it,
sleep.
Tell them all to make their own way for once,
that I am done guiding
or being blamed
for every bad decision that was ever made.

write a poem in the form of a “to-do list.”

NaPoWriMo 2021 – Day 9 Prompt

I love a “to-do” list. I have them at work every day, and outside of work I jot down little lists of things I want to achieve with my free time or important tasks that must not be forgotten. My own list for today looks a little like this:

  • Write NaPoWriMo Day Nine Post (Done!)
  • Deal with house stuff. (Done!)
  • Submit rejected short story to the journal suggested by the editor of the journal that rejected it.
  • Submit a poem (or poems) to Spelt.
  • Compile submission document for Interpreter’s House.
  • Make a list of submission calls for the rest of April.
  • Write 1,000 words for NaNoWriMo

I always find that if I get the first couple of things ticked off first thing, I’ve got the momentum to get the rest of the list done. If I leave it all to the last hour of the day, nothing will be achieved and I’ll just file the list away with the rest of the good-intentions that never saw the light of day. Have any of you got “to-do list” tips for an expert procrastinator?

Fourteen Weeks – A Poem By Carol J Forrester

The size of a lemon,
which reminds me of a fruit tree,
miniature,
leaves buttered up and green
as the unripe citruses berried in-between…
and this is much the same,
this slow uncurling as you ripen
my own belly thickening till I peel
off my layers,
test the softness around my middle,
squeeze the fruit flesh.
You feel all this apparently,
spin like a top, end over end
become a flicker in a whirlwind.
Still hidden by your smallness,
little lemon pip blooming.

I’ve missed quite a few DVersePoets night over the past couple of months, and that’s mainly been because I’ve spent all my free time napping. The little Gremlin above is due this summer, and I’ve had all the fun of pregnancy sickness to content with, so my writing took a bit of a hit. My husband and I are very excited to welcome our little human into the world, and I thought what better way to tell my poet friends the news, than with a poem for the Open Link Night!

One Owner, Still Very Much In Use

Someone once told me

life is like driving

with one headlight busted.

You can’t see much

but you can see enough

to stay on the road.

 

It sounded too close to destiny

wrapped up as a given

for those with cars

or perhaps even torchlight

to stumble on by.

 

In the moment before the train

do you ever wonder…

a side effect of an anxious mind

designed to keep you from harm

by popping ideas in your head

with enough force to flinch.

 

But it’s all unreal 

until enough breath is breathed

to put steel into the words

the ideas

that dance like paper on a line

in our heads.

 

New cars have automatic lights.

They come on when night falls

without the need

of human intervention.

My car is still old, growing older,

it comes with a choice to make.

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Shadow Heart

We were discreet.

Those nights where his ghost

would seek me out,

all hands and fumbling fingers.

In the press of lips,

of skin and tangy sweat,

he’d forget to care for a while,

and loose the thought of her

somewhere between my sheets,

until the morning

brought her back into the light,

and he would have to pick her up,

tuck her inside his heart,

and carry her round like a stone,

sinking further with every step.

There are some weights that never lift

and loves that never really die.

KV3IAPG3TB

So today’s post is another poem I’m afraid. I seem to be bombarding you with them this week. It’s also another duel prompt response. I’ve taken the daily post prompt Ghost and SecretKeeper’s five word weekly work in prompt and jammed them together.

I’m hoping to spend the rest of the evening work on some flash fiction to get set up for posting over the next couple of days, so if you have time, please check out my flash fiction/short stories section and let me know what you think of the stuff there.

There’s an imaginary cup of tea in it for you!

But really, thank you for reading, it means the world to me.

Starlight

Winter brought its claws against the glass

and pressed its snout

frozen lips peeled back,

icicle teeth glittering,

closer to me

without clouds

of warming breath

to fog the panes.

To remind me there was still life somewhere

behind the maw…

 

You, in your uncovered sky

when day is shortest and night longest

whispered

and chided the Winter.

Told it: ‘hold back its claws’

and save the snarl

for darker nights

when the moon fails to rise

and the stars are too distant

to cross space in time.

 

These months there seems more of you,

dotted and dancing

tumbling over one another

to spell out patterns

I know I must have known once…

 

I can see Winter at the glass,

nose pressed against mine.

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