007 Challenge

[KatieJones]

7

True North Spins

When the ground becomes air
and still I haven’t learned
to fly,
or if someone is writing my story,
if anyone holds my map
or if I am
the compass
that self-generates direction
under the constancy of nothing
and the weight of everything.

 

[Lyricalli]

Such a good run, Katie!

I've hit a bit of a block, and I've got to get some writing done soon or I'm not going to make it.

 

[KatieJones]

Such a good run, Katie!

I've hit a bit of a block, and I've got to get some writing done soon or I'm not going to make it.

Thank you!

You can do it!

 

[Lyricalli]

3-004

There's a kind of hush
that washes over me
as you pass through
my disordered thoughts
some small reminder
a glance at the clock
and I stop to wonder
if I'm wandering too
wherever you are
if this brief stillness
is the part of me
that calls to you
being answered

 

[Lyricalli]

3-005

Time to say goodbye
to the summer
of my discontent
as the tomatoes slow
peppers remain to be picked
watching autumn approach
and the melon
that refuses to ripen
a reminder that plans
don't always come to fruition

I'll enjoy my small harvest
preserve what I can
breathe in the cooler air
let all the leaves fall
before I can think
about planting seeds again

 

[Lyricalli]

3-006

Running out of time
poeming like it's my job
combing through words and phrases
trying to find inspiration
something that fuels imagination
because the muse is being a little lazy lately
perhaps off playing with another
with no bother that I need to fill these pages

 

[Lyricalli]

3-007

The day before the day
hangs in my memory
like so many other
days before the day
before everything changed
remembered for their glorious ordinary
matted and framed in hindsight
displayed in the gallery
of what used to be
while I learn to paint
with the colors of now
in my artless, clumsy way

 

[todski28]

lanterns flicker ghosting light
traking a path of hope
of fire burning against the dark
of night held at bay in the soft glow

lines drawn in the sand
flakes of fallen leaves dull
drift on the wind to float
lost in the space between worlds
where I will se you again some day

because at least with hope
there is...

 

[todski28]

Smoke bellows flung hard from the maachine
hissing its dry-ice flurry
glowsticks swing leaving a haze of light
and the beat
hits
hits
hits the chest
revebrating this seething mass
of undulating waves, rhythms
that
force you to nod
that heart beat thud
it beats
it beats
it beats

we float in primordial moments
as if we are in the womb
dancing between smoke
and latent memories

 

[todski28]

Im broken
beyond the scope of normality
trauma

blunt
force
trauma
spelt out in contusions
and insrcribed insecurities

you dont love me unless you beat me
or tear at me
or batter me down with trauma
emotional trauma

scar tissue can't be seen,
I feel the raised lumps of it
the textures
the ache of it

everytime it bumps against something
I feel dull pain shoot into every fibre

I dont love myself
unless I beat myself, driven
to edges
crash into them
over them
until I am nothing but pain
and
love

All I want is you
to feel these scars

 

[Chillestjill]

001

All my men were at ease with rifles resting in their hands. They held danger as a father would hold a baby son. Every step was cocked by defiance of certain, knowable death. When Daddy died, I unlocked the rosewood cabinet. As my brothers emptied it, the shadows of guns remained, declaring the efficacy of metal's great defiance. The sun is an absent parent. Bullets don't give a shit about the licenses meant to leash them.

 

[Chillestjill]

002

Daddy was younger then.
Younger than i am now. Always
He fished. He sunk his hook
Down. Down. Then, patiently,
Inch by inch, he stole the words from their
Silver mouths. When he saw me staring, he
Shrugged, " they're only fish."

 

[Chillestjill]

003

Three cut
Diamonds proved
Their hardness.
No stallions survived
The headlines.
Four hands held millions.
Too full to blow kisses.
But the red palms sold
Well at Christmas.

 

[Chillestjill]

004

Every morning , every day,
Good women walk their children
To school. Good men, too, but it is the good
Women who impress me most. Some
Carry legacy on their backs. Legacy is a heavy
Cloth. Some carry children or civic duty.
Some imagine that they are singular
In their purity. I am not pure. But I was robbed
By women who think they are.

 

[Chillestjill]

005

Micah sent another
Pair of skates to my box,
One size 8, another size 11.
Otherwise identical.
Love sometimes needs laces.

 

[Chillestjill]

Tgif

Plenty of cloth and sewing needles
Plus a couple of nimble hands
Sexes up ambition as if there were a model
On the cover of a pattern.
Thus words are sewn together. Suddenly.
Passionately. Thank you to those
Who made the table
Upon which I Frankenstein
A few poems. Upon which so many
Have built friendships.

 

[Chillestjill]

007

I bought the pink carnations for myself,
Arranged them in the vase ex-husband bought,
For pink delights the eye. Fresh lends its health
To hearts and veins which blue from lovers' drought.
To every woman reading this, a rose!
A hope that whom you love will love in kind.
To every man who reads this, may your prose
And poetry be firm in love and mind.
No person ever lived who was not loved,
Yet many died for whom this was not proved.

 

[Lyricalli]

Welcome to PF&D, Chillestjill. I've just read through your 007, and you've written some interesting stuff. Hope to see more from you.

 

[Chillestjill]

Thank you. That is very knd. I wish 007 was a stanza longer but it seemed done. Thank you for the welcome. I will watch for your poems.
.

 

[Chillestjill]

001

Best answers to "What would you do with magic?"
Were
"I would buy my mom a house."
"I would swim EVERY day."
"I would fly. In the sky."
"I would be invisible and make everything else disappear."

 

[Piscator]

Welcome Chillestjill a most interesting 007 and another starting - you are a glutton for punishment.

 

[Chillestjill]

002-2

Few games allow trumps.
Occasionally they are one-eyed Jacks
And high stakes games, by regulation,
Require vigil, pulled out pockets.
I am not a gambler. I always prefer
Record to rhetoric. This
Clearly is not in keeping with zeitgeist.

 

[Chillestjill]

003

All ships have arrived at port. Cargo
Inexact, but still the boxlids MUST
Be pried open.

Mustn't they?

Could be bananas! Could be ancient text!
Or could be the starved human, poorly trafficked.

Me? I hope it's seaweed and comic books.
I would carry that crate.

 

[Chillestjill]

004

Fear and loathing can easily be imagined
As Jack and Jill.
They both made it up the hill.
One was concussed.

Moral of the story? No jewel is more precious
Than water in any state. What

Happened to the pail?

 

[Chillestjill]

005

Planned obsolescence
Is not
Quite
As evil as planned
Breakage.
Obsolesence
Imp
Lies they had the better thing
In sleeves.

Planned breakage
Sucks its life blood
From warranties.

Turns out, warranties
Can always be extended.

Immortality isn't cheap.