A gathering of sticks and stones #poetry #thedirtythirtychallenge #fire

 

A gathering of sticks and stones:

 

I see the strain in your hunched shoulders little love

Your crouched knees show me everything

Eye to eye we curl into each other

My fingers reach towards you

Flickering and clean

But you –

   Retreat.

 

*

 

Dirty Thirty Day 23 Prompt:

Write a poem from the perspective of a natural element ie. water, fire, earth etc., or a force of nature, for instance, a hurricane, earthquake, tornado etc.
The clincher: the poem gets shorter with each line.

 

The Dirty Thirty Challenge is one poem a day for the thirty days of April. Dirty Thirty prompts are from ‘The Dirty Thirty Challenge’ facebook group (admins). Poems published here are my own unless otherwise specified.

Light #poetry #lovestory #marriage #home

Light:

It spreads.
Inching it’s way across my smile. Across the lines around my mouth and the old tightness in my jaw. Curling into the moment of skin where my ears touch my face. Tickling its way up into my hair, ghost fingers of joy. Undeniable.
It spreads.
Whenever I look at you. Whenever you look at me.
It spreads.
In time. In space. In this.
It spreads.

 

*

 

Prompt – ‘freewrite friday”

Conjoin #oldflame #poetry #thedirtythirtychallenge

 

Conjoin:

 

Dear Him.

 

How many years now?

 

How many years have we folded into the secrets that time is made of?

 

My secrets.

Yours.

A bibliography of dreams untouched by truth. We seeded something though, you and I. In dark corners and deep dreams. In silliness and fire skin. In spiky grass and houses made of dust. In teenage legs and adult eyes. In too many truths and not enough sighs.

 

In windows that were too dirty to see through. I always stood looking out. Hands on hips. Words on lips.

 

And saw/

 

I made you into a troubadour. A perfect warrior poet. All muscles and skin and letting me – only me – in.

 

And

 

We seeded something, you and I. A poppy seed dream. An unlined seam. A sparkle in a stream. My feet cracked the banks and I looked down to see/

 

 

/I was losing me.

 

I don’t remember the last time.

 

The last time that I loved you.

 

But I remember the first.

 

Its skeletal remains a wind chime in my memory

Bones that scream and sing in the wind

Tones that make beauty taste like maybe

Love taste like I didn’t know how perfect I could be

Yesterday taste like salad without dressing

Today taste like tomorrow taught me how to roar

 

I stopped loving you. Because I started loving me.

 

Because that little seed of spinach made me taste a different song. A song that leads me on. And on. And on. And on.

 

It’s a song that tastes like grateful. A song with your son’s eyes. A song with my laugh.

 

How many years now?

 

How many more?

 

To find the peace I came for?

 

From Her.

 

*

Another Dirty Thirty poetry prompt:

Day Twenty One

Write a love letter to an old flame.
The catch? To make sure it doesn’t sink to a sea of sappiness, try to use 1 or more of the following word/phrases in the poem:
poppy seed, bibliography, troubadour, skeletal, spinach, conjoin

Adopted #thedirtythirty #poetrychallenge #poetry

 

Adopted

 

He is –

 

 

Murky breaths and midnight toenails

Perfect Tai Chi in between the walls

Headlight free and Sunday solid

He bends I told you so’s into spoons

 

 

                         – made in his mother’s image.

 

 

Silent in a father’s absence.

Light feet on cold floors

Old dreams starting new wars

Nothing in a name –

 

 

He’d like to ask. He doesn’t.

 

 

– but shame. Woven into brickwork clusters.

Filling in cardboard carpets and red flags.

A dented screen, a captured queen.

A ticking secret on the other end of an Instagram like.

 

 

He swallows.

He bends.

He –

 

 

                   – is.

 

 

*

Prompt: Free write Friday.

Day Eleven. #thedirtythirty #poetrychallenge

 

The heel holds the world together.

Sweat stained upper lip.

Moustache dream.

 

Fingers made into mountains.

Uncurl today.

This, then.

 

Eyebrows pierced, hungry now.

For laughter,

joy.

 

Knit watercolour

Made new.

 

Swelled sound mouths drown

Now.

 

We sleep full.

 

We weep.

 

I.

 

*

 

Day 11 Dirty Thirty Prompt

Write a poem about the Deadly Sin you feel you’re guilty of most but without telling us what it is.

 

So guesses- which Deadly Sin am I most guilty of?

 

Spill (another poem) #poetry

Spill:

 

Click.

Tap.

Yes.

No.

Then.

Oh.

Well.

So.

How?

Each –

Beep.

Split.

Sound.

Hit.

Press.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Then.

Yes.

More.

There.

Go.

Spill.

Yes.

There.

Now.

Them.

Us.

You.

Small.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Big.

Huge.

Vast.

Hard.

Go.

Quick.

Leave.

Close.

Cross.

Dive.

Drown.

 

*

Another #thedirtythirty prompt. Day 5: Write about something you don’t usually write about and don’t use cliche poem words (love, fire, soul, heart, etc.)

Theme/topic wise, I really couldn’t figure out what I don’t write so instead I went with form. I almost always write very wordy dreamy ‘pretty’ type things.

So instead this staccato stream….

A (romantic) love poem + LARP #thedirtythirty #nationalpoetrymonth

For Nic

 

The Song My Bathtub Sang For Me:

 

Your fingertips fold time

Seep into skin dreams

Weep open salt seams

An echo –

 

Caught, mid sentence

Knuckles bruised on memory

I capture you. You capture me.

We breathe

 

Black rope, raw hope.

The curve of a mouth

Second chance offered

A risk –

 

We are blended and bended

In years unraveled

Shared paths traveled

I chose.

 

You. I chose you.

Because –

 

Your fingertips fold time.

 

**

 

Today’s poem again inspired by ‘The Dirty Thirty Challenge’ daily prompt. Today’s prompt was a romantic love poem ending the poem with the same line you start with.

 

Bonus poem + mind chatter scribble inspired by the LARPing* event I took my 13year old to today:

The event was one of the fortnightly sessions run by the Southern Wilds LARP, an Adelaide based group. They have a come and try day coming up on Sunday 17th April if you are curious (it’s free). Details on their facebook group here.

I’m thinking I will join in too in future (though I can’t make the come and try day due to Manifold Portrait visit 3rd Sunday of every month).

*Live Action Role Play

Spectators #thedirtythirty #nationalpoetrymonth

Today’s poem inspired by a prompt from facebook poetry group ‘The Dirty Thirty Challenge’ – one poem a day for the thirty days of April.

 

Each day the facilitators of the group offer a prompt, today’s prompt was:

Grab the closest book on your shelf/desk/bed. Go to page 7.
Write down 5 words that stand out to you, and use at least 3 of those words in a poem

 

My response:

From page 7 of ‘Improvisation: The Guide’ by Lyn Pierse

The five words were: judged, panel, risk, crafted, spectators

 

Spectators:

The panel nests in song.
Strong.
Strong.
Their silence a gift.
A gift,
crafted in eyes and sighs.
A risk.
A risk forgiven.
A risk forgotten.
A risk, no more.