The Secret Admirer of the Spare Star
Who will approach the spare star
and wonder at its glitter?
Maybe the one who walks among the fields
without despising the gutter or the lane,
the split honour of being second best.
Roll like thunder,
release its lights –
the flashy line of godly might!
When all is dead and over,
you’ll pin the star to the museum wall
for visitors to stare bluntly into it.
(c) 2017, MK
Always enjoying the wordle poems. This one was written for the #331 Wordle Prompt on Brenda’s blog. I guess that’s the case with everybody, because you never know where words can take you in their whim.
Image from Carpe Diem Blog Site
No Time To Waste
A drop with a thousand
colours of light –
Frozen in the winter world.
(c) 2017, Mariya Koleva
I have long been absent from my friend’s haiku prompt blog, Carpe Diem Haiku Kai, but today’s haiku was written for his prompt #1332 No Time To Waste, taking inspiration from one thousand spectacular nuances of the water drop magnificence. Smiles.
18th May, 1995
A note with tear stains on it,
heart-rending, in my mind.
Most probably, just cheesy.
I locked it in a case, thinking I hid it well.
It made perfect sense at the time:
my move, the note, its hiding place.
I never saw the note again,
I roughly remember what it said.
I saw deaths after that, but no one saw mine.
When I look back, it made perfect sense. At the time.
I still wonder where the note is.
(c) Mariya Koleva, 2017
This poem was written for Poetic Asides Wednesday Prompt # 419 – “made sense at the time”
A Slippery Tongue
The lock chain was broken
all minutes flew away
in hysteric flurry.
A runner sent to look for them
lost all idea of time,
hard reality hit him in the back
(good his hour glass survived)
until he dropped in the grass,
his pants turning unwashable green.
The slippery tongue of the bell
dispelled shock to scanty listeners –
the village was dispopulated.
A boy with just one shoe
sat calmly in front of the late cinema screen
holding a shard in his hands.
Our broken lock chain,
which helped the minutes go away,
and then the years, then today.
(c) Mariya Koleva, 2017
This poem was written for Brenda’s Wordle prompt #330. Prompt there are used to bring extra pleasure, because of the variety of courses they can take.
Fire and Ice
Fire and Ice, or We, in a Devastated Land
our fire is still consuming.
the ice on the winter ground will melt.
What will be left of us,
in this devastated land
where emptiness wears us down?
(c) Mariya K, 2017
This was written after the prompt at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, for December 16, 2017
After a long period of silence, it is time for the Wednesday prompt once again! Here is what I wrote this week:
While whiling away the dullest of days
I stopped to consider why I never stop.
The clouds above hid behind curtains of rain,
the ceilings committed numerous crimes:
the sun was all blocked
and stifled – the air,
a sickening yellow was all I could see.
So, that’s how the soul goes –
no drama or loudness,
but simply complicit
to its own self loss.
?©soulmary 09 Dec 2017
My poem was written on a prompt by Poetic Asides, a Writers Digest editor blog. Wednesday Prompt #417
Day 24 A Faith Poem
The hardest favour to ask,
Blindly, against all hope.
Waiting patiently despite all facts.
A favour I’m not prepared to do.
A Picture of a Depressed Person
The simplest task
Will get me tired.
The lightest load
Seems hard to bear.
And it’s the darkest night
That only brings me rest.
Tasks are overwhelming
For the depressed.
Memory of Wheat
The ochre of wheat
Wakes me up.
Of the fields I used to see
When all earth was mine.
Of life, it’s easy to write.
Of death – even easier.
It’s the actions themselves
That are hard to perform
In a way that will make them
Worthy the spill of that ink.