Tag: April poetry

Trope Poem – Day 21 of April PAD

Today, Writer’s Digest offered the prompt of writing a trope poem. I checked the list of Horror Stories tropes and chose two of them.

***
On a dark, starless night
we were reading a horror story
about a lab where nerds did find
a way to paint our town red – so gory.

The trouble was that dead won’t die,
and they won’t bleed more, either.
The chance for us was just to hide
but where – hey, we’d lived together.

Another trouble – double pain
the bad won’t die, they’re just unbeaten.
All we could do was futile pray
although none did believe it’ll deliver.

So, dawn did come
With it, the light
They brought naught
We slipped away
in slumber
for our prayers
were not duly answered.

I hope this text survives
to get into your hands
and be read aloud,
to honour our attempt to fight.

©2024, soulmary

A Six-Word Poem for Day 20, April PAD

***
Universe Is Larger Than We Think

***
Hearing praises
Universe grudges its collar.

©2024, soulmary

Emotions Haunt Poem – Day 19, April PAD

Emotions Haunt Me
They never let me rest
They constantly obsess
my days
and they possess
all
possible control
and power

Haunting me like ghosts
hurling me from heaven high
to dusky lows.
Haunted and hunted
I belong to them
and they to me
Until one sets the other free
Whenever will that be?

© 2024, soulmary

Just a Joke – Day 18.2 of April PAD

***
I Have To Be A Guitar Player In KISS
If I am a KISS player
I’ll get to wear
the most fearsome make-up
which will make up
for worries and low self-esteem
Relying on others to bring
and keep up my spirits
will be the lowest possible
point I could ever dream
of.

© 2024, soulmary

Notes: Yes, it’s a joke after the nice prompt at NaPoWriMo.net.

It’s a Shadorma – Anti-Form for Day 16 of April PAD

Day 16 is a Tuesday, so Robert offers another cute Two-For-Tuesday prompt. We need to write a Form and/or an Anti-Form poem. Curiously, I wrote a Shadorma which calls for breaking the form. Yeah, that’s me. Enjoy!

***
Break all
forms we use to poem.
Just lose them.

Focus on
what is in your very heart
and the rhyme will flow.

© 2024, soulmary

Do I See and Hear Fear? – Day 17 of April PAD

Today, I am writing an independent poem for April Poem-A-Day challenge. Meaning, I’m not following a prompt. This poem came to me following something unpleasant happening in a close friend’s personal life. Plus, fear is always a thing, isn’t it?
Here it is:

***
Amidst the noise
of thunder
and the tears in
my soul,
I can still hear
the whisper of
the sea –
the magnificent
and frightening sea,
washing the empty beaches,
smoothing the coast,
caressing the abandoned sands.

Among all the colour
of people running around in hectic
panic and haze
wondering why they do it and
when
they can stop to rest,
I can still see
the long shadow thrown
by the tall pine tree
at the edge of that forest
which I knew as a girl.
The forest that lulled me
to tears and sweetness
together.
The forest that cooled me
and scared me with
indistinct figures and sighs.

Do I generally hear
of see just fear?
Mostly fear.
My own, lovely fear.

© 2024, soulmary

Starry Night and In the Middle – Days 14-15

Hi, this time I post two Days’ poems in one post, not just because I penned them late, but also because they somehow belong together. For the Day 14, I drew inspiration from one of my favourite Van Gogh’s pictures – Starry Night. The next prompt took me to ‘the middle’. I hope you will enjoy both!

***
Starry Night
Anyone’s dreams – roam
among the stars
as we see them –
twinkling
at night.

Above lakes and territories
where turmoil and peace
take turns.
Over tragedies and petty worries
replacing the happy love
which burns.

High, clear, lucid, detached
from all that brings woe
to our hearts.

Yet also detached from all
that gives us reasons to go on
treading the soil
of mundaneness below.

***
So, get in the middle
That’s always the best.
Extremes bring too much of everything
When you’re between, you’re at rest.

Maybe they won’t see you
Perhaps they won’t respect
Whatever you stand for
and what you expect.

When you rest – it that for the best?

©2024, soulmary

Living – Day 13 of April PAD

***
Living with the squids
brings flexibility to the surface
of our minds.

Living with the wolves
teaches us how to catch pray
and be merciless.

Living with the butterflies
allows us to flex and change
in ways we don’t control.

Living with people
tosses us in the jungle
where no rules or laws
will function.

Living alone
frees us from all worries
just to drag us into
the dessert of nothingness
which is also
a lack of all meaning.

What’s best, you’ll ask?
Living is what matters most.

*
A Cat Living Nine Lives

Is that true?
If yes, how come we don’t
see the same cat again?
If no, how come we all
repeat this?

*
©2024, soulmary

Funny Tall Tale Poem – Day 12 of April PAD

Today, the two prompts were very interesting and difficult to follow. Robert at Writer’s Digest prompted us to write a Funny Poem, and the NaPoWriMo site asked for an attempt at a Tall Tale Poem (you know, the type of David Crocket stories). Here’s what I wrote, although I doubt it’s either funny or doing any justice to the tall-tale genre. The latter has always been a favourite of mine, but at the same time, the one I have never been particularly good at.

***
The circus came –
Clowns more frightening than funny,
All thanks to good old Stephen.

Children thought they’d better spend
their time creating heroes.

With costumes green and purple or bizarre,
with eyes so big and grinning lips,
their hands were shovels, some were rakes,
legs were particularly difficult to make.

Then look – the next day
all the forest was live with laughter
echoing throughout the village,
mixed with screams and shouts.

The circus stayed a month
The children’s heroes played around
Brimming with the joy they’ve found.

©2024, soulmary

Memories and Monostich – Day 11 of April PAD

Memories often bump in me
like balls sliding on fast tracks
or toys hurled by toddlers.

Sometimes they bounce off happily
causing smiles and leaving me bright.

Some, though, stick – thick and heavy,
reluctant to move on,
simply clinging to me
as cannonballs in damp clay.

They give me goosebumps,
or visions of dark.
The love of darkness
is overwhelming.

***
Belittling bad memories has never brought about the joy we hoped it would.

©2024, soulmary

Note: Both pieces are on the topic given by Writer’s Digest Prompt for the day – Memory. The second one is a Monostich after NaPoWriMo.net prompt for the day.