Tag Archives: poem a day

A Massive Poem – Day 27 of April PAD

**
Albeit
streets are wise and wide
the massive
walking out
is now a hesitation
Dreams are wise, as well.

© 2020, forestlove
**

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Time – haiku

Time whooshes past the tree
where blossoms wake to beauty.
A sigh stops short.

(c) 2020 Mariya Koleva

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April PAD Countdown – No10 Time

A great initiative! We will have 10 days of countdown to April PAD! The prompt for today is Time.

Time
Time can be a monster and
Eat you up with its cold cruelty.
It can be a smooth killer
Gliding past your pain and embalming it.

Time flows in one direction,
Not always showing that it sees you,
Impassively walking the same path as you
Whistling, as it seems, to itself,
Humming or mumbling you know not what.

You move along glimpsing at the trees
That skip past you by the road.
Spring changes winter, summer comes, then autumn.
Time flows forward with a whisper.
The breeze wooshes past your ears,
Drying your eyes, muting your sobs.

Every now and then, you see a mirror
– the terrible physical object where
Time is stamped.

(c) Mariya Koleva, 2020

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Day 8 – A Poem that Hints at Something

Honestly, this poem doesn’t hint at anything. I can’t think of anything appropriate, so I’ll leave it as it is. I may not use it in my final chapbook version.
~~~
I bet you’re wondering
If you’ll be happy overall
And wanting to know how
Things will turn out.

I often did that, and sometimes
Still do.
Only now,I’m not that curious
It seems that apathy and age walk hand in hand.
~~~

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Day 4: Apologetic Poem

Today’s the day I apologise to my younger self that I didn’t manage to become what she always wanted.

~~~
For every breach of promise,
I apologise to you.
I see every step away from your dreams
As a breach.

Not only promises set in stone,
Signed with your name in bloody letters
In a book somewhere
Are important,

But dreams as well, your secret hopes
To be what I never rose to become

Going astray from them is bigger a breach,
I believe,
As it cuts to the quiver, as it betrays our deepest secret

I apologise for letting you down
And letting you turn into an everyday family thing
Instead of the herald, or the star, or the Captain Amazing
Which you are
In your heart.

(c) 2018, MK

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Day 3: Tired of… Poem

Tired of your know-it-all, nerdy reputation,
Will you try to be a different one?
One that looks for any hot-chick’s sensual elation,
That much needed when you want to ride on with the gang?

Will you try it many times,
Every time believing you’ll succeed?
Every time you reach to what you need,
Will you find you change your mind?

What other people have is their own, not fitting you.
My love, you’ll know your own,
Of course, you doubt it now, I know.
And doubt’s what makes us free to choose our path.

Walk blind and try to make your math.
Wondering about the aftermath.

03.11.2018

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Day 2: Darkest Hour Poem

Your darkest hour was
When you woke
Still absorbed in the cotton wool of illusion

When you banged against the thin needles
Decorating the otherwise ugly wall of disillusionment

Your soul was extracted from you with tongs
It hurt so much, you cried with no voice
The pain pushed you to the edge of an abyss
On the other side of which you’d see lava
And flames so white they froze you.

The tongs were cold, icy cold
And all inside you glued to them
When they were pulling at your soul
Extracting it.

So that you lost it
Tears felt out of place
The darkest hour – jumping the train to
The Happily-Ever-After dope.

03.11.2018

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Day 20 – A Task Poem

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.

©2017, MK
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NaPoWriMo

Day 19 Memory

Memory of Wheat
(shadorma)
Each summer
The ochre of wheat
Wakes me up.
Reminds me
Of the fields I used to see
When all earth was mine.

©2017, soulmary
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Poetry Month

Day 18 – Life/Death

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.

©2017, soulmary

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