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.


Something Goes Wrong

Something goes wrong when I get a party call
I want to stay home, but I also want to go

Either way, I am displeased:
If I go, I get so teased
by smokers, or the music, or the bar
When I skip, I nag till heaven falls apart.

So, there we have it, plain and clear:
“party” is a word I shouldn’t hear.

Just a little joke after the Wednesday prompt at Poetic Asides this week.

Learning the Ropes of a Trade

Learning the ropes of a trade

First, you see yourself as a master,
with all the glory awaiting you when learning is over.
Then, you dive in apprenticeship, and time slips away –
from chore to task, to duty, to struggle, and to frustration.

Until youngsters start asking “Why you joined?”
And you don’t know.

Learning the ropes of a trade is in reality tedious,
with no shine or glamour attached to its course.
Only masters finally know.


This short poetic piece was written in answer to Wednesday Prompt #449 dated 15 August 2018 – Learning … Poem.
Just keeping the juices in motion.

Password, acrostic

Hello and Happy New year 2018! That’s a valid thing to say throughout January, so I’m totally up-to-date. Here is something small for today.


Protocol requires that
All access is allowed in exchange for a
Suitable code –
Something cryptic
Only the chosen few can
Down the road

(c) 2018, MK

Did you recognise it? It’s an acrostic, and it was written for Poetic Asides, Wednesday Prompt #421. With plenty of cool verse over there.

Made Sense at the Time

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”

Glam Rock

I used the last March prompt (of 29.03) on the Poetic Asides site as a stretch out of my poetic muscles before the Poetry Month.

Glam Rock

With sweaty tops that burst in front
And too tight jeans with glistening beads,
The bands, with swirling joyful hops,
Leave their trace on our screens.

The rhythm – easy to adopt and share,
The lyrics – chanting through our souls.
The TVs glue our steamy stares
We hum along and love this song.

©2017, MK

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