After warming up those limbs in the sauna,
lying in a pool of mineral water,
still feeling the hot steam,
I cast a lazy eye at the mountain peaks
standing proud across the field.
Standing proud across the field,
I cast a lazy eye at the mountain peaks
still feeling the hot steam,
lying in a pool of mineral water
after warming up those limbs in the sauna.
This poetic piece was written in response to d’Verse Poets prompt from 16 August 2018. Just keeping up the game, nothing serious.
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
This prompt is not very new. I remember writing to it at least once before. I wasn’t happy with the result. The poem you see is the second one I wrote today because I didn’t like my first attempt. I think it was nearly the same as the original one, though I can’t bear to start checking that now.
Once upon a Writing class
The autumn went in through the glass
The warm sun spilled its orange softness
All around the silent room, full of eager listeners.
It felt just like one day in summer
When the sun rays somehow squeezed between my eyelashes
Like silvery sparks,
The sun was brighter then,
And I could see and feel the water glitches
hopping up and down and
Side to side before my very eyes
The professor’s voice was dim and pleasant
In its monotony of steady knowledge
Made me wish I had the same steadiness in everything:
beliefs, ideas, expression.
You know, the overall impression one gives away.
I listened to the voice, and saw the summer sun beams
Still squeezing between the leaves of autumn
Not with regret, or a feeling of incompleteness –
Things were perfect then.
© 2015, MK
I rarely write the second poem for the two-for-Tuesday prompts. To be honest, I never do. I guess this time I did because it’s still the beginning of the month and I have a lot of enthusiasm about it. Here is the Divided poem for Day 3 of the November Poem-a-day challenge.
Divided in the Whole
There are small crevices
In my heart’s feeling of completeness,
Dividing the whole into gentle microscopic particles
Or just ordinary small pieces
Which somehow stand together,
But aren’t similar at all.
(c) 2015, MK
That title should actually be “United in October” because that’s when the academic year starts here, and that’s my main reference in this poem. But, since it IS November and this is my original Poem-A-Day month, the title is what it is. Today is Tuesday and as tradition has it, Robert gives two prompts for poetry.
The prompts for today are United poem and Divided poem. Here is the …
Every first school day was like a comeback
From another life.
I would shake off the summer glitches and follies
and unite with my old gang
of undergraduate intellectuals.
All of us speaking of literature,
All of us thinking of languages,
All of us living in books.
The total melt-in was usually over
Occasional weekends would sweep me
Back to my summer time world
Of coke sipping through a straw
Now done in smoky bars,
Everybody wearing leather jackets and long sleeves
Instead of their denim shorts.
Looking way more like real rockers
Than misguided teenagers playing grown-ups.
© MK, 2015
Here is a teenage snap. I love such summer prompts that get me so many years back. Though it was a bitter experience, now it’s just a sweet petit bonbon in the candy box of youth. Smiles:
The Morning After
I drank a full bottle of vodka with you
staring in your eyes, taking in all your words
while listening to the Sisters of Mercy,
getting convinced by a perfectly stoned girl
that is perfection itself,
and was violently sick and stupid,
after I found my idiotic crescendo
in an attempted chat with
my new replacement,
I woke up, my head – the battleground
for millions exclusively armed with cannons,
to see you having coffee and small talk
with her again
gossiping about my
The perfectly stoned Sisters of Mercy fan
nowhere to be seen.
Written for the Wednesday Prompt at Poetic Asides, #274 – A Disappointment Poem and shared on the site.
Today, I took a rapid look at my WordPress stream and chose a wordle prompt. Below are the process notes. Here is the ‘Washing’ wordle poem:
Image taken from We Write Poems blog
Washing my hands of the flowing tea,
I saw the defects age has brought over them;
Swollen ring-fingers and sandstoned palms
ripe with fear, logic and applause.
The flaked mirage lacks clarity and my heart fell,
suddenly muddled by the silly scent teabags raise when wet –
not spirit-filled, but casually transplanted in the natural self
of the sink drain.
Today, that story is a mere waste –
far from the library dreams, just as blinds cover
the dusk inside.
©2014, Mariya Koleva
The poem was written to We write Poems #9 wordle blockbuster prompt. Here is the word pool:
washing blinds swollen defective omen ring shell waste steering fruit riddled spirit-filled suddenly fear logic sandstone silly Sewanee mirage flaked scent rings notch inside muddled applause sodden touts natural self transplant story ham library dreams casually scams heart dusk clarity today turtle age sustains woolen palms please ripe flowing tea
Here is a new piece I wrote for a prompt at Carry On Tuesday, a site where I haven’t contributed for a long time. The other poems I have written after Keith’s prompts can be found here, here and here. Enjoy!
Carry On Tuesday #204
If you would like to read the original poem: Come With Me, I Said And No One Knew (VII) by Pablo Neruda, click here!
Come with me, I said,
as if to no one
The breeze alone would
whistle soft by me.
Come with me, I whispered
I’m going home, I thought
alone if that’s to be.
Alone, in that bright day
in sunny August
the afternoon of tall grass
and blue skies
That hushed wheat field endured
the hum of bumblebees and
orange tint of peace.
Come with me, as I stroll lonely
into a fairy tale
I saw through my closing lashes
before I let myself
into the heavy honey of
© 2013, Mariya Koleva
Happy to say the Sunday Whirl has its 100th weekly prompt on! Thanks to Brenda and her dedication, we are able to enjoy this wonderful community, to write more poems and to enjoy even more 🙂
Here is the wordle:
Places change, they stretch and faint
in time when trains arrive to share
calls sombre, well-behaved,
and weird words.
They create and master our mood.
Out on the street we blindly brood –
a silent march
Where places change
to never die.
© 2013 Mariya Koleva
Poetic Bloomings #98
Mean What You Say… sort of – The very fun prompt suggested by Walt comprises a list of words whose antonyms we are supposed to use to make our poems.
### Here are the original suggestions and then, my chosen antonyms ###
impair – sanction;
timidity – boldness;
chaste – corrupted;
sober – naive;
power – weakness;
loudly – sotto-voce;
angel – demon;
transparent – obscure;
skulduggery – purity;
problem – strength
Springtime boldness of desire, sanctioning our weakness,
Corrupted, though naive, just whispering
In sotto-voce, like a demon struggling
To obscure our judgment, our better wisdom
And fighting back the purity of frost
The silent strength of winter in our souls,
© 2013 soul mary