Divided in the Whole

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

United in November

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 …

United Poem
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
By mid-October.

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

The Morning After: A Wednesday Poetry Prompt

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:

 

Image: xxxiriacynthexxx
Image: xxxiriacynthexxx

The Morning After
I drank a full bottle of vodka with you
staring in your eyes, taking in all your words
of encouragement,
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
first time
getting
drunk.

The perfectly stoned Sisters of Mercy fan
nowhere to be seen.

©2014, MK

Written for the Wednesday Prompt at Poetic Asides, #274 – A Disappointment Poem and shared on the site.

Washing Age Away

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
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

Note:
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

Come With Me

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!

carry-on-tues

Come with me, I said,
as if to no one
The breeze alone would
whistle soft by me.

Come with me, I whispered
in detachment.
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
only
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
summer nap.

© 2013, Mariya Koleva

Places Change (and Stretch)

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:

100

###

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

Loudly In Sotto-Voce

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,

Is here.

 

© 2013 soul mary

Full Moon

Today is the second day of the month of November, famous for its sugar and caffeine flavour. Taking part in the November Poem-A-Day Chapbook challenge I still am and here is today’s prompt: Full Moon. It has been suggested by Khara House, who is an amazing poet, so click on her name and see more. Here is my poem. Yet another “moon” poem. But, honestly, this one took a different turn.

Image credit: Wikipedia


Full Moon—

as in complete, accomplished,

and perfectly shaped

to raise our dreams or apprehensions,

to feed our mystic cravings, and to

whisper in our darkened nooks

of weirdness unseen, unwaited for, and

un-desired – uneasiness awakened.

For, after all, we are just beings

bathed in profuse light,

clinging to the hope that

light will not desert us

to that full moon’s full-flavoured grip.

© soulmary

Time

Tackle It Tuesday, Time

***

Ticking and wasting

Time waits for its running end

Until we wake up

© Mariya Koleva, 2012

Revelation

September Heights #14 – Revelation

 ***

Amidst the dense fog

Burns a flower with no name

Another day lives.

*

A kitten curls up

Looks around to see the world

Same as I see it.

 © 2012 soulmary