Glamour is pouring out of pubs and clubs along the shoreline And the summer clamour Is everywhere around I get lost in the sweet and sour flavours Reaching my senses from the crowd Restaurants and Ferris wheels scream for joy Shall we dance until the crack of dawn? (c) 2023, soulmary
This poem was created with several prompts in mind: Wednesday Prompt 657: A summer poem, and you can see many others here As always, excellent works. Friday Writing 81: City dreaming, a blog for which I write for the first time. Poetic Bloomings 443: Shall we dance? But of course we’ll dance, why even ask 😉
That crashed near the shore all day. It’s near summer’s end. No risk of over sun exposure – Just the risk of regretting the insufficiency thereof.
I lay on a chair, all day, facing the waves that curled, rolled, thundered, whitened and crashed in billions of snow-white drops that stole rainbow shine during their erratic flight.
The wave crests are like the snow hurrying with terrible might down the mountain hill – an avalanche where whipped cream breaks in multiple white particles, dust-like, and sparkling off with rainbow shine over their frightening fall.
(c) MK, 2019
Written for Poetic Asides, Wednesday Prompt #495 – For …
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.
Wednesday at Poetic Asides, Prompt #275 – Upside Down Poem
*** I need to write an upside-down poem – the moment I spotted the prompt, I rushed towards it, as I still remember how very often I felt like that, I remembered how strongly I related to the cliche, to the awkwardness, to the confusion.
I rushed to open a new word doc to simply see:
my life has stopped its topsy-turvy movement, it’s lost its gullible and musing edge that used to threaten to kick me off my balance and leave me stranded, upside down on a barren, unfamiliar piece of soul-land.
I realised my life has calmed, has settled down, has gained its weight and lost its unsteadiness that once made me on egde, afraid of the dark, and adventurously alive.
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 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.
It’s been a long time, a little over a year, since I’ve been playing along with the Poetic Asides Wednesday prompts. It has been always one thing or another that would stop me. Now, I quite accidentally managed to check in on the website and saw the prompt: #239, October 2nd, and here I go:
I was asked to be myself Really hard. It’s a task, I considered for a while, for years, in fact.
What would define me? Or, what could?
Once I asked to be like everybody, but gradually, I came to realise That there is no ‘everybody’ that will put the boundaries of normal into my mind frame.