This morning I woke up and read the email from OctpoWriMo with today’s prompt in it. I actually don’t consider these prompts really, more like inspirations. Let’s throw something out there and see what transpires from it. A challenge isn’t a challenge if you just say write what you want. A challenge should have tasks you attempt and try to overcome. For some people, just writing every day is a challenge, and for others, like me, there might be enough distractions in your life that inspiration can be overwhelming. So, having these prompts gives me focus, and I’ve been enjoying seeing what I can come up with. Today’s challenge is to be inspired by poets who have gone before, and we are supposed to choose one of the quotes or pics and write about it. But nothing appealed to me. Instead, I did what I always do…I went my own way. I found my own poetry quote and used it to inspire me. And, technically, Michael Franti is older than me which means he has gone before me. So I’m well within the parameters of the challenge, at least in my own mind anyway. 😉 Today’s poem was also inspired by my best friend, Laura, who told me once, that I reach in and write what doesn’t want to be seen and I make it beautiful. Thank you, sweetie, for being my inspiration today. Also, today includes Day 5’s challenge which is supposed to be about autumn. I actually took a different turn on this. It’s not about autumn but was inspired by some of the word prompts for that day. Hope you enjoy and have a great Tuesday.
“Every single soul is a poem.”
I imagine myself reaching my hand inside your chest,
Like a ghost, vaporous, inconsistent as an incomplete thought.
Flesh and bone are as nothing and give way to my insubstantial hand,
Searching for your heart where all your deepest secrets and fears lie,
Hidden away in darkness, all of your desires, the guilty pleasures,
The dark and the light, that make up who you are,
That make up the truth of you, the truth you fear and wish to conceal.
I find what I look for, and gently scoop it into my hand,
Bringing it into the light of the world.
And as I slowly open my hand, I show you how beautiful you are,
Flawed and imperfect.
Then I set your soul free to soar in the world,
For I am a poet, and that is what I do.
By Jessica Scott
I held your hand, looked in your eyes,
We knew this day was coming.
We tried to stop it, tried to stop the lies;
We couldn’t see a new day dawning.
I steeled myself against your tears,
Set an autumn chill in my spine.
I wanted to be the one to end your fears,
You wanted me to shine.
But we couldn’t change who we are,
Though we tried to find a way.
A broken man and a fallen star,
A smoking gun, a dropped bouquet.
Now my blood spills on your dress,
A promise I couldn’t keep.
One last kiss, one soft caress,
And now, in death, I sleep.