thes
e
feel
ing
s a
re ju
st too
much;
i can't
seem to
sto
p mys
elf fro
m sp
ill
ing
al
l
ov
er
2017-04-19 11.25am
Showing posts with label 121-130. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 121-130. Show all posts
129: NaPoWriMo Day 7: pauper prince
Given by The Dirty Thirty Challenge: What does the billionaire wish for? #2017inkedwallsprompt07
via Spill the Ink Poetry Lab
---
when the earth keeps spinning and you wish it would stop
via Spill the Ink Poetry Lab
---
when the earth keeps spinning and you wish it would stop
when the pearly mansions have rooms that are more than enough
when food is abundant but there are no other mouths to feed
the only thing missing then are friends in deed.
2017-04-09 10.46pm
2017-04-09 10.46pm
128: NaPoWriMo Day 6: fairweathered
Day 6 Prompt
via Spill the Ink Poetry Lab
Write a poem written from your shadow's perspective.
Share us where is its fave place, and what does it think about you.
BONUS 1: use a social media format (Facebook statuses, Twitter, Instagram, or text messages).
#2017inkedwallsprompt06
---
she thinks
i'm a fairweather friend
because i'm only around when it's bright
and nowhere to be seen when it's dark.
she feels betrayed by me
but i wish she could see and hear
how ridiculous she sounds,
because
you see,
she goes by many names throughout the day
while i have none.
i guess there isn't any reason to
since i wouldn't be able to respond to anyone even if i did.
because no one speaks to you when all you can offer is silence.
you see,
the only world i know is hers and hers alone:
i can't hear anything because i have have ears
i can't see anything because i have no eyes
i can't feel anything because i have no brain, no skin, no heart
i can't do anything much, really
except for follow her around.
you see,
i was born with her against my will
and i live on even after she dies.
how is this fair?
she can't see
that darkness is where i call home.
where i rightfully belong,
with my kind.
you see,
i've never thought of her as a friend.
she can't see
that i am her captive.
2017-04-06 7.37pm
via Spill the Ink Poetry Lab
Write a poem written from your shadow's perspective.
Share us where is its fave place, and what does it think about you.
- Does your shadow listen to the same music?
- Does your shadow not like poems?
- Does your shadow want to take charge, for once?
- What would your shadow do?
BONUS 1: use a social media format (Facebook statuses, Twitter, Instagram, or text messages).
#2017inkedwallsprompt06
---
she thinks
i'm a fairweather friend
because i'm only around when it's bright
and nowhere to be seen when it's dark.
she feels betrayed by me
but i wish she could see and hear
how ridiculous she sounds,
because
you see,
she goes by many names throughout the day
while i have none.
i guess there isn't any reason to
since i wouldn't be able to respond to anyone even if i did.
because no one speaks to you when all you can offer is silence.
you see,
the only world i know is hers and hers alone:
i can't hear anything because i have have ears
i can't see anything because i have no eyes
i can't feel anything because i have no brain, no skin, no heart
i can't do anything much, really
except for follow her around.
you see,
i was born with her against my will
and i live on even after she dies.
how is this fair?
she can't see
that darkness is where i call home.
where i rightfully belong,
with my kind.
you see,
i've never thought of her as a friend.
she can't see
that i am her captive.
2017-04-06 7.37pm
127: NaPoWriMo Day 5: soup
I would swallow my words,
but only if they were served at the right time.
Perhaps, they can be garnished with mint and lime
to clear the stench of those that keep entering my mind;
I'm done with rotting flesh and sentences with slime.
In an effort to keep my new
lingua diet, I try hard to not be compromising;
my alphabets will be sauted with ginger, garlic, and cumin
and instead of plain water, I'll use the stock I'd been boiling.
I need even the soupbowl to be worth licking.
In fact, how about some dessert?
Unlike food for the body, I like food for thought served cold
and I have plenty of pennies for those that could
offer phrases with flavors and scents more bold
than most of the junk I grew up being told.
via PoetryCafeKL 6.01pm
---
Late (Day 5) prompt again, sorry! Here we go!
#pckl #day5 #napowrimo #npwm
Initially poem was yummier, but I forgot to keep the lid on, so... this burnt piece haha. 😅
---
Prompt Day 5
There is a very strong relationship between Malaysians and food, don't you agree?
For today's prompt, look at the poster (in the comments section!) from NaPoWriMo 2015 based on the poem "Eating Poetry" by Mark Strand.
In your writing, tell us how would you eat poetry.
Possible ideas on how to write:
Happy writing!
but only if they were served at the right time.
Perhaps, they can be garnished with mint and lime
to clear the stench of those that keep entering my mind;
I'm done with rotting flesh and sentences with slime.
In an effort to keep my new
lingua diet, I try hard to not be compromising;
my alphabets will be sauted with ginger, garlic, and cumin
and instead of plain water, I'll use the stock I'd been boiling.
I need even the soupbowl to be worth licking.
In fact, how about some dessert?
Unlike food for the body, I like food for thought served cold
and I have plenty of pennies for those that could
offer phrases with flavors and scents more bold
than most of the junk I grew up being told.
via PoetryCafeKL 6.01pm
---
Late (Day 5) prompt again, sorry! Here we go!
#pckl #day5 #napowrimo #npwm
Initially poem was yummier, but I forgot to keep the lid on, so... this burnt piece haha. 😅
---
Prompt Day 5
There is a very strong relationship between Malaysians and food, don't you agree?
For today's prompt, look at the poster (in the comments section!) from NaPoWriMo 2015 based on the poem "Eating Poetry" by Mark Strand.
In your writing, tell us how would you eat poetry.
Possible ideas on how to write:
- Think of your favourite food. Describe eating it, but replace the ingredients with other words/phrases related to poetry.
- The digestive system does not stop between lips and throat. Describe the journey your poem takes throughout the whole body.
- Eating is a way to gain nourishment. But are there other reasons we eat?
- Begin your poem with, "I would swallow my words, but..."
Happy writing!
126: NaPoWriMo Day 4: Still I Survive
Day 4's prompt, re: Maya Angelou's Still I Rise.
#pckl #day4 #napowrimo #npwm
---
My emotions twist and turn from troposphere heights to oceanbed lows;
sometimes I ✈ through and over ☁s and between 🌈s
other times I'm ⚓ed and suffocating with nowhere to go.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My mind is a circus with a one-way admission;
the 🎡 keeps me grounded, 🎢 pumps my adrenaline
but I keep getting lost in 👻 mazes of inhibitions.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My 💓 is an organ everbeating and overbattered;
keep being insisted that sticks and stones may only break bones but i doubt
there's sense in leaving verbal wounds untended, as blood keeps oozing out.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My chest is "endowed" which oft-translates to "My D wants your D";
because the chances of being cupped by 👹 on the street
are ridiculously higher than finding a cup with the right fit.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My legs are my vehicle to escape with an expiring key
they allow me to 🏃 and jump and 💃 and get down and dirty
but Doc said I'll have messed up knees by the time I hit thirty.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
---
Sorry for the late post! I had the idea yesterday but it took a while for the words to materialise in my head.
#pckl #day4 #napowrimo #npwm
---
My emotions twist and turn from troposphere heights to oceanbed lows;
sometimes I ✈ through and over ☁s and between 🌈s
other times I'm ⚓ed and suffocating with nowhere to go.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My mind is a circus with a one-way admission;
the 🎡 keeps me grounded, 🎢 pumps my adrenaline
but I keep getting lost in 👻 mazes of inhibitions.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My 💓 is an organ everbeating and overbattered;
keep being insisted that sticks and stones may only break bones but i doubt
there's sense in leaving verbal wounds untended, as blood keeps oozing out.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My chest is "endowed" which oft-translates to "My D wants your D";
because the chances of being cupped by 👹 on the street
are ridiculously higher than finding a cup with the right fit.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
My legs are my vehicle to escape with an expiring key
they allow me to 🏃 and jump and 💃 and get down and dirty
but Doc said I'll have messed up knees by the time I hit thirty.
Barely alive, but still I survive.
---
Sorry for the late post! I had the idea yesterday but it took a while for the words to materialise in my head.
125: NaPoWriMo Day 3: early departed
lids flutter open, close, half-open, squint; light glaring between the curtains, visually reminding it's rise and shine o'clock.
plop facedown into pillow to find workpants underneath, somehow slept on. moanday? great.
roll over to one side; moments pass and eyes eventually adjust to less-dimming room.
wait a minute.
turn to windowside to see it's quite bright out. but the alarms haven't gone off yet so maybe it's not that lat--"SHIT phone is dead, shitshitshit!"
iron crumpled pants,
grab hung top, sniff matching scarves
towel, on! mask? check! gooo
#pckl #day3 #napowrimo #npwm
1.57pm
via Poetry Cafe KL
----
Basically, haibun is the combination of two poems: a prose poem and haiku. For example:
In the shadow of the Nevado del Ruiz, rice farmers woke as if on any other morning. Their daily pleasures and worries were the same as always. Even the smoke and eruptions that afternoon were familiar—though masked by a thunderstorm—no one aware of the approaching lahars.
not the sound
but drops of rain
scatter ants
- 1985, by Robert Lee Brewer
We sometimes take routine things for granted. Your prompt for today is to write in haibun form, the short journey from your bed to the bathroom door. Note what you can see, hear, feel, touch, and smell and surprise us!
For a further guide on how to write haibun, here's a free PDF: http://www.hsa-haiku.org/EducationalResources/Guidelines-for-Writing-Haibun.pdf
Don't forget to tag your poems with #pckl #day3 #napowrimo #npwm after/before writing using this prompt!
plop facedown into pillow to find workpants underneath, somehow slept on. moanday? great.
roll over to one side; moments pass and eyes eventually adjust to less-dimming room.
wait a minute.
turn to windowside to see it's quite bright out. but the alarms haven't gone off yet so maybe it's not that lat--"SHIT phone is dead, shitshitshit!"
iron crumpled pants,
grab hung top, sniff matching scarves
towel, on! mask? check! gooo
#pckl #day3 #napowrimo #npwm
1.57pm
via Poetry Cafe KL
----
Prompt:
Almost everyone knows what's a haiku, but can you write in haibun form?Basically, haibun is the combination of two poems: a prose poem and haiku. For example:
In the shadow of the Nevado del Ruiz, rice farmers woke as if on any other morning. Their daily pleasures and worries were the same as always. Even the smoke and eruptions that afternoon were familiar—though masked by a thunderstorm—no one aware of the approaching lahars.
not the sound
but drops of rain
scatter ants
- 1985, by Robert Lee Brewer
We sometimes take routine things for granted. Your prompt for today is to write in haibun form, the short journey from your bed to the bathroom door. Note what you can see, hear, feel, touch, and smell and surprise us!
For a further guide on how to write haibun, here's a free PDF: http://www.hsa-haiku.org/EducationalResources/Guidelines-for-Writing-Haibun.pdf
Don't forget to tag your poems with #pckl #day3 #napowrimo #npwm after/before writing using this prompt!
123: NaPoWriMo Day 1: elaboracronymed
intensely feels but tries to refrain
zesty, feisty but covered in plain
zany but typically the same
agitated if provoked, but tame
trying but tried with a lot of stuff
yet I never seem to be enough.
#2017inkedwallsday1
#2017inkedwallsprompt01
A bit late oh well! 😅 #zspilledink
32017-04-03, 9.01am
via Spill the Ink Poetry Lab
---
#2017inkedwallsprompt01
zesty, feisty but covered in plain
zany but typically the same
agitated if provoked, but tame
trying but tried with a lot of stuff
yet I never seem to be enough.
#2017inkedwallsday1
#2017inkedwallsprompt01
A bit late oh well! 😅 #zspilledink
32017-04-03, 9.01am
via Spill the Ink Poetry Lab
---
Prompt:
Write an Acrostic Poem of your name#2017inkedwallsprompt01
posted from Bloggeroid
💜💜💜122: In a house with lacey white curtains
In our house with lacey white curtains
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and florals were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with fashionistas, not action figures;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my head is more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.
In my house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of lace and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.
2021-03-26 8.11pm
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and florals were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with fashionistas, not action figures;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my head is more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.
In my house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of lace and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.
2021-03-26 8.11pm
In our house with lacey white curtains
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and florals were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with Barbies, not Batman;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my headis more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.
In my house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of lace and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.
2017-09-16 7.11pm
---
In a house with lacey white curtains
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and flowers were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with Barbie, not Batman;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my head
is more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of laces and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.
2017-04-01, 12.18pm
(during Baraka Blue workshop at Rumah Khizanat)
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and florals were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with Barbies, not Batman;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my headis more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.
In our house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.
In my house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of lace and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.
2017-09-16 7.11pm
---
In a house with lacey white curtains
and a living room with flowers
- fresh, frail, framed, or fake -
laces and flowers were expected
to be displayed at all times
in appearance, and in character.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
girls are to play with Barbie, not Batman;
as if skirts and shields are mutually exclusive,
as if Barbies and Batmans aren't just dolls
with different styles and accessories.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
my ability to walk face forward in heels
with a dictionary on my head
is more important than facing a heel
head on in a combat.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
my womb is reason enough to carry a life
but not to determine my own.
In a house with lacey white curtains,
I am not made of laces and flowers.
And my womb is my internal tomb.
2017-04-01, 12.18pm
(during Baraka Blue workshop at Rumah Khizanat)
posted from Bloggeroid
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