Hand Made
“Mandalas’ Sands”
silently awaken
Hope
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/just-a-dream/”>Just a Dream” title=”Haiku Just Dreams (Rice Bowls)”>
Rice Bowls (Just Dreams)
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Day 7(Fingers) Split Ends
Complicated as brushing maybe.Parting hairs was the least of their worries.Unleavened bread will be buttered with sunken stories. Told by the ancestors, drumming pasts slumber and sleep.Rumbling giants speaking into the deep.Plumbing through youthful cries, burdens no mans able to gutter. Oh inner guide, please do not stutter,plain speech, I beseech you utter.
Today’s device assonance,form is poetry prose I tried with using (U sound ) The meaning is related to a dream I had of the drum sound in my sleep. Happy Writing…
Day 5 (Fog) Crystal
Naw,naw naw.
Don’t go crying down my kitchen sink.
Shadow-calling God in Make believe.
Somewhere past the moon squares.
Where men are made of snow.
Fiery rains a comin,
Ya can’t fix stupid, everywhere you go.
Poetry Writing Challenge Fog-Today’s form, the elegy ,poetic device Metaphor
(Day 4 Animal)Queenie
Her name was Queenie
I watched her,
swallow down her babies,
then I thought
A mother who consumes her young
Watch out,
Life is Crazy…
true story when I was a kid, My dog must have been sick or maybe the puppies…
Poetry challenge to write about an animal
Day 3 (Trust): Colors of Skin
Skipping light,gotta find time to be,
Kind,letting go suicidal humming;she’ll rise above, wrinkled lines.
If she could only see, the colors in her own glass.
Never then, would she pretend to be trapped, instead she’d be free.
Today’s word is trust:Writing Poetry 201 Challenge
To trust myself is a challenge after so many falls and let downs…(trusting the skin I’m in)
Happy writing….
Day 2, (Journey) All I have…
Can it Be?
Borrowed Love.
And she ain’t dead.
Inside my head.
Stupidly sitting.
.
On highways left side.
But she can’t spare, her own socks full of sorrows,
all because,
she borrowed love.
Day 2,Journey
(Day 1: Haiku) Bones Made of Water
Mystical Well
side bones,
Brought me here,
like jazz and blues
I dig in high waters…
When my soul speaks
She was not just a pretty orange to peel.Her vitamin c, drove back the mucus of icicles.
Hacking deeply like rusty faucets,
sputtering brown,
then yellow ,almost pasty clear.
She would not quit, come too far in the snow.
Open the oceans wide and you’ll find me.
In the arms of hope,
I’m finding my way to life….
Humble Sense
Black Waters Spice,
You do something nice,
A comfy currant with cinnamons and cayenne.
Inside my Low-days,
Fishy-grey thoughts.
I do blame,
wash away with Lavender & Sage.
My black waters spice
I found my happy, smells good too…
A little More (Day 5 Napowrimo
It was more than a sickness.
It was more than love,
more than,
fear and faith;
it was more than a date.
This thing and I;
more than still-toed shoes
dancing good bye.
God and I,
became lovers,
became joy,
became sweet buttermilk coffee
together without exasperation.
More than a swimmers smile
more than death, more than life,
I am a conqueror,
this God and I.
Poet: Krissy Mosley
A Poet's Vision 