NaPoWriMo Day 12: My Dear Poem

Prompt: Write a poem that addresses itself or some aspect of its self (i.e., “Dear Poem,” or “what are my quatrains up to?”; “Couplet, come with me . . .”)

My dear poem,

What is it that you seek,
As you flow from my chest and leak,
Onto the keyword with wild speed,
To bring forth emotions and make me bleed.

My dear poem,

What is your purpose here,
To bring chaos, to awaken fear,
To challenge, to make one think,
Or simply to push the limits of the brink.

My dear poem,

You pry pain and loss,
Of shattered dreams and the cost,
You scream voice of the forgotten,
The ones who left me to be rotten.

My dear poem,

What do you hope to convey,
A message, a warning, or a way,
To stir the soul and heart of all,
Or simply to make the reader appall.

My dear poem,

Who do you speak to,
The young, the old, the wise, the new,
To all who seek to understand,
Or those who are just damned.

My dear poem,

How do you come to life,
From the depths of my mind so rife,
With secrets and stories to tell,
Or just a feeling I cannot quell.

My dear poem,

I am blursed at your raw power,
For breaking my castles in the air,
In a world that abhors ugliness,
You unfurl my misery and darkness.

My dear poem,

You are not very kind,
But you translate my mind,
In a world that silences me as meek,
You let me riot and keep.

- Oizys.

NaPoWriMo Day 11: Smell of Escapism

Prompt: Write a poem that takes as its starting point something overheard that made you laugh, or something someone told you once that struck you as funny.

You smell like you want to be alone.

Your eyes, so distant and unknown.

Your essence, lost in search of character.

But your heart, oh how it glimmers.

With hope, to find a foreign home.

Where dreams can roam and freely roam.

And, living will become a norm.

With joy and peace, and love reborn.

To create and poet and yarn.

A life fulfilled, a soul re-born.

Laying in your dingy cot, you dream.

Of a life that's more than it may seem.

With a fear in the back of your mind.

That this hope may be just a bind.

And, you will forever remain stuck.

Trapped in a cycle, out of luck.

Always smelling like flying away, but.

Bound to the earth, come what may.

And, suffocated in this smell of escapism.

You long for freedom, a sense of prism.

But, deep down it is just a flimsy dream.

And reality is much harder it seems.

It hits like a giant truck.

The weight of life, that runs amuck.

You slap away smell of being alone, because.

You realize that in this world, you are not on your own.

- Oizys.