#0088 - Cold Mornings

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 7}

Reminders of times past;
Nostalgia;
The blitheness of a child revisited.

At a time when darkness still reigns—
too late in the night for anyone to be awake, or
too early in the morning for anyone to be awake—
tata (father) rouses us to consciousness.

Lethargy
like superglue keeping our eyes closed;
Cold
like waterfalls of ice on our feet
when they poke out from under the covers.

"Come on, time to wake up;
you can sleep in the car."

Pillows, blankets huddled in our arms:
mementos of the paradise of slumber.
We stumble wherever that familiar voice leads us,
vision fuzzy,
feet shuffling,
comprehension nonexistent—
just get to the car,
where rest awaits.

Step out the garage door,
cold morning air hits us like the gust of a blizzard.
Still black as ink outside;
the sun makes a feeble effort to light our way:
the faintest glimmer of blue—
hue inspired by the glacial air—
streaks along the Eastern horizon.
And the air:
As if winter concentrated all it has
into this single morning;
As if we are living in a fridge
and the fridge door just slammed shut;
As if Antarctica has come to visit us,
but without the snow.

Oooooh it's c-co-old.
Where's the car?

We shuffle begrudgingly to the open door and dive in,
creating our personal nests faster than any bird
out of pillows and covers and anything warm.

Darkness:
sleep returns.

As tens,
dozens,
hundreds
of miles of asphalt pass beneath our metal chariot,
the sky grows gradually brighter
and through holes in the sheltering veil of Hypnos
we listen to snippets of grown-up talk:
something about planning,
something about money,
something about home,
something about travel,
…something about us...

In retrospect, it was all probably important,
but, to the infinite indifference of childhood,
irrelevant.

That indifference is gone now—
it could not follow me through the years.
Like Blankie
and action figures
and Gameboy cartridges,
it’s in the attic now.
I can visit it,
but I can no longer have it back.

#0087 - Thought 18

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 6}

One true difference exists between wilting and shedding:

Either way, the bad stuff falls away.
In shedding, a better you manifests;
In wilting, there is nothing left when the detritus falls away.

#0086 - Forbidden

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 5}
{Prompt: "Taboo," from Poetry Riot! on Tumblr}

Perpetual Earth:
our home and our hearth.
The disk of our sun
not turning 'round us?
Forbidden.

A dark-coloured man:
him, owning the farmland
that's littered with soil
upon which he toils?
Forbidden.

A woman well-dressed
and clever, no less:
her, raising her hand
or taking a stand?
Forbidden.

A man and a man
to walk hand in hand?
A lady and lady
in shared bed asleep?
Forbidden.

So many things that have been labeled taboo;
are you still surprised that the judgement continues?
Not surprised, I would say,
just a little irritated;
Saddened.

#0085 - Rhetoric of Numbers

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 4}

These numbers and dry formulæ may be,
By blasted inexplicability,
A better piece of poetry to read
Than any word or phrase written by me.
If words in poems are indeed to veil
A meaning that by pond'ring eyes' assailed,
Then digits can be easily availed
To cause these ardent ponderers to fail:
Replace a thought with π or e or 4
Or any of a frankly endless score
Of varied symbols rarely used yet more
Elucidating than one's lingual lore.
     But, rather than with maths be so enraged,
     I'd like to just read poems off a page.

#0084 - Spare Time

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 3}

Who could know what you do in your spare time?
Do you dance with angels?
With devils?
Are you searching for affection
or, faced
s d r a w k c a b,
just direction?

These moments, these times,
do you find to be sublime
or do you simply lie
in everlasting wait
for this lifetime to abate
its slings and arrows?

Perpetual love,
perpetual sleep,
perpetual hate,
perpetual peace.
With which endless path
do you hold your allegiance?
Or do you rather sit in indifference
as moments pass, silence
as your reaction to nascent
cataclysms or confused parlance?

I won't take the time
to guess;
I'll only be half-right
at best.

#0083 - Thought 17

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 2}

Sometimes we attempt to mask our emotions
from being interpreted by the inquisitors surrounding us,

And sometimes our emotions are masks that we can’t even interpret ourselves.

#0082 - Thoughts

{NaPoWriMo 2017 ~ Day 1}

Flowing through the crevices within my mind
Establish reality, which I survive;
To fall or to thrive is
A question of mine and
Whose answer is lost in some ditch of my mind.