Inexplicable

Inexplicably,

As I sit at this bus stop

A stranger approaches

And the air

becomes sand in

timeless alchemy.



In the meeting of eyes

Smiles are shared

Lips whisper kisses

while

Bodies meld together

Souls connect, fuse,

Become Us, instead of I.

The "what-if"

Walks by, heading for another stop.

I blinked.





*Yes, it's time for some mediocre poetry, but this is what popped in my head along with my migraine.  This probably would sound like the best poem ever if you've been drinking.  It's five o'clock somewhere, right? Enjoy!




The Prompt is Alchemy: 

3

: an inexplicable or mysterious transmuting

And also:



This picture

When Illusions Fail

This week's word is Crush.  I am sorry to say that I had to use the past tense.  I have been in a poetry mood lately.  If I could play guitar I'd probably be sitting in a coffeehouse wearing a jaunty black beret.  I am sure that this is all very temporary, but we have to let these things work their course.   





What I Once was, 

mashed between the

Who I am Nows,but

Crushed underneath

What I Might become.

Particles of my being

Good,wicked, silly

Ugly, sad and beautiful

Pulverized into dust,

Strewn about,

Carried off by the wind.

Inocculated

The word for today is hollow.  I'm trying something different today.  Try not to cringe.


Underneath the sweetness
Of your gaze
Lies the sting of impending heartbreak.
And I've seen  
That come-hither smile before. 
The dazzling whiter-than-white
That doesn't quite reach hollow eyes,
Where the dismal, soulless abyss,
That gaping maw that is your heart
Lies waiting to destroy
The innocence of the next woman.
Who needs that drama?
.

I Am, Said Someone Who Is Not Neil Diamond

Mamakat's World Famous Writer's Workshop Prompt:  Fill in the blanks of this template and create your own I Am poem.  I love these sorts of poetry exercises. Those of you who know who Neil Diamond is will understand the title; those who don't can google him.  Cheers!

I am tenacious and fierce
I wonder if cats ever dream of people
I hear the cry of a phoenix rising from the ashes
I see angels marching across the sky
I want to read every book ever written
I am tenacious and fierce

I pretend to be unaware of the world
I feel the breath of dragons
I touch the manes of griffins
I worry that I am not enough
I cry that any child should ever hurt
I am tenacious and fierce

I understand that this too, shall pass
I say everything exists for a reason, a purpose
I dream of walking through a cool forest in bare feet
I try to keep a clean and uncluttered home
I hope for a comfortable midlife
I am tenacious and fierce

Humanity

Here is a poem I wrote, since NaBloPoMo's theme is Poem:

Lonely flotsam, floating

on the sea, surging 

along the streets,

bobbing on the surface of the crowd;

the debris is both static and fluid, 

fighting to remain unchanged

yet inevitably drawn along in the flow 

'til at last

the tide must slow,

a moment

before the entire teeming, streaming mass

is inexorably pulled toward the drain.

Red Writing Hood: Sloth

NOTE: Another week, another deadly sin. Why not? For this week's prompt, let's talk about sloth. Emotional or spiritual apathy. It's not doing what we think we should. It is closer to apathy than it is to simply being lazy. This came to my brain just like this, because my brain will do just about anything to avoid actual work. It is sloth-y like that.


The alarm clock next to my bed rings, gently saying
"Get up! Get up! Get out of that bed! It is time,
Time to face this bright new day!"

I hit the snooze button.

The alarm clock that I set last night buzzes, saying
"Get up! Get up! Get out of that bed! It is time,
Time to start that new workout at the gym!"

I hit the snooze button.

The alarm clock that I now hate blares, yelling
"Get up! Get up! Get out of that bed! It is time,
Time to start your new job, your new career!"

I hit the snooze button.

The alarm clock screams, "One last chance!
Get up! Get up! Get out of this bed! It is time,
Time to live,
Time to believe,
Time to become who You were meant to be."

I hit the snooze button for the last time.
The clock is silent.
I burrow under the whiteness as the blankets
Smother any spark of initiative I may have once had.