Scribbled Thoughts

Ouch, I heard that,

the electric shock you received

moving the cage of alcohol.

was it angry?

Ready to hurt to be noticed?

It almost had a voice,

Or was it just trying to say

hello, and it’s nature

ruined its intentions.

Prompt: Stranger conversations (start the first line with a word or phrase from a recent passing conversation between you and someone you don’t know)

23:90

I was created round,

with no edges, no dents,

no imperfections.

No one thinks twice of

kicking, slamming or whacking me

against themselves, the ground

or the walls.

I will not bruise,

I will not feel it.

I am a toy of fun,

I can be a vent for your frustration

I can be a constant comfort,

waiting in all weathers

for when you need me.

23:89

Two years of sacrificing

relaxing days off,

replaced with travelling,

studying, filling my soul

with words and hope again.

Struggling with night shifts,

then forgoing sleep to

attend classes that inspired

a part of me almost forgotten.

Doubt and exhilaration mingled

as one, a constant boiling pot.

Humiliation at a mediocre result,

then pride once dedication improved them.

Poetry workshops brought me alive,

kept my pen flowing,

so that even after I walked

down the catwalk for my diploma,

my pen keeps moving.

I am complete again.

23:88

A world ravaged by war

now tries to rebuild in the aftermath.

Families are reunited

after spending years apart

and no longer recognise each other,

frustrated at this stranger

who doesn’t understand them.

Chase the dreams beyond class,

Slowly reaching goals

and discovering who they really are,

who they want to be.

Prompt: Book inspired (think of your favourite book, write a poem that sums up the story in ten lines).

I cheated, it’s a very loose vague summary and eleven lines.

Also, if anyone is interested, the book is A Cuckoo in the Nest by Michelle Magorian.

23:87

Power wash your worries away.

The steady stream of stress

flowing through you

will spray out and

blast away years of dirt and grime

that clung to the walls

and hid the real

potential beneath.

You will be clean again.

23:86

I am invisible to you

so I can watch and see

far more than anyone else.

No one notices me,

so I notice all.

You don’t talk

and people assume you have

nothing to say,

but that’s not true.

The twitching of your fingers

and the polite smiles

you respond with

speak your opinions

that you’re too afraid to voice.

I am dead and cannot speak for you,

will you ever speak for yourself?

Prompt: Ghostwriter (imagine an invisible ghost picks up a pen and starts writing to you).

23:85

Goodnight.

Let the vast space left beside you

fill with lingering regrets,

doubts that no one is there

to whisper away.

Reach for something to

grasp onto,

but let go, fearing

you’ll cling too tight

and not release

when your real

desire returns.

If it returns.

Prompt: Last words (use the last sentence from the nearest book as inspiration for the first line of your poem)

23:84

Forspoken or forsaken.

Prophesied or catastrophised.

Predicted or presumptuous.

Which one are you?

Which one am I?

23:83

Earliest memories carry

the scent of smoke,

but I never remember seeing

a cigarette between her lips.

The smell soon disappeared

from childhood recall

and the aroma of cake-baking

took over,

followed by the fond schedule

of weekly visits,

to cross-stitch, to knit,

to read, to talk.

Back before tensions

began to emerge,

back before I became

my own person,

and not a shadow

of what you wanted.

Prompt: Nan’s kitchen

An organised structure, calm but busy.

Dread for most, beginning a long journey.

A strange no man’s land that we struggle through.

A sense of footing established at last.

Motivated to accomplish something of worth.

Wanting a little fun to brighten your hard work.

Trying to balance a day of chores and relaxation.