Scribbled Thoughts

The day’s weight rests on eyelids

forcing a battle to keep them open,

a struggle you shouldn’t engage in,

one you always regret in the morning,

but you fight anyway,

to make the day feel more fulfilled

less wasted,

more memorable.

You wake gulping, choking

on dryness and struggling to swallow

fear you can’t breathe,

until your brain reprimands,

points out your nose.

You lie there, swallow carefully

fearing too big a chance will

begin the painful coughing.

Water waits at the bedside

to restore the parched land.

Just don’t drown in the process.

You tread through life

with all the charm of a verruca,

a black dot at your centre

surrounded by bloated pain.

Any pressure inflicts agony,

but you must continue walking

for a reason you no longer remember.

It sits there in position,

displayed to tempt,

to separate your money for its

sugar rush and mouth satisfaction.

Yet the sign denies all access,

it waits, smirking, knowing it is wanted,

and amused at your frustrated sigh

when you walk away empty-handed.

Prompt: Out of order (write about your feelings when there is an out of order sign on a vending machine).

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.