the time will run out
the silence will end
the clouds would burst open
the rain would lash down
blood would flow
scars would show
the heart would be torn open
the mind would go haywire
the time will run out
disaster, hazard
the sky would fall apart
and the land would burst in flames
disaster, hazard
only pain, suffering
would linger in the end.
My hand won’t write, but worse than that
my mind can’t conjure up the words
that float on air like little birds.
Where’s the magician and his hat?
I’d wish that he might pull a song
from whence the furry rabbits come.
Please give me something, let me hum
a tune, a verse. It’s all so wrong
to be bereft of energy
for writing on this snowy morn.
Suppose ideas will be born
if patiently I wait? O me,
o my, I do not like this state
of wordlessness. Turn on the lamp,
light up the dark of writer’s cramp,
and fill the blankness of my slate.
New writing prompt-
1. Listen to your favorite song.
2. Pick a phrase or two, a line or many lines, from the song.
3. Write a poem including those phrases/lines.
Here is mine-
Song:- Way back into love by Sabrina from the movie Music and Lyrics
Phrase/Line:- I know it is out there, there is gotta be something for my soul somewhere…
Something out there…
I find myself wandering around
with no aim or goal in mind,
with the knowledge that
there is something out there,
there is gotta be something
for my soul somewhere,
that would bring me
the faith I so desire,
that would set it alright.
I find myself hoping
that it is out there
for my soul somewhere.
Beautiful sky
Beautiful love
Love so fair
Love so sly
Sly is who I am
Sly is the world
World so dreary
World is a dream
Dream in the night
Dream of the day
Day quite warm
Day with a charm
Charm act outward
Charm so fake
Fake is who I am
Fake is this world
World freedom
World enlightens
Enlightens the path
Enlightens my soul
Soul concept of life
Soul concept of death
Death for me and you
Death so inevitable
Inevitable circumstance
Inevitable depression
Depression kills
Depression controls mind
Mind your own business
Mind so lame
Lame is who I am
Lame is the world
World so sultry
World where I live
Live in the shadow
Live in the oblivion
Oblivion choices
Oblivion sky
Sky so high
Sky so blue
Blue waters
Blue cheese
Cheese of cow
Cheese I love
Love is who I am
Love is the world
World is yours
World is mine
Mine
Yours…
Well, I hope you are not angry for reading this poem(yes it is a poem) which is full of meaningless phrases and words.
But I loved writing it and I hope you are also going to love it.
Blitz is a 50-line poem, completely made up of small phrases. Rules-
1. Line 1 should be one short phrase or image.
2. Line 2 should be one short phrase or image, using the same first word as the first words of Line 1.
3. Line 3 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 2.
4. Line 4 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 2.
5. Line 5 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 4.
6. Line 6 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 4.
7. Line 7 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 6.
8. Line 8 should include the phrase, using the last word of Line 6.
9. Keep on repeating the routine till Line 48.
10. Line 49 is the last word(only) of Line 48.
11. Line 50 is the last word(only) of Line 47.
If you have any questions, do ask them. And try it- I know it is a little time consuming and a little confusing as well, but it is quite entertaining when we write it.
There
comes a
time every day
when I strive to
write but I simply can’t.
It
just doesn’t
seem right that
my mind goes blank
and I simply can’t write.
But
I know
it occurs when
I feel a sudden
revulsion towards everything in life.
And
also when
I am anxious
and I try to
comprehend with my numb thoughts.
But
still this
must be the
time when I am
able to express myself fully.
Unfortunately
that is
not the case
with me because I
just simply can not write.
Again feeling nothing
an emptiness prevails
the mind is numb
the heart is fragile
I ask questions from myself
but there seem to be no answers
Again feeling nothing
it is a large void
where I exist with myself
with nothing to feel.
What is the relation of this picture with the giddy thought?- I don’t know. I just felt like posting this picture!
A giddy thought strikes my mind
I know now what to think of
What to think about for another day
And torture myself by thinking about
it again and again till the mind bursts
with pain, for pain is better than confusion
prevailing thoroughly, in an amazing way
within the nerves and the brain.
Swarm of memories 
flock of thoughts
herd of feelings and
pride of vows-
I now feel deflated
under the wondrous
miracle of mind.
Sweet sleep, slowly covering
the open windows of my mind,
engaging me into a sweet tone-
Good Night, it murmurs to me
Good Night, I speak back to it.
Oh my my childish mind
Why you do fidgeting
Running to this extreme
And then to that
Why you no concentrating
It is your slave’s exam
Why you no study
Oh my my master
Oh my my mind
Why you go to the dark
Out of the blue
Why you not absorb light
And enlighten your slave
With a good feeling for once
Oh my my master, my mind
Oh my my childish mind.
Enraptured by the sudden appearance,
of the light in the dark,
I switch my mind off,
so as to feel nothing,
but a strange numbing sensation.
A random, disorganized progression of thoughts. Lying there awake, in the middle of the night, the mind flits about. It settles upon the past, present and future. It lingers upon the half empty side of life. A negative smudge of thought invades. Positive self talk, efforts to slip back into sleep fail. Self fulfilling thoughts of ‘I won’t be able to go back to sleep’ repetitively creep into the mind. This is how I am going to start my day?
Compartments in the mind. Control. Security. The lids have been purposely flipped off the top, of late, and have fallen away. Disorganized, chaotic. Containment and control evaporates. What replaces the chaos? No reference points feel right….not yet. New directions, but this subtle anxiety gnaws at the gut. The slightest bump, nudge, jolt casts doubt. I look toward the stars for comfort. Requests are offered up.
The dogs snore. The cat prowls. The clock glows 0-Dark-30. Time to get up and make coffee. The early bird local news leads with seven shootings in the metro area. Nothing uplifting there. I turn it off . I spend time tying some flies. The dog lies at my side snoring away. My mind eases.
An inner voice prods, coaxes me toward positive thoughts. I am often comforted by the realization that I am not alone in this journey. Comfort can be gained by seeing the burdens others endure. But, standing together in the maelstrom of life is not enough.
I want to, need to, rise above that swirl of negativity, if even for a brief respite. It is up to me. The day begins, the sun is up now. The day brightens. Up to me to maintain it. Join me?
My mind, my body, my spirit? A little patching, pulling the kinks out, repairs and life goes on. After all the intent, in the photograph, is to provide nurturing to living things (plants, gardens, pets, family, friends). I will do my part. Will you? (by SwittersB)
I’ve been waiting in the cold
dark, forever, it seems, at least
to feel your warm hand upon my body.
Unbury me from this hovel of dampness
that infects my bones, my joints.
I need your electric balm to invigorate
my mind, my soul.
This gray shadow has cast its’ net
too long, too far.
It has swallowed
too much of this earth
causing a great bulge
in yesterday’s news.
One – sided blues
that propagates itself
over the tops of its citizen’s moods
clamping down hard with its monotonous recital.
Sun! Unleash your soothing rays
for we cannot wait
patience has seen its overdue days.
© [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com], [2012]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material, artwork, or photo’s without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Jeanette Shihadeh] and [thepainterspalate.wordpress.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
The furniture that occupies my mind
takes too much space. This room is not defined
by loveliness or style, is not a place
where I can live without the frightening chase
of seizures that move in as residents.
They hide within my brain as if in tents,
and I can’t rest in my own living room.
I feel entrapped as in a stone-cold tomb.
