Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Seven – ‘Bad Luck’

Late, but not by much! I’m feeling slightly more alive than yesterday and so I’m taking this chance to catch up on the Shadow of May challenge. Yesterday, day twenty-seven, prompted: How do I feel about my accomplishments?

‘Bad Luck’

I don’t mean to brag, but
I’ve got hands on experience
With bad luck. I was born bad,
Unlucky, never ever stopped crying,
My mother swore to me, I never stopped
Until she put me down, shut the door, and
Turned off all the lights, the t.v, and the radio
In the house we never got to live long in.
I was a bad omen baby, she,
Bless her heart, she wouldn’t pick me up
Ever again.

It was my fortune, and I was
Bastardly fortunate, I guess, in some ways.
I learned to lose parts of myself quickly, and
Eventually put in the wounds left behind
More usable things, more unstable limbs.
A quick learner, my teachers would say.
I was such a quick learner, and maybe I was
At some time. I’ve got a few plaques with
My name on them shoved into my closet, behind
Some things I don’t remember ever owning.
Bad luck, I’ve got the experience, so
I think I know when I tell you how
It’s bad luck, to ever assume
I was.

Shadow of May – Day Twenty-Five – ‘A Light Haunting’

Many apologies – I have been ill the past few days. Still going too, but at least I’m a little livelier than before. There’s probably going to be a number of mistakes and typos, but I can check those out later. The twenty-fifth Shadow of May question was: What three things do I most value?

‘A Light Haunting’

My house feels haunted, is haunted
By me. The soft whispering of my feet are
Still just as uncertain despite the two years
They’ve brushed against the concrete floors
That have supported my slippery shadow as I ghost
Between the front door, kitchen, bathroom,
My room – a path of half-existence taken daily.

Sometimes I see the sunlight drifting
Between the semi-closed blinds by the couch,
And sometimes there is food in the fridge
Waiting for when I remember that I’m alive again-
For no mater how tranquil I feel in my incompleteness
There is an existence outside of work, books, and sleep,
Which might require basic actions of me.

It’s a calm sort of crazy, sort of madness,
Haunting myself, that is, being there and yet gone.
For eighteen years I was trained to be quiet and light
On my toes, so much so that I learned to drift from room
To room. My mother began hanging up mirrors just
So she could catch me every now and then, but years later
I forgot how to stop and, I don’t know if I can – or want to.

Shadow of May – Day Twenty-One – ‘Gently Now’

Whoops! Looks like I spoke to soon last time I posted. Got hit working a tournament at work – work day changed to 7am until closing at around 12am. Only had to do it two days though, and yesterday I got off early – but then I fell asleep until just a few hours ago. Anyway, the twenty first Shadow of May question asked: How do I show hate?

“Gently Now’

My stepmother told me many things
About myself and my future, the ruin
I would be, and my father quietly watched
As I became less than his child, less human.

Just like my mother, I am just like my mother
She’d say, the woman who did such terrible things
The judge eventually broke down and gave me to my father.
Tired, I was so tired of living with all those expectations.

That was forever ago, and now I know that no one
Can hurt me like that again, I now bask in a soft hate
By telling them how well I am doing, I’m alive and I shun
Them often in this leisure life, but they find a poisoned bait-

And, Oh, How in their own hate they love to bite,
But now, how I have come to live out of pure spite.
I can’t regret it, no, I cannot regret my will to live-
I show my hate in gentle little moments I’m willing to give.

Shadow of May – Day Six – ‘Terribly Lucky”

Sorry this is so late! The last two days I’ve been working 15 hour shifts, which means when I got home I barely had the energy to draw any cards, let alone write.
Today there should be three pieces from me, though I may only get two done if I’m being honest with myself.. On the bright side, because of how much I worked the previous two days I got to have today and tomorrow off. Most of today was spent catching up on sleep..

Anyway, today’s Shadow of May questions were: What am I thinking and feeling? How is my environment?

‘Terribly Lucky’

Run away, I want to run away.
Just run away from all the little mistakes
I’ve made, like becoming a person people
All mistake me to be – so happy, so joyous.
The person I have built them to expect of me
I want it gone. I want to be free, to exist as a child,
With raw potential and hope, without anxiety –
The social expectations and implications.

It’s good to get out of your comfort zone
True, and that’s my problem, I’m here,
Static on the radio, no movement, no music.
Sometimes it’s best to leave, for sanity’s sake.
Burn your bridges when you get to them,
Set fire to your hope and dreams-
Only to pray a phoenix is born from the ashes
Singing praise for the things you left behind to grow.

I am blessed with some sort of luck.
I’ve just enough luck to pay basic bills
And feed myself five out of seven days.
It’s the little bits of mental chaos that eat at me
That consume me, the “What Should I Be’s”
The forced stability from people who were never
Young, futureless and forced to live a promised lie
About the age you were going to be happy with hard work.

Shadow of May – Day Three – ‘They Told Me’

The school semester is almost over and work has been a little crazy, but I still managed to get today’s piece done! Today’s Shadow of May questions were: How do I treat others? How do I treat myself?

 

‘They Told Me’

Home is where the heart is
They will tell you
But what if I don’t want to go
To where my heart lies.
Why can’t home be where I’m safe,
Not a place where I’m afraid to open
The front door, a place I haunted-
Another heart, sky, and world.
Why can’t home be
The simple thought of existing
Without repercussions.

Home is where there are people,
They will tell you,
Who love you, sometimes.
But sometimes I cannot bare to look
Anyone in the eye, not after all those nights
I spent intolerably alone,
But I still offer little hellos
To strangers because I remember being
Strange, alone, mistaken, and abused, once.
It’s not the best thing I can do,
But sometimes the only thing I can do
Are little tiny words.

NaPoWriMo – Day Twenty-Seven – ‘Dreaming of Silence’

Today’s prompt was to do a poem on taste! I chose silence because… why not? Also I must apologize – Yesterday was full of unexpected surprises at work. By the time I got home at 1am I was dead tired and just went to sleep.

‘Dreaming of Silence’

A long night spent painfully quiet,
A taste of chalkiness, a sitting
Ungracefully on the tongue,
Heavy weight, foreboding.

It’s silence, uncomfortable silence,
And it tastes like that drink you thought
Was yours, but it wasn’t, it was a stranger’s.
How wrong it tasted. How wrong it all felt.

Dreams, dreams dreamed silently,
They taste so wrong in the back of your throat-
A bitter heaviness of sleep lost, thoughts lost
Sweetness replaced by a bitter irony.

Would coffee cover it – would anything?
Anything to wake up, to move on, to forget
How it came to be all your dreams were replaced
With silence, with that bitter heavy silence.

They say that when you dream in black and white
It’s because you judge the world as one or the other.
It’s silent and it sits heavy on the tongue, ashy loathing,
Acid regret sitting in the back throat watching and waiting.

NaPoWriMo – Day Twenty-Five – ‘The Closet’

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt was to explore a small, defined space. This was fun to write.

‘The Closet’

There are a few hundred mysteries to behold
Some hanging, some laying, some folded
Between all these cloths bought half-old
In that little closet of mine standing swollen.

There are shoes, semi-worn stuffed in nooks
Four shirts well worn, two pairs of pants well torn
A few various coats above the dresser slightly broke,
So much fabric lost and living, socks randomly sitting.

And I’m never quite brave enough to begin the cleaning
In the spring when I must decide between precious things-
There’s my jacket, from a friend in China, worn occasionally.
A quilt my great aunt made that’s never faced my bed.

Little lives lived in every string sown and cramped together
That I only ever see dug out every other spring and winter.
There’s a sewing machine used thrice and then forgotten,
My various bags and backpacks, a tent, a tarp, and hookah.

All the many little fragments of the hasty life I’ve lived
Are shoved into my closet when I can’t begin to comprehend
How I got this far in life – when did I buy this wig? Was it
This last Christmas? Where have all my socks gone again.

NaPoWriMo – Day Eighteen – ‘Sunsplit, Busted Lip’

Today’s prompt was to do a poem using neologisms, or made up words. I was actually rather worried about this piece because using multiple neologisms is not my strong suit – one or two is okay, but after that I worry about it become too coagulated to understand. I use inktorn on occasion, but other than that the rest are all very new..

 

‘Sunsplit, Busted Lip’

Sunsplit, busted lip, August’s hot heat at home-
We could’ve been, we could’ve been something
Not what you thought I thought I wanted so long ago,
Long ago when I was too quiet to say something more.

My heartlipped dreams once stwafed and spit,
I drove myself to happiness believing in a simpler bliss-
Maybe I could cherish a childish thing, a frank thing,
I dreamed we were friends left yet to be- you and me.

Your blue eyes were madness to me, they made me inktorn,
I could’ve sworn it was nothing but pure, but they said
I was soulbent, brout tipped, too heartlipped to be truly pure,
They told me it was love, the glove fit, and I –

I believed them, friendship spent, words bent,
So, I went and I became only more inktorn for the world.
I spent my Augusts sunsplit, busted lipped, hot heat
Not at home – I feared you thought I thought I wanted something-
Something not quite as pure, but, I was too quiet to say something more.

NaPoWriMo – Day Twelve – ‘Home’

Today’s prompt was alliteration and assonance – I’m much better at alliteration than assonance, but I tried. Anyway, this piece needs some more work, but it’s been a rough day at work (and hopefully I’ll be getting a new job soon that’s in my field of study). This is what I could do tonight!

 

“Home”

A home is such a fragile thing-
Where can you find one? Where can I?
I want to be welcomed without worry.
To wide, wide windows and home
Home grown window plants- lavender,
Rosemary, sage sitting in five dollar buckets.
I want them to great me, them and the books
The books braced against each other on the shelves,
Full lives lived and lived lightly between pages
I have turned time with, turned nights with,
Under the wide, wide windows where I sit,
Sit silently, so quietly I can hear the outside
World, a world I can welcome in time
If only I had a home to walk into without worry.

NaPoWriMo – Day Ten – ‘The Artist I Know’

Today’s prompt was to write a portrait of someone close, and well, my best friend is whom I’m closest too. This was pretty hard to do – surprisingly so.

I did her no justice.

“The Artist I Know”

Carefully we’d ready it all, the pens and palettes
She was methodical and fluid, eager and jaded.
Blank, only momentarily, the canvas is sized,
I’ve only lost days to how our time flies
While we spoke about everything life offered,
But between the words and pictures, a quick break.

We’d met in some sort of dream-
She carried shadows in her wrists
And so did I, so did I, little butterflies.
In time, midnight became our favorite time to meet-
Sore joints and fingers stained by our everything,
But eventually it must all end to begin again.

On the porch with hot tea in tired hands.
It’s raining, all falling, cool wind kisses
Us as we sit, talking and quiet, worrying
What will happen when it ultimately ends.
A dream only lasts if you never wake,
And we both know we’ll wake again.

I’m yawning, she’s drawing.
It’s almost 5 am, and it’s hard not to give in.
The rain does not stop, her eyes do not stop.
The porch light shows us how to see, while the sun
Barely begins to ascend, it’s just starting to peek
Across the horizon, it’s sizing us up- the weak.

There are shadows in our wrists and we know,
The Sun knows. We’ll have to part soon.
Smoke escapes from her lips and drapes the air,
Fresh, rainy air – the drops reflect perfectly
In her eyes, a flawless contrast is shown, she is
Watching, I am watching too, as the drops fail to fly.