B’S POETRY CHALLENGE #31

(Thursday 14th September – Tuesday 19th September)

ENTITLED

Rules:

  1. Each week I will post one word that will serve as an inspiration for a poem.
  2. This poem can be of any form and any length.
  3. You can choose to use the actual word in your poem or a synonym or simply convey its meaning, that’s up to you.
  4. Copy URL of your post to the comment section OR Pin Back (preferably).
  5. You can also contribute a word to the challenge, and I will link it to your blog the following week.
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Chronicles of a Millennial Woman (#1 Thirteenth Floor)

She eventually realized that she was the only one left in the café. The barista was wiping down the tables and preparing to close for the night before she finally ordered the check and put away her laptop. Her design was far from complete, but she was still satisfied with how much she was able to accomplish in such a short span of time. With a backpack on her back and a textbook in her arm, she made her way to the subway station across the street, getting off as usual on the forth stop. The street lights illuminated the path to her building, where a familiar and unexpected young man was waiting for the elevator in the lobby.

“Hey,” she said with enthusiasm.

“Hi,” he replied. “I thought I’d run into you?”

“Well that’s a fair assumption.”

“Yeah. Where you still on campus?”

She nodded. “Big assignment. What are you doing here?”

“A friend of mine just moved in.”

“Which floor?”

“Thirteenth, the apartment below yours actually. Why don’t you come meet him? I think you two would get along.”

“How come?”

“He’s very charming. You’ll enjoy him.”

“Umhum,” she replied suspiciously. “Sure. Let me just drop off my things.”

She set her bag and book in the living room, flung her sweater onto the arm of the sofa then proceeded with her friend downstairs. The new neighbor was a man of medium-build with mess dark hair, scruffy beard and thin-rimmed glasses, who gave a small smile when he saw her. His smile, which could have easily been interpreted as one of mere politeness, was actually one of subtle intrigue that exuded confidence above all else. His home, on the other hand, was rather bland. It had all the basic amenities that a home ought to have, in addition to a flat screen TV and a collection of video games and books, but it lacked character. Nothing about it could reflect the personality of its inhabitant, aside from the obvious fact that he was male.  It was her belief, that someone whose home was so meticulously unsettling was either someone who had something to hide or someone who didn’t have a concrete personality, but she didn’t want to judge him too quickly. She was overcome by curiosity, though; for he didn’t seem like just an ordinary guy.

He poured each of them a glass of juice and sat himself in the chair next to her, inconspicuously watching her every move. He rarely cared enough to observe a woman unless she spiked his interest. This is not to say that he hadn’t been with women that don’t entirely interest him, but they were not ones to observe.  This one was different. She was coy with a timid smile and very expressive eyes. The kind of eyes that one could not easily dismiss. However, her timidity seemed to come from her unfamiliarity with her surroundings and nothing more. She was certainly someone worth knowing, especially since she was able to cope with their mutual friend, a notoriously complex character.

Hardening

I stopped wanting to feel what I’ve once felt in the past

The gurgling in my loins has calmed at last

A steady stream now runs in its place

But a series of rocks continue to impede its pace

 

Hardening walls are building within

Tightening the space where the birds could sing

They flap their wings with intense fury

And peck on the walls, bleeding before a passive jury

 

Viscous fluids reach their solid form with age

Growing rougher and drier at that stage

A softness in the past they did pocess

A harshness in the present controls the mess

 

 

 

Depression, Anxiety and the Creative Writer

Katie Phillips Creative Services

Creative writers often jokingly refer to the strangeness of the writing experience in terms of a mental illness. Multiple personalities (Characters that talk back? Say, whaaat?), obsessive behavior, the “tortured artist” stereotype, all the feels, etc.

But there’s a darker underbelly beneath all the joking.

The sensitive, artistic personality types who tend to express their deep thoughts and feelings through writing often trend toward depression and anxiety. 

This is by no means true of all writers and artists (thankfully!), and the scientific community is divided on whether a link actually exists. However, I’ve certainly seen anecdotal evidence of many creative writers struggling, not to mention dealing with anxiety and depression myself.

Creative writers look at the world a different way. They feel things others don’t feel, and often feel them much more deeply than the rest of the population. Writers (especially of the speculative genres) often feel torn between two…

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The End of Summer

Crested-Lark

As the summer comes to a close

Its pages leaf to a fall

The little girl sleeps in her crib

Protected by frayed walls

Her caregiver hums a sullen tune

As the wind whistles from afar

Blowing the branches off weary trees

And carrying along a lonely lark

It flew a great distance from its home

Hoping for shelter from the mighty wind

Standing patiently on the window sill

The small bird began to sing

A priceless gift on such an eve

A lulling harmony for a sleeping babe

Fleeting as it often is

For it disappeared behind the moving drapes

With the summer idleness now past and gone

All must start their lives once more

As the caring givers protect their young

And the lost birds learn to soar

 

The Daily Post’s prompt “Priceless”

 

B’s Poetry Challenge #30

(Wednesday 23rd August – Tuesday 29th August)

HEAL

Rules:

  1. Each week I will post one word that will serve as an inspiration for a poem.
  2. This poem can be of any form and any length.
  3. You can choose to use the actual word in your poem or a synonym or simply convey its meaning, that’s up to you.
  4. Copy URL of your post to the comment section OR Pin Back (preferably).
  5. You can also contribute a word to the challenge, and I will link it to your blog the following week.

Untarnished Love 

The purest of loves

Is untarnished by people
Been holding me close

For years it has grown
So deep within it branches
Indestructible

A softness, a peace
Its safety has provided
Unconditional

It is mine alone
Impossible to deny
Cannot replicate

Falling back on it
This love shall always protect
Inexplicable