I began writing seriously at the beginning of lockdown. Music, poetry and fiction have become my true sanctuary, and I can’t see myself ever turning my back on them.
Being in lockdown stops your journey through life but your mind continues to wander. Emotions spiral, dreams become so vivid, and perceptions of reality are altered significantly.
Thank you to everyone who has given me encouragement, and provided me with writing prompts!
I woke up on my 20th birthday with a sore head. I remember the clinking of glasses, the vibrations of the speakers, and the roll of the dice across the breakfast bar, from the night before. I smiled at the thought of celebrating late into the night with my friends.
It was time to smarten myself up ready to catch the train back home. I smeared foundation over the bags under my eyes.
Upon returning home, I saw a giant balloon with a hand-written 20 on it. I enjoyed a buffet with my mother and grandparents. I smiled at the thought of celebrating all day long with my family.
My mood is lifted,
I smile at the thought.
In response to dVerse’s Birthday Haibun Challenge found here
A single moment.
One we will never relive.
When I fell for you.
When I fell for you,
Everything was simple.
Remind me to love.
Remind me to love.
Help me recall memories,
My eyes still drawn to your light.
Remind me to trust.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge found here
Rejigged into the Shi Rensa Haiku format coined by Ronovan himself!
Painting lines on lines,
Masking feelings with colours,
Burying lost strokes.
With a cold, stormy pallet.
Moody skies console,
Beautiful blue smudged with grey.
In response to dVerse’s Haiku Sequence prompt found here
Poems are best composed when there’s
No words to capture all your cares.
When there’s no light or ray of hope,
When heading down a downward slope.
That’s when words are the coastguard’s flares,
The scatter of birds, March’s snow,
The bowler’s throw, the whistler’s blow.
Alarm bells cry final warnings,
In dark nights, but darker mornings.
Why do we have to shrink to grow?
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #16 found here
Add fuel to the golden fire,
To make us go higher.
We took flight with no wings,
Only colourful rings,
Clutching a woven basket.
It took a while to grasp it,
But once we were suspended,
It could be comprehended,
That there is more to life,
Than war and strife.
Our view is panoramic.
There is such a thing as magic.
Though with each refreshing sigh,
We draw closer to ravens in the sky.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to dVerse’s flights of fancy challenge found here
Frantic fingers dance,
On the self-destruct button.
Only when we’re caught.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Haiku Challenge #316 found here
Back when I was little,
Unworthy and insignificant,
I was a drained and lazy lizard,
With dreams, so magnificent.
My dreams of a eutopia,
Became so real and recurrent.
Though they brought little euphoria;
I was trapped by a sea serpent.
Old leather boots struck terror,
Deep within my shielded heart.
Potpourri reminded me of home,
When my world was torn apart.
My escape from him was easy,
Once I climbed over self-blame.
Now I don’t count every penny,
Nor lower my head in shame.
I’m making myself a life I love,
Where I won’t feel homesick.
I’m yellow with contentment,
Like the earthy turmeric.
In response to the Paint Chip Poetry Prompt Challenge #30 found here
A poem for anyone who is made to feel small, to give them hope for a brighter future.
At the lost and found,
Unnamed, unclaimed, unworthy.
Jewels all around.
Once loved perhaps, once cherished,
But now a forgotten gem.
A patchwork teddy,
Not mine- but I see stories.
Stitched and stuffed again.
The tattier the treasure,
The more loved is the relic.
Shared with dVerse for Open Link Night #270 found here
Some say we are a puzzling pair.
Some say we are one of a kind;
We’ve a similar state of mind.
It is confusing that you care,
About the thoughts that others share.
Do you think that the grand oak trees
Listen to whispers in the breeze?
No, they stand tall and proud, and live,
They know what they can take and give.
There’s always one who disagrees.
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #15 found here
When I think of you, I find myself looking towards the sky. I wonder if you are looking down at me. Watching from above, with a pair of angelic wings. I believe that you are seeing heights only one stairway has ever led to.
I would prefer it if you were closer though. Thriving in flourishing meadows, behind the hills. I dream of watching you dance, as the playful breeze rattles the leaves of the oak trees. Just beyond the view from my window; your own hinterland.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt found here