She Sits Alone and Thinks

She Sits Alone and Thinks

Day 16 of 30 Days of Poetry

Here we are, on the homeward leg. Past the halfway point now and heading to the finish line. I’m enjoying this writing prompt I came up with very much. Who knows what December might bring: keep an eye out!

A single poppy, flat as if it has been pressed and preserved, lying across a neutral background
She sits alone and thinks of days
Old voices echo in her ears
While feelings light upon her face
Then fall among the dust of years

She sits alone and thinks of one
An empty space within her heart
Reminds her of a time far gone
A promise that was torn apart

She sits alone and thinks of now
Of all that she's seen come to pass
Of when she used to dream of how
Her beau would come back to his lass

She sits alone and thinks of him
The news that broke confirmed her fears
That fate would snatch him on a whim
Her smile is brittle through her tears
Making A Mark

Making A Mark

I stare accusingly at the blank page in front of me. It doesn’t flinch, but returns my glare with the knowing mockery of one who has engaged in this battle of wills many times before only to emerge triumphant.

“Damned if I’m going to be beaten by a glorified scrap of wood pulp,” I mutter to myself, oblivious to the irony that I am succumbing to its challenge by raising the stakes.

The empty page doesn’t dignify this with a response. Instead it continues to flaunt its unblemished face while mine grows increasingly furrowed by the effort of remaining in this unequal contest.

“To hell with planning!” I cry, grasping my pencil with what I hope is a keen sense of purpose. I move to sketch a bold line, firm right up to the last moment of failing nerve. I hesitate; I am lost. My nemesis sits untouched.

At this point I would usually resign, metaphorically topple my king and step away from the field of combat. But not today. With the vow, “Today will be different!” echoing in my mind I take up arms and head once more unto the breach.

“Aha! Got you!” rings out. I raise my arm in victory as I regard the new mark adorning my erstwhile foe. Phlegmatic in defeat, the page simply accepts its fate without comment as I bask in the glow of success.

Pay Attention

Pay Attention

Day 15 of 30 Days of Poetry

A small purple flower growing from beneath a rock alongside the path
Don't stop
To think
Of where
You are
Just walk
On by
Without
A glance
Keep all
Your thoughts
Inside
Your head
Got to
Keep up
With the
People
Walk in
Lockstep
Don't you
Dawdle
There's no
Time to
See where
You are
Going
And you
Never
Even
Noticed
Where you
Had been.
Stop.
Think.


Walk,


Glance,
Keep


Your head.







Dawdle,
There's
Time to
See.


You


Noticed.