#EverydayWriPo Cinders

HA! It’s me again, tell em it’s me again! I bet you weren’t expecting another poem so soon, but here I am bearing literary gifts. This poem was made in a kitchen, in a household with a fair few banging poets. Shouts out to Laurie Ogden and Gabriel Jones for the poetic enjoyment. Anyways, the poem…

Cinders

Youth moves like bush fire,
burning up to no where.

Adulthood is just charred ground,
childhood’s stubborn ashes.

The best part of life is the forest,
before the first puddle of dying.

Too many people enjoy the burning,
think disintegration is life.

Why play in embers,
lamenting the rule of flames?

Nobody told me every forest burned,
that each man turned to desert.

I do not understand the joy of a forest,
if it lives destined for dust.

#EverydayWriPo Hawaii

So it has been a long time since we last spoke. How are you? (I am going to assume you’re cool unless you comment otherwise). I’ve been good, having fun on the poetry front. The other night I took part in a very cool open mic run by the Poetry Takeaway (follow them on Twitter @poetrytakeaway). The lovely host Laurie Bolger took “ingredients” for a poem from the audience, and from those ingredients we poets became chefs whom had 30 mins to create a delectable dish of a poem. All this to say that I have not returned empty handed, but with a delicious poem (according to my lovely fellow chefs). So here it is, I hope you enjoy…

Hawaii 

I started crying when her favourite place to visit became the beauty salon.
I told her that her body had become Hawaii.
She saw my tears, thought that meant the scent of my words were sweet.
Left my presence contented, my tears filled nostrils with love like lavender.

She did not understand.
Did not realise she was making me hollow, a seedless pomegranate.

Her body was Hawaii, her face sacred land,
but every time she came back from the salon,
I saw more hotels defiling the earth.
Each time she returned she looked less like her.

I did not have the heart to protest.
I could not raise placards,
only let seeds fall out of me,
hollow pomegranate.

See her body is like Hawaii.
It was beautiful before the buildings.
It will be beautiful after.
But I wish she didn’t build on sacred land.