Show don’t tell (paint by numbers)

Depression, perfect crime of the mind
unsolvable, a technical achievement
mysterious, unattributed, unkind

Depression is a joke
where no one’s laughing
Depression is a movie
screened without light

Depression…

Show, don’t tell
I can’t be bothered –
You want a poem painted in black?

Mark my words
with a giant marker
or use spray paint
for all I care

Today’s prompt was the scent of a flower. Safe to say I’m off prompt – as we are always at liberty to do. The prompts are there to provide inspiration, not pressure.

This poem demanded to be written and it demanded to be shared. I obey.

Day 27 of #OctPoWriMo done. Four days to go…

Unfree matter

What is one to do
when one has a head that doesn’t stop
that’s on full time
that doesn’t know how to take a break
that doesn’t do empty
that laughs at zen
that cries at zen
that screams for control
that tries, tries, tries to keep the void away
and anger and fear and all threats
whereas the absence of those, is the absence of life too

I can’t say I long for death

dead flowers is as far as I’ll go, and easily
cause I’m not very good at taking care of plants
they don’t talk to me
I don’t talk to them
and I’d probably be pissed off if they DID talk to me
because COME ON there are too many people talking to me already
pulling my strings pushing my buttons and i have buttons everywhere EVERYWHERE
I could be a goddamn shop
a haberdasherie

not a hasherie
that would be a Dutch drugs boutique

I want pills pills pills
not that I don’t dislike pills, I do
but I need them
I want happy pills
HAPPY pills
can you imagine that?
there was at time when I wouldn’t even take paracetamol
and now I want pills pills
pills that will make everything better
pills that will make me feel better
pills that will keep me from losing it with my child
because I’m endlessly fed up with his behaviour
and then feel totally embarrassed because the child’s seven for pete’s sake
shouldn’t he have a mother who keeps it together
who raises him so that she never feels the need to flip a finger
who moulds, him shapes him
grinds him like a coffee bean
and turns him into the best coffee in the world –

now that you mention it
it doesn’t sound nice to utilize your child to make coffee

what is one to do
when one has a head that doesn’t stop
that’s on full time
that tries, tries, tries to keep the void away?

This was today’s prompt at napowrimo.net: “Today, I’d like to challenge you to take one of your favorite poems and find a very specific, concrete noun in it. For example, if your favorite poem is this verse of Emily Dickinson’s, you might choose the word “stones” or “spectre.” After you’ve chosen your word, put the original poem away and spend five minutes free-writing associations – other nouns, adjectives, etc. Then use your original word and the results of your free-writing as the building blocks for a new poem.”

I really wanted to try this prompt before I read other people’s work, to see what would happen. Now that I’ve written it, I want to post it straight away instead of saving it for day 30. Let’s see what tomorrow brings 🙂

No bop, no glory

Well, the sky was grey, but she never complained about it, because everything was grey anyhow, so she didn’t notice that sky, she didn’t even look at it, really.

Colour is overrated anyhow, you know, all those poets and painters always going on about it, but truth be told, colour never fed the hungry and didn’t attain world peace either, right? So bugger off with all your pinks and yellow and greens. Ash grey and cinereous will do, thank you very much. Tyrants!

So 6 lines, 8 lines, circles, squares, what do I care? Bop ‘till you drop, but make it fast, I have other things to do.

Again, I tried my hand on one of the prompts I’ve skipped, and digressed 🙂 I wanted to keep this for later this month, when I’ll have to do a day of travelling. But I feel really bad after a huge fight with my son this morning, so this fits my mood. And the amount of inspiration I feel at the moment to create something new 😦

I’ll have to have another go at the bop some other day: In the basic Bop poem, a six-line stanza introduces the problem, and is followed by a one-line refrain. The next, eight-line stanza discusses and develops the problem, and is again followed by the one-line refrain. Then, another six-line stanza resolves or concludes the problem, and is again followed by the refrain.

Here’s a beautiful example of a bop, by a fellow participant: She just could not conform to their ways.

I bet

I bet
when a black dog
is depressed
it has a white man
hovering
in its head

To bark or not to bark
that’s not
a friggin’ question!

It’s National Poetry Month again! This poem is loosely based on the first prompt on napowrimo.net. Day 1. Happy reading and writing everybody!