Birds sing louder without planes

As I was sitting in the grass
struggling with existence
a plane flew by

It made me wonder
what I would experience
if I got on it
and extended my flight

If I could choose my experiences
what would I choose right now?

Too stand on top of a mountain
with hiking boots and mittens on?
To swim in salt water
surrounded by fish and reef?

To visit ruins and be amazed
by the skills of culture
and the strength of nature?

Another plane flew by
and another
My pants got wet from the grass

Would I choose to be soothed by nature?
Would I choose to be punished by culture?

I noticed people weren’t on the menu
Not even to talk about the meaning of life

Rock and stones
Water and warmth
Colours and shapes

When I looked around me I noticed
that all that was missing was rock –
I had warm soft moor beneath me

I took off my sandals and listened to the birds
Do you know they sing louder when there’s no plane passing by?

(Wilnis, 23-6-2014)

I read somewhere that on the seventh day you’re allowed to rest… Right? I found an old draft in my note book, one that I wrote as kind of a stream of conciousness thing. I was having a tough day that day and decided to sit still and be quiet for a while, and see what happened (almost like in today’s prompt). At the end of writing this I felt better. I realised I simply wanted to be where I was and nothing else. If I can find the pictures I’ll add them to the post.

No wonderland

She saw a brick wall
They told her there was no brick wall
But she knew
there was
a brick wall

She knew there was a glass roof
She couldn’t see it
She couldn’t feel it

They told here there was no glass roof
But she knew
there was
a glass roof

You have firm ground beneath your feet
they told her
But she knew there was no
firm ground
beneath her feet

She knew there should be but
– no-
firm ground beneath her feet

Snorting beauty

She was high for five years

after the seven dealers

paid her a visit

 

She talked manically

when he tried to kiss her

tongue in cheek

 

Her nose bled

when he pulled her

from the glass casket

 

She laughed hysterically

when he asked her

to marry him

 

When the buzz wore off

she had a headache

and went to sleep

alone

 

Who needs a prince

when she already has

a white horse?

 

(#NaPoWriMo day 8 asked to rewrite a famous poem with your own take on it. I ended up rewriting a fairytale.)

The only one

It was about time
it will be good
that we are over and done with

It was about time
I was done
with her mood swings and her fits

It was about time
game set and match
her service – a pretty bad one

It was about time
everything is always my fault

That was hers

The only one

I’ve just found an older version. It got some feedback and I edited it. Three years later I somehow like the old version better. Any thoughts?

The only one

It was about time
it will be good
that we are over and done with

It was about time
I was done
with her mood swings and her fits

It was about time
game set and match
30 love, not even a player

It was about time
everything is always my fault

That was hers

The only one

Toolbox

If I had a hammer
I’d hammer your skull in the morning
I’d hammer your toes in the evening
All over your shoes

If I had a drill
I’d drill your eyes in the morning
I’d drill your ears in the evening
Blood all over your shoes

If I had a wrench
I’d wring you neck in the morning
I’d wrap myself around your middle in the evenings
Lick your shoes at night

If I had pliers
I’d pull your nails in the morning
Put them back in the evening
Say sorry at night

If I had a screwdriver
I’d screw you in the morning
I’d screw me in the evening
There’s a screw loose each night

The illustration was created by Ragbaby, and she holds the copyright. Check out the website of this multitalented woman for alternative cards, crochet with a twist, and a blog that’s onlike others.