If there was ever a time to put your words on display
National Poetry Day is the time to use your voice to say
What is in your heart
What do you feel
Reveal the emotions -at inner play.
Don’t admonish your words merely to paper
Don’t admonish your words merely to your mind
Shout out: I’m worthy. What I’ve to say is enough for today and another and another and ..
National poetry is for more than one day
Make each one count
Not merely the words you deem fit to convey
Your worth is more than hiding away behind myriad of masks to please those who get in your way
Your words are worth more than those whom you justify your truth without causing affray.
Your life story : Not merely poignant
Make your impression
Make your mark
I’m here to stay for more than a moment
more than a hashtag.
Use your words
Use your voice
To guide you to a better life -your way
For better or for worse
You are brave
So, seize your day
Here I stand
On a mountain 🗻 of solid gold
Praise be for the choices I’ve made.
The toxicity of my past ends with recriminations with my inner foe
Good riddance to the self-destruction of the days now old
A clean closet reveals a door ajar
a journey of new beginnings
If I vow to lift the cloak of doubt
Find the courage to replace it with hope.
Ebony’s shadowed legs followed like bone ivory music notes.
Umbrellas at dawn
No longer will the vampires mourn when each and everyone’s turn
Becomes an endeavour
Becomes closer to a pawn of the bloodless, pastry Underworld.
Fangs serve no required love
For the hearts that break
Under the tombstones engraved with dear forlorn amours.
Vials and trials make for complicated aisles.
Stephen Hawking’s shadow couldn’t blacken the suns holy masquerade without a tentative backhanded smile.
Flatulent legs pass an accordion player drowning out the tears of the past crystal nachts denial.
The fish bone corset of his lover – bygone
Weaved into a weathered, once feathered basket to uphold her now skeletal dignity,
A patched-up virgin awoken
A red sealed cockerel
His scarlet fever only breaks
out at night.
Nothing makes sense.
Not the severed maimed gingerbread men
Nor the black pudding
Nor the books written after the King’s night well spent.
Those paltry pawns of Christmas past climbed up the stairs on a general’s stare.
A goose-step march without all the trimmings
Merely a one-armed procured letter bitten off a one-off affair.
The traitor of Ebony’s moonlight dalliance wasn’t in his devilish dance on his journey
It was in the faces of his pseudo, mutilated, unvaccinated bastard offspring
Of each adultress, he gazed upon with an unassuming leer.
I’m craving for a time when the snow would level me out
From the bathtub bottled gin
That takes 20 minutes of focusing the mind to open
I need a lie down before I put the bicarb salts to indulge my sins
I sit here dying my hair
I don’t want to disintergate this mortal skin
I know won’t compromise
They won’t grant me a dividend.
In the positivity I feel when my nonsense brings me more clarity
The urge to give in to that initial rush.
Knowing that skiing the slopes of the cold rush
will end in a broken arm
A splinter to embarrass my ego
Show me up in a self-delusional femur propped up in a white cast in a sling.
Won’t humour my smile or bodily akin.
Write to recover
Write to reform
No, reaffirm I’m better without my foes
I used to call my brethren l.
I’m better now
Don’t ruin it
For brief a 30 second thought I sniffed out as win-win
Actions become our past
The future can make it count without losing an ounce of my heart to the demons of the crypt.
I won’t sin.
D utifully fights death with hope
A ccepts pain will help shed its old purpose
I n light it seeks for a rebirth – instincts prevail
S adness embrace – for loss will lead to freedom
Y esterday is a forget me not – a death sentence.
She lived a life of colour.
She lived a life of dull.
Throughout her life, she learned
That her desire for instant thrills
Having seen her become a woman who is miraculously
Not a corpse waiting for her family to visit her grave mourning what life dispensed.
If her spirit inspired her desire to live as a dissident against the traditionalist life of her own free will.
10 days she was in a coma.
Today, she is alive and her perspective has changed on time,
on her ability to process the strength
She needs to draw upon less selfishness
to make life joyful for the ones who taught her that it’s okay to forget,
It’s okay to lose her way,
It’s all okay,
She decides to instil what her children will impart
whether they take her advice seriously… Or on a whim.
I rise because I now see I am strong
I weep for the girl who once believed I was wrong,
Because others didn’t understand I was born with this face
It’s not because of my race.
I don’t have William fish syndrome.
I’m a woman with a heart as vast as the seven seas
The cost of investing in wasting time on vapid entities,
Taught me a lesson
Taught me how to rise up session after session.
I rise because I know I get it wrong, I admit!
I no longer weep for the girl I once was
For if it were the devil’s tears that once made me smile
Now I know I am a woman who seeks to live a life more worthwhile.