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NaPoWriMo 2019 day 21
Thread
Plane trails cross the sky,
thin lines from one hub to another
NaPoWriMo 2019- Day 20
Seduction
The past whispers in your ear
when sleep seems so distant
with tales and promises told
in sweet singing tones
"Society was better then,
if only you could go back."
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 19
Spinning
That morning had the clarity of a story,
we whirled and spun around each other,
hypnotised by the orbits we wove
and the stars above us were **[Redacted]**.
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 18
Liminal
The sea is a distant silver chain
hugging the horizon.
NaPoWriMo 2019 day 17
Unmoored
Stranded in the nothing,
spinning like a planet
My thoughts are still and calm
like the first light of dawn
through willow branches at home,
which I will not see again.
NaPoWriMo 2019 day 16
Language
I ask the rain for answers
but it offers no reply,
just a gentle tip tip tap
annointing my forehead.
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 15
Always More
The sun sinks into the ocean
sending vivid indigos and ambers
to erupt like fireworks over the sky.
The water is a perfect mirror,
no horizon visible.
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 14
Oblivion
We ask for guidance from eternal stars
burning above our heads in the night sky.
They are too distant, the void too vast,
the cosmic fires never answer our cry.
Movements we thought once to be signs of hope,
we thought they were suspended in æther.
Now we know, when we peer into our scopes,
they are long dead and sound won't carry either.
Our atoms once were forged within their flames
before gravity spun our fragile sphere
Now no connection or link does remain.
Now falls the night. We are alone down here.
Yet through our learning, science and art
we can create new meaning in the dark.
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 13
Thirteen
One time, he marched down six flights
then, panting, demanded the manager,
argued his way into a room change. Any other
number would do, would keep him safe,
but those digits were cursed. He wouldn't
even walk in. He never stepped on pavement
cracks despite his mother turning to dust,
burnt sage and rosemary to cleanse the spirits
from his flat built in the eighties,
was always polite to magpies. In this way,
the unknown was kept in fierce control.
Life continued to intrude, long and
yet brief. He would not like this small poem.
NaPoWriMo 2019 Day 12
Aeolus
You would not know me in this form.
My face shifts and is never still
like the empty dunes that whistle
so sweetly or the swaying branches.
If inclined, I will fill your sails
with the steady direction of home,
and help your seeds scatter over soil.