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Firemajic's NaPoWriMo 2021--"The good, the bad and the ugly" (3 Viewers)

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Bone Collecting

#8

Bone Collecting

With her hungry eyes
she scavenged food off other peoples plates
flaunting collar bone crevasses and a
string of pearls spine
every bone clearly defined

She was well fed... full
of self loathing, and shame
who was to blame, maybe the casual
comment her Father made in passing
when he told her not to worry about being fat because
every pound of her was sweet

Every well meaning compliment
nourished her illness and it flourished
as she starved her self esteem into submission

Alone, she stood naked in front of the mirror
counting each bone that stood out
in sharp relief, each one a masterpiece
of deprivation, from her gaunt eyes
to her hollowed out hips

She pretended to eat her green salad
leaving it uneaten, but rearranged
just one of the many tricks that worked
in her hunger game
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Ode to Jen's Magic Pen

#10


There was a gifted poet named "Jen"
she wrote poetry with a magical pen
Firemajic got mad
'cause her own poetry was bad
so she snitched Jen's pen on a whim

Firemajic never wrote poetry again
even though she had Jen's magic pen
she cursed and she cried
but her muse had died
'cause death is the wages of sin
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Bed Room Bower

# 11

Bedroom Bower

Secluded in my bedroom bower
dreaming away lovers hours rain
gushing down the gutters while
we cuddle behind closed shutters you
with your hand on my thigh lounging
on pillows piled high sipping flat left over
wine as we listen to the shower
secluded in my bedroom bower
 
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Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Procrastination is the Destination

#12

Procrastination is the Destination

She walked to the beat of her
inner drum and to some
she seemed
out of step and yet in her own time
she arrived at her destination
despite her constant procrastination
she was easy to distract and it was
a matter of fact she was content to
meander off the beaten track

For her the journey was the
destination and there was no
hint of hesitation if she knew not
where she was because she
was never really lost
 
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jenthepen

Staff member
Mentor
#12

Procrastination is the Destination

She walked to the beat of her
inner drum and to some
she seemed
out of step and yet in her own time
she arrived at her destination
despite her constant procrastination
she was easy to distract and it was
a matter of fact she was content to
meander off the beaten path

For her the journey was the
destination and there was no
hint of hesitation if she knew not
where she was because she
was never really lost


Sounds like a perfect way to live life. :) You have captured this character perfectly without a wasted word. This has immediately become one of my favourites of all your poems.
 

Darren White

co-owner and admin
Staff member
Co-Owner
For her the journey was the
destination and there was no
hint of hesitation if she knew not
where she was because she
was never really lost
I especially like this stanza. And I find it very true. As long as you see life, whatever you do, as the destination, there is no way you can get lost. Not that it's easy, but that's a whole different story :)
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Self confidence!

yeah! something like that ;) thank you for taking the time to comment ...


Sounds like a perfect way to live life. :) You have captured this character perfectly without a wasted word. This has immediately become one of my favourites of all your poems.

Thank you Jen! One can get too wrapped up in getting to where they are going, and can miss many of life's unexpected blessings... thank you for taking the time to comment, it is so appreciated...;)


I especially like this stanza. And I find it very true. As long as you see life, whatever you do, as the destination, there is no way you can get lost. Not that it's easy, but that's a whole different story :)

Exactly, life can get away from you, if you are always focused on the end result... and if you do get lost, know one will ever know ;)
Thank you for taking the time to comment, I appreciate your kind words...
 

alana

Senior Member
I really like the rhythm of this poem. There is rhyme in there but it's sprinkled throughout in surprising places, which gives it a really cool attitude. I really related to the feeling of walking to the beat of your own drum, too!!

#12

Procrastination is the Destination

She walked to the beat of her
inner drum and to some
she seemed
out of step and yet in her own time
she arrived at her destination
despite her constant procrastination
she was easy to distract and it was
a matter of fact she was content to
meander off the beaten path

For her the journey was the
destination and there was no
hint of hesitation if she knew not
where she was because she
was never really lost
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
I really like the rhythm of this poem. There is rhyme in there but it's sprinkled throughout in surprising places, which gives it a really cool attitude. I really related to the feeling of walking to the beat of your own drum, too!!


Thank you for your thoughtful comments ;) being out of step can be challenging, yes? lol...
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Twilight Son [ from the diary of a dreamer]

#13

Never more the willow blooms
beside a dry stream bed
the soil barren, dark as blood
where the sap has bled

A nightingale called to me
on an evening such as this
I wondered through twilight woods
wrapped in silver mist

There I saw a weeping Satyr
sitting on a smooth tombstone
his head bowed with grief
as he waited there alone

As each teardrop touched the ground
a resurrection fern grew
soon the meadow was in bloom
in every shade and hue

I slept among the velvet ferns
and there I had a dream
about a fertile tree of life
beside a clear warm stream

The Satyr slept peacefully beside me
with his hand on my breast
and I rested in his arms
with my head cradled on his chest

Years have passed and I tell myself
it was nothing but a dream
but I take my Son to the glade
when I hear the night bird sing
 

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