Journal 6

Prompt 3

I want you to kiss me the way you did that late summer night.

I want you to hold me close as if i was in pieces.

I want you to look at me the way you use to.

I want to talk to you till i can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

I want to feel your hand move softly around my face.

I want to mean something to you again.

I want you to miss me like i miss you.

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Journal 6

Daddy, why are you so mean?
Why so strict? Why is it that I
ask mum when I want sweets
and toys? Daddy, what if you
blew bubbles with me every
now and then? Daddy, do you
think that we could be close
enough that you might recognise
your face in my eyes? Mum
once told me I have your eyes.
Daddy, are you proud of that?
Or are you just praying that I
might develop the rest of your
features? I can assure you now
that won’t happen. Daddy, I
won’t be you. I’m not good
at math. I won’t work until
my family misses my face.
I’d try to be the good cop
sometimes. Daddy, you know
I love you. Thank you for
playing your part in making
me. Maybe one day I will
see myself in your eyes,
but right now you’re too far.
Daddy, I’m not in your office.
Daddy, I’ll miss calling you
Daddy.

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Dye

Every odd line must mention a color, every even line must mention a sensory image (taste, smell, feel), and final line must mention both a sensory image and a color.

 

Red always reads, for me, as strength.

Not like the strength of a shot at a bar across town,

More like depth, authority. Like a dark ocean blue.

More exhilarating than the whiff of an ocean breeze off of the water.

More earthly than Green.

And the memory of thick grass below your bare feet.

Brighter than yellow, and

Like the star glistening darkening the pigmentation of your skin.

It’s never Grey.

As the days that has come. And then,

All you’ve felt is black.

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Journal 6: Form and Play

Have You Seen My Daughter?

Her hair was in pigtails

and she was carrying a little pink pig with

velvety ears that she worried constantly with her fingers.

Everyone remembers the way she used to do that.

I’ve taken to starting the day in her room and spending the day

doing mending, nervous work with my hands, and ending the day broken down on the patio

looking out over the fields and worrying my hands like she used to Peppa’s ears and the police

tell me the same things they told you

She probably hasn’t gone far but

every day the odds get a little slimmer and

even you are losing hope, replaced by dread to pick up the

next phone call.

Hoping, hoping, hoping to hear a little voice on the line saying “Mom,”

and not a grown up voice that will say “Ma’am,” and give me condolences in a somber, practiced way.

Do you remember what she was wearing?

A blue shirt and she had on pink leggings and

under a hat were the pigtails that I remember tying in the morning before she went

out and I never would have let her

go if I had known she would not come back

how easy it is to say that now. And they’re afraid someone might have

taken her. I don’t want to imagine it but I can’t help it. Have you heard what those sickos

do to little girls? The

entire community is helping us look but as the days go by, I’m more and more afraid of what we might find.

Remember how her eyes looked when she asked if she and Peppa could play outside? They had

stars in them.

Have you seen my daughter?

Prompt 2 Rules: The first letter of odd numbered stanzas forms a word (left aligned). The last letter of even numbered stanzas forms a word (right aligned). Some lines are long so overflow lines are indented (as well as the blog formatting would allow). The words spelled by the stanzas put in order make a sentence. The formatting was a little hard on the blog but hopefully it will be a little more clear in my final portfolio.

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Journal 6: Make it Your Own

An Alpha Poem:

Rules: each line, sentence, or word must start with the next letter of the alphabet in the standard order. The rules cannot be combined.

The Gods’ Choice

Almost every day it happened.
Beginning with the weather.
Clouds rolled overhead.
Darkness filled the sky, the world.
Everything seemed to slow down in anticipation.
Few enjoyed what was soon to come.
Gods would come down to the earth.
Heaven bored them.
Instead, they chose to mess with us.
Joking like we were pests.
Killing us sometimes for sport.
Lightning declared their presence.
Men and women would appear after each smoldering strike upon the ground.
None of them looked completely human.
Onyx-filled eyes lingered, scanning each of us.
Prepare to run, our mother would always whisper.
Quick, you had to be quick, but even then, they were faster.
Running was the best and worst option.
Suddenly, a pair of eyes landed on me.
Tingles of fear ran throughout my body.
Underneath my exterior, my soul was already flying away.
Viduus had chosen me.
Whatever happened next, I might not remember.
Xenophilia is what he was known for.
You wouldn’t know based on the myths.
Zelus couldn’t save me now.

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Journal 6

Morris Lewis

Choice three

 

 

The Day the Sun Never Rose

 

I always believed in truth.

I always felt right would triumph.

I always tried to be honest.

I always wanted to be remembered.

 

How did corruption become prevalent?

How did expediency take control?

How did dishonesty become the norm?

How did I lead such a useless life?

 

Democracy died when people stopped caring.

Then fairness and truth became unnecessary.

Right and justice became inconvenient.

Honesty became expendable because it was not expedient and

I will be forgotten because when I had the chance to speak up

I refused.

 

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Journal 6

Morris Lewis

Choice three

 

 

The Day the Sun Never Rose

 

I always believed in truth.

I always felt right would triumph.

I always tried to be honest.

I always wanted to be remembered.

 

How did corruption become prevalent?

How did expediency take control?

How did dishonesty become the norm?

How did I lead such a useless life?

 

Democracy died when people stopped caring.

Then fairness and truth became unnecessary.

Right and justice became inconvenient.

Honesty became expendable because it was not expedient and

I will be forgotten because when I had the chance to speak up

I refused.

 

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Journal 6

Prompt 3:

If only you had noticed me
the way I noticed you.
If only you had seen the way my eyes would smile
every time they saw you.
If only you had heard the way my laughter would triple at
every horrible joke.
If only you had seen me as more than
just your friend.

If only you had noticed me
instead of her.
If only you had seen the shattered heart behind my forced smile
whenever you would talk about your girlfriend.
If only you had heard my jealous huffs whenever you ditched
game nights to go meet her.
If only you had seen the distance I placed
between us before it was too late.

If only you had noticed me
leaving you behind.
If only you had seen how hard it
was for me.
If only you had heard the nights that I
stayed up and cried.
If only you had seen the look on my face
when I finally said goodbye.

If only you had noticed me
before I met him.
If only you had seen the way my eyes
smiled for you.
If only you had heard how hard I’d laugh
at every joke.
If only you had seen me then
as more than just your friend.

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Journal #6

Rule:  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1 number of words per line for the poem

 

My Precious

You,

my precious

are as dear

to me as the

earth is dear to life.

I never worry about finding you

you’re always by my side. Against all

odds and through thick and thin I can

call you mine because you are my

precious. You must never leave me.

Remember that no matter what

I will always choose

you. I will

always love

You.

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Journal 6

Start every line with “n” and can’t repeat “n” word again in the poem.
No letter “a”
10-line minimum

Nipping winds chomp my toes.
Novel in my tightened grip.
Nothing thick, but something to flip through.
Noon’s sun burns blissfully.
Nude dirt collides with deep green-blues.
Nibbling sun emissions on my skin.
Napping on towels dirtied by the hours.
NaCl tickling my nostrils, drying my lips.
Night will come soon, but for now, I sit.
Next day will be even lovelier.

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