Day Fifteen: Halfway Home

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Here we are at the half way mark
Writing until our pens are weary
Typing into the velvet dark.

Desperate to avoid the dreary
Metaphor, simile, bright and bold
Smiles, gritted teeth, and quietly teary.

Grasping onto our muse, we hold
A torch to the dark; a verbose fire
Driving away the clapped out cold

A word feast is all I truly desire.

Day Fourteen: Clueing for Looks

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Is that my John?
What has she done to him?
Is that a box?
Is that a ring??
Can I have these glasses?
Can I have this tie?
Can I recommend something
Expensive to buy?
Do you like my accent?
Do I look a prat?
Just one question though…
Are you really going to keep that??

picture source whatculture.com originally sourced from BBC.

Day Thirteen: Moon Shield

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Full moon, warm; bright as fresh cream

In kitten eye blue sunshine dream

Summer evening, clash of light

Sol and luna; time to fight?

But Summer King, our glowing Lugh

Is heat incarnate, shining through

To burn the fragile face of moon

Who lives in daytime, in the June.

Where can she go? How shall she hide?

Star screen empty, cool and wide.

Empty no more, drifting past

A white and curious spell is cast

Across the sky, as blue is splashed

With fluffy creatures, unabashed

They cover Lugh’s face, blocking out

The harshness of the fiery lout

Moon shield floating in the blue

Evening ocean; Moon sails through.

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Day Twelve: Jugged Love

Quart ale jug

 

Today’s prompt was to write a replacement poem, specifically replacing a tangible noun with a non tangible noun. Here we have the common jug, replaced with the concept of elation. It was quite a tricky one! Let me know what you think.

 

Elation is the container commonly used

To carry the fluid of the easily bruised

She gave us elation, massive and wet

Flowing and cold and hard to forget

Three months in elation, prison of mind

Locked in a happy; caged within ‘kind’.

He spent long enough in elation to know

What he spoke of; how to find it, and where to go.

Pressing my body up high, reaching deep,

Elation formed by the jutting rock; craggy and steep.

From something to hold, to something to be

Elation contains, and is contained by me.

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Day Eleven: Anacreontic Alone

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Breathe we say; and breath I do
Pouring red into clear blue
Woody notes that play on tongue
Make me feel alive and young

Have to tell you; have to share
Wishing I could see you there
Tasting this scarlet divine
Beauteous river; only mine.

Sadness tinged I take a sip
Droplets linger on my lip
Darting muscle catches all
Won’t allow a drop to fall

Cannot waste this moment fine
Stars and moon and I; and wine.
Sharing images with you:
Pouring red, into clear blue.

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