Begin by writing down the names of several people you know well and often come across in your home, school or neighborhood. Now pick one or two of those people and write a poem describing their attributes—how they look, sound, smell, move and behave.
You are renovating a home. Imagine that you are this home. What serves as your foundation? What are you working on fixing? What needs to be replaced and what makes your house a home? Describe in the form of a poem or prose.
--Today, write a poem or prose imagining yourself to be a home under renovation--
Vying for success my efforts sincere, Perseverance had seeped deep inside my bones, The distant strains of triumph, Could no longer make me suffer, Coz one truth had gradually made home in me, Realizing my ambition just a matter of when,
Struggle begins with believing and ends with being, Wild nights- Wild nights, Of insomnia, anxiety, despair and insecurity during, When success dazzled me with its advent, My diligence had already made me so bright, I could barely notice anything different,
Exterior had definitely changed, But once a target now just a stepping stone, Journey expanding on and on, Never to reach a destination,
Then one day, I felt a funeral, in my brain, It was the death of my aspirations, I went on further to shed my perseverance like a snake skin, Next thing I know, A new stranger had already moved in,
Conscience, the queen of my mind's palace, Went to welcome her new neighbor, I'm nobody, who are you? He replied with all humility to her, I'm the sovereign and you are my newest subject, He told her my name is contentment, Your grace, pleased to make your acquaintance,
He was a true connoisseur, thanks to him, I could taste a liquor never brewed before, High as a kite yet my feet never once tumbled, He engulfed my life with serenity, Cacophony of chaos doesn't bother me anymore...
In the folds of October's sapphire pleated skirt runs an archived tale of us, In zig zags of cave paintings, fanning wide like a peacock's feather, immortalized on red spit charcoal and mud, And God knows then, I had an unfettered wing for a limb, and an unhooked spine unrushed, gliding in sync with you on the dreamy lush of a twilight embracing an ember studded sky.
Autumn is as much a passing dream as Winter is an uninvited guest sipping on black dregs of melancholia and regrets, Burying hand stitched leaves of our psychedelic love in alien sheets of ice and frost. When the snow seeps into the roof of my naked shoulders, your furlough goodbyes that lodges deep into the doorknob of my heart, fester and wounds, like bullets fired point blank and the holler of a moribund echo recants.
I sit bereft of words now, And from the casket of ancient yesteryear's flutters the forgotten wings of an unweighed heart, waiting for the stroke of your thumb on my eyebrows and let loose my frowns into smiles. I sit bereft of words now, Waiting for the familiar touch of your warm hands to turn the doorknobs and usher the gold of Autumn in. I have never said it loud, never once in words, But God knows, the world was kinder when I had you by my side Then, I had lesser scars to sew.
In the lonely lane, walkin through the cursed path, I find my solace in the shimmering stars, eclipsing even the radiant moonlight. When the whole town sleeps, I take up a brush and some paint and canvas, and give life to the gloomy night sky. Oh, I absolutely want to paint a starry night now! With shades of intense blue, I paint the swirling sad clouds, some strokes here and there, to make them look alive, moving. Ah, why do they look so sad like my painting, is there no one to admire them too? With chromatic yellow, I paint the enchanting golden lanterns(stars), the brightest one being the venus. "Oh! the lamps are burning and the starry sky is over it all! " They're not just eleven specks of dots dangling from the night sky, they make me dream, those stars, though my life is marred with nightmares that doesn't let me sleep. The luminescent cresent moon sits in the sprawling night sky, with thick strokes of yellow and orange, it seems to have fallen into a deep slumber. There's this wavy cypress tree, swaying to the rhythm of wind, the clouds curve around it, making a pattern in the sky. With hues of black, green and yellow, I paint the cypress like flames, they seem to be mourning the departure of night. Below the hills sleeps the sleepy town, with the howls of cold winds, yellow lights and the eerie silence of the night. There's a Church in the village that stands tall like an Eiffel tower, as if they're trying to reach for the stars in the sky. So divine and ethereal is the starry night with it's calmness and colours, I truly behold this magnificent sight! If there's any way to reach those white pearls, it's only through death, oh death! take me to the infinity.