Buried Alive

Father a poet,
Mother a prophet,
Sister a painter,
What am I?

A puppy,
A pawn,
A people-pleaser,
my disguise from others.

I came to this planet
naked, unafraid and found
people swapped costumes
like playing cards.

A baby, A girl, A woman.
Mini, Miss, Ma’am.
Each a respectable role.
Each a code of behaviour.

But the customary dress
now gives me hives.
Do I disrobe & be deemed a liar,
or do I stay buried alive?

 


 

Word Prompt: Illusion

This is Water

solitude is water | kinship the meal

 


 

Inspiration: “Silence is a true friend who never betrays.”

“This is Water” is from a speech by David Foster Wallace:

There are these two young fish swimming along, and they happen to meet an older fish swimming the other way, who nods at them and says, “Morning, boys, how’s the water?” And the two young fish swim on for a bit, and then eventually one of them looks over at the other and goes, “What the hell is water?”

Source: metastatic.org

Soul (Remix #1)

I slept and dreamt that I was a flower,
born to blossom; bloom to perish.

I awoke and saw that I was a weed,
I weeded and found that I was the soil.


Remix of:

Born to blossom; bloom to perish.
From song ‘What You Waiting For’ by GWEN STEFANI

I slept and dreamed that life was joy,
I awoke and saw that life was duty,
I acted, and behold duty was joy.
Quote ascribed to RABINDRANATH TAGORE

I slept, and dreamed that life was Beauty;
I woke, and found that life was Duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shalt find thy dream to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.
Poem by ELLEN STURGIS HOOPER
Source: http://archive.vcu.edu/english/engweb/transcendentalism/authors/hooperpoems.html

Word Prompt: blossom