Tag Archives: Sunday Writing Prompt

intoxicated

intoxicated

you entered
my heart,
you, to whom I am
bound like
a drunkard to wine
I begged
to be freed
from your kisses

~kat


A Blackout poem and digital artwork for Mind Love Miseries Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt inspired by the poem, The Vampire by Charles Baudelaire. (See below)


The Vampire

By Charles Baudelaire

You who, like the stab of a knife,
Entered my plaintive heart;
You who, strong as a herd
Of demons, came, ardent and adorned,

To make your bed and your domain
Of my humiliated mind
– Infamous bitch to whom I’m bound
Like the convict to his chain,

Like the stubborn gambler to the game,
Like the drunkard to his wine,
Like the maggots to the corpse,
– Accurst, accurst be you!

I begged the swift poniard
To gain for me my liberty,
I asked perfidious poison
To give aid to my cowardice.

Alas! both poison and the knife
Contemptuously said to me:
“You do not deserve to be freed
From your accursed slavery,

Fool! – if from her domination
Our efforts could deliver you,
Your kisses would resuscitate
The cadaver of your vampire!”

Published in 1857.


on the shelf – MLMM

antiques-2

on the shelf

you barely notice him there
shadowed face, darkened, looming
in the mirror, whispering tales of
masked heroes, of brilliant valor
old as wheels and of damsels not
distressed, save for the sting
of fearful, pursed lips flapping,
judgment over fabricated scandals,
pants not dresses worn, oh there
are tomes stacked high as heels
spitting lies of petulant patriarchs,
women have their place, they bark,
captured on celluloid, idolized but
muted objects on a shelf, no self for
selflessness, ignored, she feels the sun
at her back, his shadow growing
longer, looming in the mirror
barely noticed there, barely worth
noticing, from plastic eyes she stares

~kat

For Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Choose an Antique.

 


Cursed Clock

cursed clock

i hate you
but i need you so,
without you,
i’d be lost
in my dreams, never waking
snoozing…sleep…dreamless

~kat

For Sunday’s Writing Prompt: Ordinary Things. Write a story (I wrote a shadorma poem) where an ordinary, everyday object plays a significant role.


preservation

Almacon @Deviant Art

preservation

become invisible
like wraiths at the
window, watch
and learn for
there is virtue
in silence and
much to be gleaned
from the elders
who suffer the
perils of a
guilty conscience…
death of desire, hounded
by voices in brimstone
bellowing…these
are the secrets
only children
know…speak
only if spoken to

~kat~

For Mind, Love, Misery Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Choose one or more titles and construct a poem or story around it:
Voices in Brimstone
The Dissonant Heart
Wraiths at the Window
Secrets Only Children Know
The Automaton Who Became Self-Aware
The Perils of a Guilty Conscious
The Virtue of Silence
The Crying River
Death of Desire
Eliza Happenstance


if…for girls

if...for girls

If…for Girls

If you can dance with glee when no one’s looking;
and laugh when others catch you unaware
If you can love the girl you gaze at in the mirror
and realize she’s not her looks or wild hair
If you can fill your head with truth and knowledge
unashamed of being smart though boys may stare
And dream the dream of being anything you choose
reach for the stars, I promise, you’ll get there

If you can learn that strength is sometimes weak
that loving deeply’s bound to bring you pain
If knowing this you choose to love the least
and treat each person with respect, the same
If you would turn your ear from ugly chatter
defending the slandered scapegoat’s sullied name
Strive to be a friend who’s loyal, and forgiving
and when you’re wrong, bravely accept the blame

If you rejoice with others when they’re winning
and realize your own worth’s not diminished
If you can trust your heart and intuition, follow
through, see things you’ve started to the finish
If everyone around you tries to stop you
from being who you are, saying you’re foolish
Just rise to the occasion when it matters
there is no limit to what you’ll accomplish

If you remember all who came before you
the women who have lived and strived before
If you believe equality and liberation
are not some silly games to settle scores
If you’d pass this legacy on to your daughters
that women have a voice, teach them to roar
And teach them too, compassion in this land of men
sometimes the gentle way proves less is more

If there is just one lesson I could give you
I’d remind you that you’re perfect as you are
If I could live my life again knowing all this
I wouldn’t change a thing, we’ve come so far
If…what if, each girl grew up believing
their value’s not dependent on unrealistic bars
having it all is an impossible illusion
you’ll find your way by following your heart

~kat

A poem for Mind Love Misery’s Menagerie’s Sunday Writing Prompt inspired by the poem “If” by Rudyard Kipling. (See Below) I couldn’t resist writing my own version, but this one is for the girls.


If—

Rudyard Kipling1865 – 1936

If you can keep your head when all about you
   Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
   But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
   Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
   And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
   If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
   And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
   Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
   And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
   And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
   And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
   To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
   Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
   Or walk with kings—nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
   If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run—
   Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

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