NaPoWriMo: Day 10

Did you make it?

Did you make it?

To grandma’s house?

Did you stray like I did?

To the meadow-

Of snowdrops and daffodils.

Did you look at the sky?

To see the sun hiding,

Behind a drizzle of rain.

Did you run for cover?

Protecting the basket,

With hands covered in dirt.

Did you see the cave I did?

The one to seek shelter in,

Until the suns return.

Did you walk inside?

To meet the big eyes,

And sharp sparkling teeth.

Did you make it?

I didn’t.


NaPoWriMo: Day 9


Every night people walk into his arms.

For some it’s not as easy,

And for some its too easy.

He whisks them off to a land of dreams;

Where visions lace their minds.

When they wake, they may not remember,

But they were in his safe embrace.

But for me I remember,

Every image I have seen, as if it were real.

When I close my eyes, I take his hand

And am escorted through his land.

And beside the rest he lays me down.

It is there I slumber, day and night-

On a bed of poppy seeds.


NaPoWriMo: Day 5


As a species we are stubborn creatures.

We break easily and mend slowly-

But we don’t stop.

Something has forced us to our knees.

Halting our lives, it separates us.

It has happened before,

In many different forms.

We are forced to the dirt,

And it looks like we wont recover.

But we have and will again.


Because humans are stubborn creatures.

And we know you must fall

to rise.


NaPoWriMo: Day 4


To protect my freedom,

I will be captive.

Pacing back and forth,

We are left alone.

Trapped inside our cages,

looking at the world from behind glass.

Sleep and eat, that’s all we do.

Descending into a pit,

Of depression and self-pity

We lie around our prisons,

Staring at nothing but air.

We consider the danger,

Standing at our unlocked doors.

Some throw away their safety.

Just to feel in control.

They leave their cells for a while,

Just to be put back in.

But I do not.

The risk is too great.

So, to protect my freedom-

I will be captive.

Will you?


NaPoWriMo: Day 1

I may be walking,

but I am not living.

Slowly at first, she arrived.

Setting her roots within my mind,

sprouting images of violence;

with a mood to accompany.

Then he invited himself in,

Bringing along the parasites.

Crawling around my insides,

Aiding your pollination.

Her thorns pierce and entangle,

restricting my attempts to fight.

They poison my existence, damning me.

Draining me, day and night.

I may be walking,

but I am not living.