Today I opted to use the Local Gems Poetry Press prompt of a two line poem. I recently pondered on the little I knew about my biological mum in the short time I knew her before her passing.
You liked Culture Club, made magnificent scrambled eggs,
tried to save her, and lived for the love of your family.
Today I went with the Local Gems Poetry Press prompt of beginning each line with the same word.
Maybe I haven’t achieved all I wanted.
Maybe roadblocks were mountains as I were pedestrian.
Maybe perseverance is the lesson.
Maybe everything really is random.
Maybe serendipity is broken clocks ceasing in unison.
Maybe trying to understand is another game we play.
Maybe I’m afraid of maybes.
Maybe the guttural chords of regret are echoes.
Maybe echoes are a blessing for those who can hear.
Maybe rumination is a sign that you’ve lived.
Maybe allow yourself to live once more.
Maybe greatness is your heart’s gilded armour.
Maybe splinters see themselves as grand oaks.
Maybe is the space between ideas and experiences.
Photo credit: Edited version of an original image by Woohyuck Jang operating under a royalty free licence.
For day 2 I’ve attempted both the Local Gems and the official prompt simultaneously with a Petrarchan Sonnet relating to the question of how to find meaning and ancient knowledge in a world that has forgotten itself and it’s truths.
Souls burst from darkness in neon cascades
but are we rodents in a cosmic trap?
Third eye blind, Gaia wept like weirwood sap.
False realities rise while truth’s star fades.
Meaning was lost in exploitative trades.
Auras applaud – and begin with one clap
is rebirth’s renown a most lucid nap?
The universe, … a dream that never wades.
Love – the compass of celestial travel.
Mouths hushed silent, emboldened hearts agape.
Enlightenment upon firefly flutters.
Judgement is a Promethean gavel…
grant critics nor doubt Mjölnir, be happy.
For life … is a sentence … blessed … with … stutters…