A Child in Pain

It takes a
village to raise a child,
the proverb says. To hear a child’s pain,
sight and touch are senses to use in a deaf world
where no-one has bandwidth to listen
till it’s too late to matter.
High levels
built on trust and freedom,
this is how we measure happiness!
A 12-year-old takes matters into their own hands;
playground assaults a child’s dignity
while we mind our business.
Happiness
takes many forms, and who’s
to say I’m content than my neighbour?

Prompt 11: A child in pain for Write Right @Thotpurge

PS. Someone once said, “a poem is a record of failure.” I don’t know about that. However, I’ll say this is a failed or unfinished triquain swirl poem; the act of writing a poem every day is a measure of one’s commitment…*sigh

In any case, if you read or watch the news, you might have heard already that we had another school shooting in Finland. The poem is in response to this recent tragedy.

Chasing Totality

Can a poem repeat itself?
Humanity as an uncountable noun
Humanity as an uncountable noun and a state of being human
Humanity as an uncountable noun, a state of being human and a human kind to others.
Once again, eclipse-chasers put themselves in the path of totality
Yearning for rebirth in moon’s shadow.
Will it be the dawning of a new era?
For this is a poem repeating itself
In a world where laughter
Is the sole refuge
For humanity.

PS. Were you able to glimpse the rare solar eclipse yesterday, April 8th? Not in my part of the world. Anyway, an “important figure” who looked at the 2017 eclipse with a naked eye sparked the first poem in my latest collection, The Sheltering…

Prompt 9: Humanity for @Thotpurge

Of Nights, Clear Skies and Patches of Grey Clouds in Between

Dear Friend,

I took the first photo yesterday evening and the second one this morning. The day before last, while everyone in my household was snoring away, I stepped outside despite the cold. Stars illuminated the sky as I stood, hoping for a repeat occurrence; the northern lights that flashed a smile two nights ago. What I got in instead was a shooting star.

In that moment of aloneness, in a trance, mesmerised by the comet zipping across the sky, I realise we cannot negotiate with Mother Nature. She does what she wants and gives us what we need, not what we want. Whatever bad dream woke me up, I cannot remember. But I remember the sky reaffirming we are never alone, no matter how much we believe in our loneliness.

You and I are members of “Art IS Wasting Time” team. We swallow clouds and expel water for all boats to rise and sail the tide. Then, in the dark hours of the night, reach for our witching tools to play with language and build monuments with words.

What good is magic if we hoard it? I tell you, friend, the old self must die for the present self to live. Let’s negotiate the tyranny of a sunny day to re-imagine and birth our future selves. Onwards with wasting time and making art that keeps us alive!

Yours in shared power of storytelling,

K

Prompt 7: Negotiation for Write Right @Thotpurge

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