Coloured Flashcards

Bring me all your dreams
of splendid restful nights
flashes of inspiration
envy to your friends

Bring me all the flashers
especially the one
with sterling ideas
pinned
prized
a collector’s item
things colourful dreams
are made of

Bring them all!
Let’s create flutter fun
fantasy and nightmare
to dance with fire
for the witch must burn.

Note: We still burn witches (effigies) in Finnish countryside, that is, Easter & Midsummer Bonfires, a tradition carried over from pagan days. I found this practice peculiar at first but nowadays I enjoy it, for reasons that have nothing to do with the tradition.

Also, I’m a list freak. I’ve got a number of ‘to-do’ lists going at the same time. I pick colour of flashcards (according to the mood) and write ideas, one-word triggers, one-liners, dialogue from my eavesdropping occupation and so on. They decorate my working space. One day I promise, I’ll peel them all off the wall and throw them on the fire. Imagine what peculiar fun that would be!

This poem is in response to the prompt, “I enjoy peculiar fun” Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month Challenge.

How Will My Pen Give Thanks?

On edges and extremes, singular distress.
A blank page or a capture by a character
with issues, I fumble towards a dark and
stinky mess. What madness! Deprived of
sleep, of nourishment and other things I
care not to talk about. I visit a doctor and
declare I’m zonked out. He tells me to take
sleep; a prescription that fixes problems.
I go home ready to take sleep, and muse
says no: “You call yourself a writer, write!”
Legs cramping and fingers unfeeling, I sit
and I write. As dawn approaches, a voice
screams: “I need sleep!” and the computer
says no. Side effects? I haven’t even started.
This is, the dark side of creativity. And the
luminary still asks, what do I do for a living?

Note: I’m never bored because I laugh at myself, and people think I’m sane.

Poem in response to, “The Poesy of Side Effects” for Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month Challenge.

A Dirge Like Birdsong

There’s pouncing and there’s prancing
in birthday suits I mean, of the lot
taking delight in spring.

Strut and stride egg-laying creatures
boasting youth and growth
only wicked wildlings understand.

It’s a celebration of things born anew.
New life in a new year for a living
full of fun and cheer!

Old bird too old to play complains
of injustice. Young chicks
fend for themselves

Whilst, a predator prepares a feast.
Band of skulls continues to play
music lights up the party.

Delight! Lament not the ills.
It’s the circle of life, and birth gifts
abundant as the year begins.

Orange Lilies – Passion for life

This poem is in response to the prompt, “Write Me A Birthday Dirge” at Magaly Guererro’s Dark Poetry for the Cruellest Month Challenge.

Note: ‘Old bird’ refers not to the birthday girl. Don’t go running for botox now!