Category Poetry

Illusion – A Dash of Sunny

freyathewriter 8 Comments

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what if the life we lived

the stuff we fret on

the hopes and joys in which we revel,

the envies and jealousies to which we are subject

like little ships tossed on a violent sea,

 what if they were but a dream

 – a fantasy

 – an illusion

a facsimile of a real life?

what if we, ourselves, were but a fiction?

would we change?

would we hang up our hats at the door to our lives

and just give up?

or would we carry on, regardless,

because that’s what life is –

experiencing, tasting, touching, wanting, needing, hurting –

for without all of that, we are nothing?

 

This week on A Dash of Sunny, we are asked to write on dreams. Again, I’ve taken a sideways step – rather than sharing my dreams, I’m playing the ‘what if?’ game. What if our lives are but a dream, and not really ‘real’?

Do hop on over to A Dash of Sunny, and find out what others have done! Or… take part!

Fun guy – TJ’s Household Haiku Challenge

freyathewriter 8 Comments

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mushroom box hiding

in the dark airing cupboard

white orbs float in space

 

caps like velvet hats

silky texture makes me smile

squeak as I bite you

 

This week, the gorgeous TJ has invited us to waxy lyrical, Haiku style, on mushrooms. I really, really, really like mushrooms. I like them so much, I eat them raw – which many of my friends and acquaintances think is a little odd! Is it really?

Anyway, here’s my weekly offering. There always seemed to be a mushroom box on the go in our airing cupboard when I was growing up and I loved peeking into the gloom to spot the first white globes peeking through the inky black compost.

I hope you take the time to hop on over to TJ’s blog and read all the tasty poetry – and take part if you feel the urge!

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Consume – dVerse Poetics

freyathewriter 22 Comments

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light,

brilliant, headache-inducing light,

piercing my retinas

until they disintegrate, are no more

than piles of ash on the floor at my flailing feet.

Words and pictures,

boxes, packets, cartons, bottles,

clothed in all the colours of the rainbow

– if a rainbow were acid yellow, puce and lime green.

I can hear the groaning

as shelves bow under the weight of all the produce

that we simply must buy

otherwise our lives are meaningless, somehow.

I hover in the doorway as the glass partitions slide

back and forth

moved by invisible hands.

The devil’s work.

 

Get me out of this hell (that others call a supermarket)

I want to go home.

 

I’m a little late to the party, after a heavy day yesterday, when all I wanted to do was put my feet up and drink coffee. Yesterday was Poetics night over at dVerse, where our genial host, Walt, invited us to write on ‘too much’ drought, deluge, literal or metaphorical.

Anyone who knows me, knows I hate supermarkets these days. All that ‘stuff’ piled high, all those ‘special offers’ all that price-matching and BOGOF’ offers. Ugh, it drives me to distraction. I find it utterly overwhelming and I have no patience for it. A deluge of consumerism at its worst.

What kind of drought or deluge have you in your life? Why not share it with the dVerse community – or just hop on over for a good old read?