Culture

Poetry

New week, new poems! The writing prompt for today is:

A very small object


Culture

Priyanka means ‘beautiful’,
in a language I can call my own,
it is fun to curl next to my Culture at night,
to be able to call it home.

Many people envy that,
they do not have such a Bubble,
maybe it is because they must find their culture,
in other people’s rubble.

The roof of the house only came crashing down,
I tell them,
because one of your ancestors wanted Greed.
They wanted more than they could bargain for,
and so their limits they did exceed.

Their house grew and grew until it could fit no more,
whilst people of my culture,
were left to wash the floors.

Now, my home is beautiful,
with bright colours and small trinkets,
it has been enhanced.
Perhaps that is why the Names that live here,
are more freely able to dance.

 

 


This poem was written as part of National Novel Writing Month 2017 [Day 12, Poem #6]

Remember

Poetry

This was originally meant to be posted yesterday, but my internet crashed 😦

I thought it was appropriate on Remembrance Day, to write a poem around that theme.


Remember

If I am to remember,
what does that truly mean?

Does it mean to remember the guns fired,
to watch the scarlet blood gleam,
or to touch the spirits who are still alive today,
and hold them in high esteem?

If I am to remember,
what am I to forget?
For it is difficult to say I am sorry,
when we have never met.

If the poppy grows in barren lands,
where do memories grow?

The brain does not work like a field,
but poppies don’t either, I bet.
Where does Time go when it comes home,
made old by rust and regret?

 


This was written as part of National Novel Writing Month 2017 [Day 11, Poem #5]