Writing takes practice and writing poetry is no different. As an introduction to poetry, I took up the challenge to write eight poems in eight days. The idea of the challenge is simple; on the first day, I would write a one line poem. On the second day, I would write a two line poem. On the third day, I would write a three line poem. So on so forth. Below are the results.
A walk under the scorching Sun of noon.
Our bodies use to be in shape for work and play,
But now we pay to work our bodies into shape.
Indecisions are common and real,
Since life is far too short and frail,
For mis-steps and indecisions.
The air is dense, so dense it is suffocating,
while musky steams, steams the life within.
Languid is the scene that is seen unchanging,
as time passes, un-passed is the place I’ve been.
When the sweetness leaves me,
I long for it to reappear.
Should the stars favour me,
A day will come when the dream is near.
A dream of laughter and a dream of tear.
A shoulder for her head to lean,
A hand for her to hold.
A pair of ears and eyes so keen,
And jacket for the cold.
Afar in the rose city,
Let her heart be told.
The speaker stood screaming into his microphone;
Lips trembling, fist’s shaking,
Spits flies out his mouth like debris from an uncontrolled detonation.
Yet with all this screeching, in his passion he’s alone;
Boys’ sleeping, girls’ texting,
While Life is drained from the room like air from a balloon deflation.
What inspiration, revelation, and justification for the utter revulsion.
Some slouched with pain and age,
While others over phone and page.
Some wore frames for poor eye sight,
Others did to keep out light.
Small plastics in all the ears,
To aid, or to block out what they hear.
Hair dyed white, white hair dyed, till none remain,
Youth fades, until tablets are not touched but taken, again.