NaPoWriMo 2016: Week Two

Into week two of this years challenge and finding this a very enjoyable experience; i am in some cases now following the promts as given on the NaPoWriMo website; but if not following as such then finding inspiration in them. There are lots of other wonderfull poetry to be found on the website below, along with numerous poetry writing tips and prompts:

http://www.napowrimo.net/about/

 

DAY EIGHT

It lay in my bloodied hand
The rose cut fresh
Slicing flesh

Velvet red and sensual
Deep scarlet blooms
Hiding the thorns

Blooms where yesterday
Tightly wrapped buds
Sought the sun

And tomorrow petals
Fall dead
Upon sacred ground

I remembered the kiss
That cursed
At dusk

I remember his perfume
I brush my face
With the scarlet

Hidden thorns strike
Brushing my lips
With blood

Memories bloom in shadow
Curses never leave
Unlike the crumpled rose

 

DAY NINE

I stole just one kiss
A dark kiss not mine to steal
Dam it was so good

 

DAY TEN

Running and running yet somehow not getting anywhere
I may be dreaming I thought; this is not real
How can it be and how did I get here?
And the ‘English Place Name’s I encountered
As I ran by seemed just so surreal; unreal
I was on a quest; that much I knew
Seeking ‘The Keys of Enoch’
But only ‘The Goddess of The Labyrinth’ could help me find them
Where was she?
So in I tumbled head-long into the labyrinth
In a rather Alice-like fashion
Yet not a white rabbit in sight
Just old tales, old myths that wove in and out of my mind
On a repeat loop within my head
Chivalry and Knights, of deeds fought and won
Of mystery and magic
Jousting for the hand of a mythical princess
‘The Legends of King Arthur and his Knights’
Spiralled in and out of my brain as I sought the centre
‘The Hero Myths and Legends of the British Isles’ were birthed at The centre of this labyrinth or so the story goes
But how would I get there to find that elusive key?
Or would it simply take ‘The Thousand and One Night’
That I was told it would
But suddenly I was whisked off my feet Dorothy-fashion
By a spiraling storm that plucked me from the centre of the Labyrinth just as I reached it
I held on in the storm as dark winds roared around me
And rain beat down upon my head
And then it stopped, ceased, silence
And I found myself in front of the fallen angel
In ‘Rosslyn and The Western Mystery Tradition’
Home again where I belonged
With heart and soul combined as one

 

DAY ELEVEN

Golden childhood days innocently spent on timeless Norfolk beaches
Sun shining twenty four seven or so it seemed looking back
The long endless summer days where dreams and adventures came to life
And everyday normal life came to a standstill
Summer by the sea yet only two weeks out of real time
But two weeks when time and tide ceased to exist
Bright coloured buckets and spades were all we needed
And an enthusiastic dad who knew all the castle building tricks
For our constructions were always the biggest and most complicated with the longest and deepest moat
Fed by sea water as we held our breath at each approaching wave
We took it seriously and made fantasy worlds amongst the sands
Where princesses, dragons and wizards peopled our minature worlds
At night we donned huge black rubber inner tubes to float dream-like on the warm whispering salty waves
Then kicked for life and for the shore when the sea floor sank away
Fun fairs and penny arcades were an evening delight
Donned in pretty cotton dresses, frilly petticoats and clean white socks
A far cry from the day attire of elasticated swim suits clogged with wet sand
And ninety nines were the latest craze then
So devour them we did
The skies were ever blue, the sand always warm, our hair and toes always full of this damp gritty delight
We ceased to dream for we knew we had it all…
A dark vibe gathered over Europe

 

Day Twelve

Silk sheets and whispers

Passion flowing; fires building

Come the dawn; silence

 

Day Thirteen

Giving love to one
Forever in Shadow Land
Spirit tests the Soul

 

Day Fourteen

If I close my eyes tight and try not to cry
I can still see the blue waves on the shore
Washing over the magic circle inscribed
Upon the wet sand
Four poems you said
That was all it would take
A poem for each corner of the world

 

But the blue waves upon the shore
Seemed to pierce my heart
Breaking through the magic circle
I had cast tight around myself
A circle of hope
A circle of four poems
Squaring my circle

 

You were of this world you said
Yet I always saw your other worldy aura
The magic circle that surrounded you
With blue waves on the shore line; pulsating
I gave my heart
With four poems
But they took you home…..

 

 

 

Angel 2

 

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Author: The MidKnight Garden & Midknights Tellings

Follower of the true Old Ways, tutor, writer, poet, photographer, lover of the arts, gigs and theatre. My love for my path and writing is a constant source of joy and inspiration to me.

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