consciousprose

[consciousprose]

Tumblr has changed a lot since the last time I logged in! RIP our blogs! I really loved the shuffle feature I had integrated in my HTML layout.

Anyways, who is still writing?

[consciousprose]

Yours

I hope that my secrets 

stay secrets.

Despite transforming

from worries

into words,

flowing from lips

without cease.

Somehow,

my secrets

became yours

to protect.

---

I share my fears and worries when I am the most vulnerable. If you made me feel safe, I will speak. But, as I spill my truth, I hope that your kindness is true.

[consciousprose]

Every pause.

Every stutter…

Tangled tongues,

          Tripping     over     frayed     edges

Of home:

      Across one too many miles

      Of salted seas.

The quieter the children murmur,

Umma’s wrinkles settle deeper,

Her worries spread wider,

Loneliness tasting bitter -

As assimilation the kids devoured,

Is served for supper.

[consciousprose]

sunday

Warm, the tiny slivers of morning light.

Comfort, the melody of their chest fall and rise.

[consciousprose]

There were deep strokes. And, crisp strokes, of sapphire and golden. The clarity churned, into paper cups of praise, glasses of affection,  and chalices of masked opinions.

The bristles are beyond softened. Its tapered toes split open, with the base sodden,  as the metal loosens its teeth on the wooden,

The hues        (have been)        (will be) dilute. The vision blurred and blotted. Confusion.

[consciousprose]

Depression is sitting in a room, thinking about how cold it feels despite all the warm bodies. It’s the feeling of loneliness despite our skin touching, hands intertwining and breaths sharing. It’s the lingering fester of my shame, the blame.

[consciousprose]

As many may be aware, the tag #writerscreed has been banned by tumblr for being explicit. We’re appealing their decision, but in the meantime we can’t see your poetry under the tag. We’ve got an idea.

We can use a different tag until they lift the ban. I’ve checked the tag, and it is working. Please use #wc-writerscreed for now.

It also won’t let you see our blog, though we’re still here! If you search for us with writerscreed, it won’t let you find us as we’re terribly risqué, apparently:/ HOWEVER, when I typed in writersc and stopped, I was able to see our blog.

Happy New Year to everyone.

[consciousprose]

11.19.21

When the sun rises, I sink further into bed. The weight of the night pressing my bones  deep into the springs.

It’s the high-pitched clamor  of the alarms, and the code. The entropy of life ending. Doctors and nurses - all compressing and analyzing,  ventilating and transfusing. “Shock delivered,  He’s pulseless, Let’s resume  with more epi and compressions”,

I compress and compress, suppressing the exhaustion and the distress. He’s still pulseless.

The family makes the final call: No more compression.  No more defibrillation. No more ventilation. No more. No more. No more.

This conclusion replays,  over and over again, until I drift away.

I am exhausted.

[consciousprose]

the beauty of writing is that creativity can’t be forced. inspiration cannot be synthesized from the planned and orderly. if you can’t write, maybe your mind needs a fucking break. 

- you don’t need to be productive all the time.

[consciousprose]

I am with you

Between the stars

Pouring into the spaces

Filling the divots 

Left behind by humble feet

In muddy places

Everywhere you go

and everyplace I can’t be

Let me be with you

In your heart 

At the very least

[consciousprose]

heartbeat, thunder, midnight, echo, mournful, softly, wistful, love, whisper, eternal, notes, voice, rain, starlight, written

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

my dreams now enchanted by ghosts. The familiar swirls

with the fantastic, and I long for the whisper of your kiss

until the sun hangs high on a clear mornings, rolling eyes

& re-reading my notes from yesteryear, oh how far I’ve come,

it’ll be different this time — is what i tell myself in-between

the lines i’ve written, planning this out, etching out phantoms.

The echo of your ghost resounds in the peace of my mornings and in the stillness of my nights

I will forever be missing you and the dreams we had together

At midnight, I saunter out on the dew-laced grass,

hoping some starlight will scatter and form a semblance of you.

& at early bright, your words rain on me

as the faces of our amour drape the dawn.

Peering into the distance, hearing the future cheers of another year arriving softly

I raise a toast without a glass; Here’s to us and what might have been.

It’s time to silence the voice that once longed for you,

To cherish the beauty of horizon before me, 

———————

tagging @drearydaffodil

Rules:

Each poet tagged writes the next two lines of the poem using one of these prompts:

heartbeat, thunder, midnight, echo, mournful, softly, wistful, love, whisper, eternal, notes, voice, rain, starlight, written

then tags another poet. (If you’re too busy, just repost with ‘pass’ and tag another poet) Poem is done when all the words are used!

Another holiday, another reminder of what I once

wanted. My heartbeat keeps snagging on almosts

tagging @distilled-prose !!!

[consciousprose]

lapse

I don't remember

the last time I breathed.

It’s all cold air,

sharp and deep.

The last breath was

September heat,

stifling and broken.

I arose from the night.

Calculating,

Interrogating.

How long have I been running?

Eyes closed and breath held.

[consciousprose]

I’m finally done with one of the most stressful weeks of my life. Thank fuck!

In the coming days, I’ll be sharing poems by yours truly.

I miss you tumblr.

[consciousprose]

scallion pancakes

scallion speckled, pliant dough.

it reminds me of winter evenings,

filled with the sounds

of mom’s love sizzling,

a hot oiled pan.

crisped and savoury,

the taste and texture of home

from too long ago,

filling my belly with warmth.

[consciousprose]

i remember the evenings we spent together, father.

sitting in the garage,  its banged metal door lifted beyond my reach.

georgia heat clinging to skin, beads of sweat competing. an occasional breeze from the east, making such moments just bearable…

holding me to my seat, stopping me from retreating, into the kitchen  where  the heat still hangs upon our limbs. but, a minute spent by an open fridge  or stretched across tile  would release the august grip.

this ritual, is one I remember. the disdain for humid heat, with the smell of black wax coating my nostrils  until laced boots mirrored flush faces.

these were precious hours we would spend. until- duty would call you in combat greens.

leaving me alone. in the garage. no one to raise the door to invite in the breeze or allow me to reflect within waxen mirrors.

[consciousprose]

autumn fog

i am reminded of 

the soft hue of you. 

as the fog 

settles and soothes 

this angry city

with its police sirens,

and misunderstandings,

the crying brothers,

and broken sisters.

the sobered children,

and croaked parents.

when was the last time,

this place felt easy?

the fog softening

the splinters of reality.

when it lifts out of view,

can your love stay

as precious as this?

[consciousprose]

they say they say they say

Your mind changes

swift as autumn winds.

Shifting their direction

east and west.

.

Your love changes

like the nameless woods,

jealous and green,

mellow and yellow,

ardent and scarlet.

.

They compare you and me

to nature beyond this room.

Preaching that when young,

like you and me,

the mind is fickle, 

and there’s no way 

that your love is true,

or deep.

.

What do they know,

about you and me?

Our roots dig deep,

and branches grow thick,

with every push 

and pull of the winds,

every stifling summer

and biting winter,

our leaves learned to wither

and unfurl again.

.

They compare and assume.

But, what do they know about you and me?