whisperingstorm

[whisperingstorm]

For day 3 I found a different prompt by #bhpnapo22

"Here's to my ancestors"

My Noni has a book of newspaper clippings.

They describe the lives of the women and men

Who came before us, who made it so we

Could be where we are today.

Here's to the women who flew

Unchaperoned across Europe with a prince.

I wonder where the jewels he sent her went

Here's to the women who drove her horses

To church, who were wild and unbound.

I wonder if she is why horses are in our blood.

Here's to the women and men who on a dare

Got married when they were betrothed to others.

I wonder how their relationship developed after the first year.

Here's to the ancestors whose stories

I have not heard, but still paved the path

To where we are today.

#myancestors #napowrimo2022

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#napowrimo day 2- the prompt was to find a word featured by Haggard Hawks on his Twitter, and I spent forever looking through words.

"Fair maid of February"

There she dances under the oaks,

My fair maid of February.

Such delicate pale petals that folk

Can hardly call ordinary.

This fair maid she glows with sundust

Floating all around her in the brisk

Morning air. You may not want to rush

To pluck the fair maid lest you risk

Her toxic nature in such a lovely bell.

The fair maid of February may blossom

At the end of winter, she can fell

A man, so perhaps observe her with caution.

#snowdropflower #napowrimo2022

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#napowrimo day 1: prompt is a prose poem about the body.

I wish I could see me how you do. The media tells us what is beautiful, and I do not fit into that cookie cutter. I hated my body for not looking like the ones the media feeds us. You ask me, "how I do not see myself as beautiful?" And yes it is the media, but also it is due to him. He who I thought was the love of my life. He watched me struggle, watched me start to decorate my body with ink to make it more mine. And for seven years I was rarely told I was beautiful by the person I loved more than anything.

You tell me you see lovely soft curves, that my hair is beautiful ringlets that are wild. You tell me you see strength, that I am ethereal. I wish I could see it, but the mirror shows me something fragile, something that does not fit how my inner eye says I should look. I will never fit into what the media says is beautiful, but I know you see me as the cool rain, an ocean breeze, the brilliant colors of dusk. Maybe I will me as you do, and no longer as he did.

#poetry #napowrimo2022 #bodydysmorphia

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Some more of my favorites from #fairyary2022

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I wanted to share yesterday's prompt for fairyary: Elemental, so of course I drew heavily from Avatar the Last Airbender

[whisperingstorm]

It's been a year and

The bruises and small cuts have healed

And yes, I sit behind a wheel.

Yet the fog is still around and it will

Flash

There's a dark mass coming too fast in my vision

Flash

All I hear is the car horn screaming

Flash

The first breath as my vision clears to shattered glass

Flash

Panic squeezes chest and throat

Flash

It's been a year and

The pain of him not coming to be by my side

Still rips my heart some and

How could he not understand I needed him?

Flash

It's him not being present with me

Flash

So many years holding a tattered relationship together

Flash

It's the breaking that made you see, not my almost death

Flash

There was no trust and only blame

Flash

It's been a year and

If I am doing better

Then why am I still holding on

To the flashes of pain?

[whisperingstorm]

Inktober day 17: Storm

Another favorite Inktober sketch

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One of my favorite Inktober sketches I've done at far ( Day 5: blade)

[whisperingstorm]

I thought I was swimming,

Free-diving into ocean blue.

Only to discover I was drowning,

All for you.

Finding up near impossible,

There seemed to be no light.

At last I follow bubbles

To hidden sight.

Closer to breaking through

Yet I can't help but look

Does to search for you.

Only to find you've gone and took

All my hold that I did not

Almost drown for nothing.

(September 2020)

[whisperingstorm]

I feel small, fragile

Like a teacup.

Part of me wants to tear

Tear it all down, rip

Rip to shreds and maybe

I'll re-emerge like a butterfly

From it's cocoon of goo.

Part of me wants to scream

Scream I am strong

Strong and I will not feel

Like a teacup forever.

Part of me wants to wilt

Wilt and wither away

Away to decay and never

Shall I feel again. My body

Truly will belong to the ground.

This body does not feel

Feel like mine when fragile.

Fragile like a teacup.

Sometimes its only bits and parts

Like my hands, or legs.

This body does not look

Look like mine in the mirror

Mirror which reflects lies

To my eyes. It shouts

Out how fractured I am.

This body does not move

Move like mine in the way that I want

Want to glide and not fall

Onto the ground at the first

Tremble of my heart.

(May 2020)

[whisperingstorm]

There's an exchange of words

Deep and meaningful.

Yet those ideas have been

Many of the deeper talks.

The meaningful words I need

Are not present

I need what may not be important

Important to the standings of the world.

Except you are my world.

And this is important to me.

Deep and meaningful: I love you.

Exchange of words: I need you.

Yet these ideas have been

Put on hold as the world burns.