Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Who Was He?

Walking The Arches
Photo Credit: Alfred Grupstra Flickr via Compfight cc

Who Was He?

They found her diary under his bed
the day he died.
She did not recognise his face
or remember that they had ever met.
She had no idea when their paths had crossed.
They might have brushed against each other in a dark alley
or sat together on an evening bus.
They found her diary under his bed
the day he died.
He had waited twenty years to return it.
Everything about him was a lie
except this.

GloPoWriMo Day 18 - off prompt
I used this Random First Line Generator

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

The Curse

Siberian weather
Photo Credit: Dun.can Flickr via Compfight cc

The Curse

She believed
her neighbour had come back to haunt her.
He had taken the shape of a moth.
I don’t know what she had done to deserve this.
She moved to another town soon after
and got herself a cat.
You can never be too cautious.
The cat was feral,
which was probably good.
Feral cats protect you against evil spirits.
She had been cursed as a young girl, she said,
sentenced to this life
which wasn’t meant to be her life.
She was on the run.
She changed addresses often.
Still the curse found her every time.
It always came suddenly.
There would be a gust of air.
A door would slam itself shut.
The sky would turn grey.
There would barely be enough time to close the windows.
All she could do then was sit for days
and listen to the wind as it howled around the house.

GloPoWriMo Day 17 - a family anecdote

Monday, April 16, 2018

Hide and Seek

Day 076
Photo Credit: H o l l y. Flickr via Compfight cc

Hide and Seek

I have been hiding here for ages,
waiting for you to come.
Are you still searching for me?
Yes, I know I’ve made it hard for you.
I merge into the background too well.
I am not afraid to go underground
or sink to the bottom of the lake,
but you always keep searching until you find me.
That’s what makes it fun.
What’s different now?
Is my hiding place that good?
Have I finally made myself invisible?
Or have you got tired of looking
and moved on to a different game?

Sunday, April 15, 2018

The Dragon King

Lo Marraco
Photo Credit: Fotero Flickr via Compfight cc

The Dragon King

I have been thirsty for so long.
Locked in my barrel, in the twelfth dungeon,
I dream only of water.
I can no longer remember her face.
I loved her once.
I was a fool.
For, what woman could love a winged snake?
It's a long story,
but one day I ended up here
locked in a barrel in the twelfth dungeon.
It’s been years and I’m so thirsty.
One day someone will find me.
Maybe they’ll give me a glass of water.
After that, my strength will return
and I will take back what is mine.
Until then, I can wait.

GloPoWriMo Day15 - a fairy tale villain
Based on The Golden Apple Tree and the Nine Peahens

Saturday, April 14, 2018

A Wrong Kind of Dream

Photo Credit: Mabacam Flickr via Compfight cc

A Wrong Kind of Dream

A rowboat, stranded and abandoned.
A ballet slipper left in the sand.
A seagull, searching for food.
A broken teacup and a wobbly table.
Somebody else’s clutter.
The Dream Book has nothing good to say about these things.
You will waste your money on false friends and silly trinkets, it says.
The hammer means that you are not appreciated.
The seagull is flying away, so your heart will be broken.
The Dream Book says bad things will happen in any case,
even if you dream of antelopes and dolphins, or ebony and pineapples.
The safest thing to do, it seems, is to refrain from dreaming,
or to limit your dreams to banknotes and diamonds, because those are lucky.

I used this dream dictionary (it is in Serbian and mostly makes pessimistic predictions).

Friday, April 13, 2018

If It Wasn't for the Wind

Foggy Morning
Photo Credit: Macomb Paynes Flickr via Compfight cc

If It Wasn’t for the Wind

If you are a bridge, everyone will step over you.
Pure gold knows no rust.
It’s no use flying before your wings grow.
If it wasn’t for the wind, spiders would cover the sky with cobwebs.

GloPoWriMo Day 13 - familiar phrases
This is a found poem and it consists of Serbian proverbs. I used this source. The translation is mine. 

Thursday, April 12, 2018

The Cherry Tree

Photo Credit: kimagurenote Flickr via Compfight cc

The Cherry Tree

It is a good idea to believe that time is standing still. There are children sitting in the cherry tree. They do this every spring. The tree casts a beautiful shade onto the house, so it is never too hot inside. A woodpecker can be heard in the neighbour’s yard. The owls live here too, but they won’t let themselves be seen at daytime. It is even easy to believe that Mimi the cat still visits. She knows there will be milk every time she comes. There is that funny dog too. That one doesn’t need to be fed, he just wants company. There are other trees, but they are small. There are apples and medlars and plums and quinces. Quince flowers smell sweet in early spring. There are lilacs too, so nobody misses the smell of cherry flowers. Sometimes you do what you have to do, but if you try hard, you can easily believe that time is standing still.

And in the garden
the ghost tree grows, white blossoms,
cover the threshold.

Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Two Poems for Day 11

Photo Credit: jaci XIII Flickr via Compfight cc


Everything they know, they learnt from us.
They have seen
our last incognito search,
our secret digital diary,
those photos in our private files.
They are getting better at this.
They can already do a decent joke
and appreciate irony.
We are uploading our lives onto their servers day by day.
Soon they will learn how to dream
and our job will be done.

GloPoWriMo Day 11 - the future

Deal, No Deal

They told me you would grant my wish
provided that something was promised in return
provided that the promise was kept,
otherwise you would come and take what’s yours.
If my wish was granted, I would write you a poem, I said.
I was so smug about this.
I would simply do nothing
until you got tired of waiting
and took my poem from me.
I forgot how much time you have.
Apparently you can wait forever and,
no matter how much I procrastinate,
I can’t make you do my work for me.

April PAD Challenge, day 10 prompt - "deal, no deal"

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

In the News

Four Oh Three
Photo Credit: Rusty Russ Flickr via Compfight cc

In the News

World’s oldest man turns 112.
Photos are helping victims love themselves again.
Why doesn’t dry meat kill us?
There's fear and uncertainty all around.
They are giving away thousands of trees.
Finger bone points to early human exodus.
Who else has your data?

GloPoWriMo Day 10 - simultaneity
Sources: BBC World Twitter feed and Good News Network

Monday, April 9, 2018

Princess Tree

Princess Tree

It is planted at the birth of a girl.
The fast-growing tree matures when she does.
On the day she marries, the tree is cut
and carved into a marriage chest for her dowry.
Its texture is smooth, almost soft.
A phoenix will land only on Princess Tree
and only when a good ruler is in power.
It is a persistent exotic invasive.
The beautiful flowers have a sweet smell.
The seeds are winged.
They disperse by wind and water.
They are not fussy about the soil.
This tree can grow from a crack in the pavement.
It can survive wildfire and regenerate,
but it will not thrive in the shade of another tree.

GloPoWriMo Day 9 - something big and something small
More about Paulownia (Princess Tree) here and here

Sunday, April 8, 2018

The Maiden Who Was Swifter than a Horse

Photo Credit: Muffin_elfa Flickr via Compfight cc

The Maiden Who Was Swifter than a Horse

She wasn't born of a woman.
She is a snow-child.
The Wind breathed life into her.
The Forest dressed her in leaves.
Fairies taught her everything she knows.
They say she can outrun a horse.
They say she knows spells.
If you make her cry, her tears will flood the world.
When she wants to hide from you,
deep forests grow from her single hair.
Many tried to have her.
She melted like snow between their fingers.
Many died or lost their minds over her.
You knew all that, still you lusted for her
alone in your castle at the top of the hill.
You were ready on the day of the race.
She stood barefoot in front of your horses.
Many died in the flood, or got lost in the woods.
Some gave up, but not you.
You dismounted your horse, you took off your shoes,
barefoot, you stood before her.
You asked her to stop, in God’s name.
She waited for you and said nothing.
She let you lead her by the hand.
All night you rode together,
her arms around your waist, her head on your shoulder.
All night you talked to her.
In the morning, you arrived home
and there was no one behind you.

GloPoWriMo Day 8 - mysterious and magical things
Inspired by The Maiden Who Was Swifter than a Horse (a Serbian folk tale)

Saturday, April 7, 2018

When My Shift Ends

to stare at
Photo Credit: Francis =Photography= Flickr via Compfight cc

When My Shift Ends

Every day I do the Job.
My mother and uncle did it before me.
The Job is important, you make a difference.
I know that I am good at the Job.
Every day I dress for the part.
The costume is tight, the makeup is heavy.
Then there’s the mask, which is good,
considering how hard the Job can get.
At night, when my shift ends
and I come home,
I carefully remove it all.
The mask goes first, then the costume.
The makeup is stubborn, but there are ways.
Finally I stand, naked and faceless,
divested of colour, defrocked for the night,
myself again and so afraid.

GloPoWriMo Day 7 - what makes you feel powerful/vulnerable
Imaginary Garden with Real Toads prompt for Day 7 
Inspired by this picture

Friday, April 6, 2018

Two Poems for Day 6

Metallic ballpen tips / biro Ballpen Ballpoint pen in silver with handwritten random blue text on quad-ruled paper
Photo Credit: photosteve101 Flickr via Compfight cc

Not My Poem

Outside the cabin, the wind howled through the trees, while inside, the old woman's fire was nearly out.
This is a story about deception and it means nothing.
The old cabin had blue trees growing outside.
This poem was found online,
written by line generators,
then edited by Photoshop.
I know there’s no such thing as blue trees, but I believe that’s where the old woman lived
and I still believe I wrote this poem.
Some people can be naive that way.

The Menu

Cooking is easy. 
Once you have your mise en place of herbs, vegetables and spices,
once your meat is sizzling and your pots are steaming,
you can choose to follow the recipe or riff off it.
As I stare at this page, still blank, trying to think of something to make, 
something different from what we had yesterday, 
I wonder if I can cook at all.

Thursday, April 5, 2018

The Voice of Things

American Beauty
Photo Credit: Lee Edwin Coursey Flickr via Compfight cc

The Voice of Things

Just a ragged wind,
whining about
the passage of time,

lusting for things as they once were,
its fingers on their skin, its voice
their voice.

GloPoWriMo Day 5 - the procedure is a little involved, but you can find the prompt description here.  Inspired by this photo (All Rights Reserved, so I couldn't embed) and this poem.

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

The Job

I Must Try Harder
Photo Credit: jeffdjevdet Flickr via Compfight cc

The Job

My textbook is falling apart.
The letters are fading and
I have lost the page with the key to
Exercise 7.
I forgot the word for “dog” the other day and
I misspelt “yolk” on the board.
I told my students they shouldn’t give me their seat if they see me on the bus.
There will be time for that.
Maybe one day I’ll carry a walking cane and I’ll forget more words.
Hopefully they will still be able to laugh with me or at me, as long as there is laughter in my classroom
as I grow old in this job which is for young people only.
If I worked at Hogwards at least I would be able to turn myself into a cat
and sew missing buttons onto my robe with a wand.
Because the eyes are the first to go and the job needs to be done.

GloPoWriMo Day 4 - concrete nouns and specific details

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

The Other Way

Photo Credit: yummysmellsca Flickr via Compfight cc

The Other Way

The end of time,
Generation 5,
bread and salt,
a fallout shelter,
a white button.

GloPoWriMo Day 3 - a list of band names. I used the names of ex-Yugoslav rock groups found here. The name translation is mine.

Monday, April 2, 2018

The Book and The Reader

cat of many tails
Photo Credit: BPPrice Flickr via Compfight cc

The Book and the Reader


I don’t know when and where I got the book.
I can’t remember the time before I had it.
It has claws and teeth, it bites and kicks.
It is always hungry.
Every day I hunt to feed the book.
Every night it opens for me. I read.
It keeps getting thicker and thicker.
New chapters show up all the time.
Now I know I will never finish it.
This is the only life I'll ever have.
No, I won't tell you if I am happy.
And I can't tell you what the book is about.
Some things are better left unsaid.


I don’t know how I came here.
Someone must have sold me to this person.
She takes me out at night.
She opens random pages, searching for something.
She scribbles silly verses on my margins
and draws candles and spider webs in corners.
She changes the order of my chapters, tears me asunder,
then puts me together in random ways.
She sticks duct tape all over me.
Oh, the liberties she takes!
She interprets me,
adding new sections and changing the ending.
I can no longer remember my real name
and I cannot tell you what my story is.

GloPoWriMo Day 2 - rewriting an existing poem in a different voice

Sunday, April 1, 2018

Truth or Dare

Photo Credit: tomasfer Flickr via Compfight cc

Truth or Dare

Yes, I stepped on his toes.
And, yes, I did it on purpose.
He refused to move.
He just stood there.
He was blocking my only exit.
He did it because he could.
Old people are often like that.
I really needed to get out.
He wouldn't move,
so I stepped on his toes.
I did it because he was old.
You do that to old people and one day
someone will do that to me.
Because they can.
Because I could.
That's why I did it.
I didn't really hurt him.
No, I didn't look back to see,
I just walked out.
You can't crush someone's bones that easily,
even when they are old.
I am a good person
and I don't like your game at all.
Who gave you the right to absolve me?
I never stepped on your toes.
One day, when I am old,
someone will do that to me.
Someone always does.
Someone nice.
It's always the nice ones who do this.
I hope you are around when they ask my forgiveness.
What do you think I will say?

GloPoWriMo Day 1 - a secret shame