When life is a question does anybody have an answer?

(When life is a question does anybody have an answer?)

What am I going to do with my life? he asks

Can you really answer that? she responds

Why can’t I just get on with my life?

What kind of a life do you want to get on with?

Can we take this in another direction?

What direction do you want to go?

Can I consider space?

Is space what you want to do with your life?

Can I be buried in space?

To be jettisoned into the universe?

Why not?

Do you want your body to expand twice its size?

That’s what would happen?

Can you see yourself frozen in space for millions of years?

What if I’m close to a star?

Do you want to burn to a crisp?

Why are you asking all these questions?

Do you really want an answer?

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NaPoWriMo Day 28 prompt to write a poem of questions.

When life is a question does anybody have an answer?

When I Think About Rooms

When I think about rooms

the one that encompassed me

front door corridor

entryway

dark hardwood door

no windows

rarely used

darker in its none use

where no one went in or out

(always the side door)

but this room

with its front door

that held a way in and out

held me as a three year old

who sat on the bench

with hinged top for boot or shoe

other side was closet

a closet rarely opened

such a small room

for my small person

remembered now

_________________

NaPoWriMo prompt on describing a room remembered

When I Think About Rooms

In My Home Office

In my home office

a demanding task

never time for a cover-up

as I sit near my coffee cup

 

upright at my standing desk

there’s no time to letup

have at least 3 computer screens

as I work during this quarantine

 

just do a personal checkup

in a fit of hygiene

sterilize my triple keyboard

this practice not to be ignored

 

getting tired but must reconvene

keep it real not overboard

here on my wall the world map

putting together my word wrap

 

there is so much unexplored

new words for my legal rap

surrounded by photographs

always helps with my paragraphs

 

piles of paper on my lap

hope right now I don’t collapse

mail ordered a rocker board

never enough java stored

 

thinking of days with giraffes

praying to God I don’t get bored

now it’s time to light the lamp

end the day with writer’s cramp

 

night sets sail— come aboard

tackle this case like a champ

excuse me for I hear the printer

thankful to be the breadwinner

 

someday I’ll be out of home camp

anyday or perhaps midwinter

meanwhile I must be cautious

taking care to not feel nauseous

 

 

imagining a lobster dinner

stuck here in my home office

looking so statuesque

this is my manifest

In My Home Office

I want to write like Dali

I want to write like Dali painted

disjointed

everything capable

of fluidity whether a horse

or time

or an elephant and rhino on stilts

elongate the llllllls

create more holes in the OOOOOOs

put a whole world inside just one

put a landscape on the table

a seascape in knees

find paragraphs

that grow trees

 

________________

dVerse prompt on surrealism

 

 

 

I want to write like Dali

Woman in the Moon

Last night I dreamt I was the moon and I was the woman in the moon. I was the woman on the moon after a successful voyage with my rocket-fueled mooncraft. The moon was both in me and around me. I had always been the moon. Blood moon ran through my veins. Wolf moon always started a howl. The moonlight was penetrating from my skin. I was aglow.

I set up cycles that few could understand so they made me a goddess. Being content with that, I never asked to be worshipped. I never asked for those sacrifices. All I ever wanted was for you to see my beauty, to witness how I would fade away and come back and pull on your oceans.

In all of my fullness you must beware. I am the source for lunatic. Do not look long on me.

 

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dVerse prompt on a prose writing of 144 words based on the poetic line by Alice Oswald which is in italics.

Woman in the Moon