My Brother

My brother, how I love him

to the moon, and all the clichés

I wasn’t the best at sharing

but we played the greatest games,

witches and wizards, castles galore

the quests we set for each other

with mum as the ogre, unaware

tiny hands reached into the cupboards,

before tiptoeing back up the stairs

our chocolate box was full to the brim

never a day would go by without my best friend

the warrior, my brother, that’s him,

play fighting, quietly eating our prize

time did not stop for our kingdom our pride

the princess and her jester grew up

and the witch had to put her imagination aside,

and so the boy played on, for a while without her

then life tripped us up without warning

we grasped on for our minds through their pain

as our new lives arose, a new kingdom was dawning,

angry faces and crying eyes overcame

for the boy and the girl, there was no more playing

though they fought, valiant and brave

there was no doubt our minds were paying,

without my brother as my guide

I stumbled and lost my way for a while

through my shattered kingdom I fell

the strength of the girl we once knew was revived,

she picked me up and turned me around

the boy, my brother will always be my best friend

and although our games are now at rest

we talk and we laugh, our world has no end,

you pick me up with your words like magic

no matter where we are or what we do

how you know just what to say, it must be our hearts

and for that, my brother, I love you.

 


Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Buff 

So, you might be asking, what on earth has ‘buff’ got to do with this girl’s brother? Well… see for yourself.

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Just Another Love Story

Girl meets girl, meets boy meets everyone,

boy meets boy, meets you meets me.

Who we are doesn’t matter to anyone but everyone,

closed eyes dark souls, they can’t see.

 

Girl meets you, meets me meets anyone,

kiss my cheek, they grasp for my hand.

They look backwards, away from anyone,

lonely you lonely we, walk the beaches toes in sand.

 

Boy meets girl, meets anyone meets everyone,

my heart touches yours, we radiate above.

They find us, confusion, anger, then acceptance,

our happiness transcends their fears, they see our love is love.


Yeah I’m not a huge fan of this style, but it’s all about getting the cogs into motion and all of this daily prompt stuff is helping with the bigger writing picture I have outside of the blog. Maybe one day I’ll learn how to actually write poetry. Knowing me, probably not.

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Radiate 

The Small Boob Haiku

The blogger behind Really Great Gift Ideas requested the most brilliant request ever requested, so I had to say yes. The request was that I write a poem about small breasts. When I set out to do it, it turned out to be a lot harder than I anticipated, so for now I have a booby haiku for you. More may follow if my creative boob kicks in.

I hope you like it!


“The Small Boob Haiku”

Proudly small and pert
A part of you to cherish
Our glorious breasts

We Survive

We wake

rise and shine

but our lights are flickering

we eat

vultures in the haze

the taste is bitter yet we swallow

we roam

aimless and silent

our legs grow tired sooner than before

we sit

thinking and still

thoughts of then and when never now

we sleep

broken and lonely

our company cold as death

we live

lungs breathing heart beating

this is how we survive.


Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Survive

Your Lies

 

Their lies become your lies

What you need, who you are

Everything they want you give to them

believing it to be for the best

receiving nothing in return

Time cements lies into values

and truth tellers become extremists

Harming others is second nature

you don’t need excuses

it’s just how it is now

their lies tell you it’s okay and you believe it

I stand up to tell you there is another way

but you mock me back down

their lies are your lies now

your lies are the only truth you hear

My truth is offensive

it threatens to crumble the mountain of lies

built up over years of manipulation

closing minds and slamming doors

their lies kill hope and freedom

but you believe it is better than the alternative

an alternative no one knows

yet everyone despises

How much longer can the world last

breathing in the lies that you inherited

suffering torture dressed as tradition

watching its children bleed and cry

how much longer will you live by your lies?


I’ll be working on this one, I think it deserves more time than a few minutes of speed writing. It has the potential to really hit upon a lot of what I’ve been trying to speak out for recently, so you might be seeing Your Lies again in the near future.

Daily prompt from The Daily Post: Farce