Flipped Serendipity

finding peace

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Category: 2022

  • On How I Write

    by

    , 
    I did not see it and then I did:
    so pay attention.

    What good are these words,
    that makes you ponder the vast and unknowable
    in the misfortune of others.

    Here be the stories we tell ourselves.
    Instead, ask what I wouldn’t give
    and I’ll tell you
    strength like a memory I’d always wanted to make.

    “It’ll happen by chance”
    Time, peculiar like magic or poetry,
    pouring out its oscillations.

    And. Then. And Now. I was. I am.
    Last night the moon took me back
    and a heartbeat that is rising
    is a parallel universe,
    just fleecing of the cold.
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • The gift of creation

    by

    , 
    I’ve seen many worlds, many realities;
    varying rules and magic that define each
    and the multitude of links and chains that tie
    me to every single one. In mind. Within reach.

    They are dreams but as dreams, they can be
    nightmares too. Claustrophobic walls of the mind
    shaping each fabric that I inhabit. Fear, despair,
    anxiety; locks without keys—just chains and binds.

    In however much the many worlds can fit,
    so too must all endings play. In as many
    door closed, books ended, journeys done,
    so too a new one found and just as many.
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • Waves of the Ocean

    by

    , 
    There’s a ferry
    by the ocean carrying sand
    and all sorts of floating and unanchored
    stuff.

    They’d take from
    the shore, and ruffle with what
    they have, then throw it all way back to
    the beach.

    They’d puff up
    clouds of sand along with froths
    of water; rearranging patterns embedded
    on shore.

    They’d ferry fish
    and urchins and corals and
    jellies, stars, and any sort light enough to
    pull and

    push as the ferry
    goes about deep to shallow and
    shallows to depths unknown, currents far
    and near.

    The ferry comes
    as the wind blows, as the water
    flows. In wave after wave, carving the sand
    by sea.
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • It’s the Fool who moves things forward

    by

    , 
    Come what may, the fool soldiers on.
    Refusing to learn, a foot after the other.

    They say to learn from failures
    but not learning when to give up.

    Giving up means holding your steps—
    turning back and trying elsewhere.

    After all there are other paths to take,
    and similar endings to reach for.

    Such endings are similar, not the same;
    what you want is simply what you want.

    A goal that doesn’t get what you want
    is only denying yourself and your falls. 

    Denying when you keep failing;
    come what may, the fool soldiers on.
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • Anxiety

    by

    , 
    His heart beats akin to the footfalls of runners
    shaking the ground as each one drops a foot
    like blacksmiths tempering blades, the fire
    in his veins, the anxiety as soot.
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • To a healthy Pink

    by

    , 
    Driving down the midnight road
    hailed by a woman pale. Unwittingly
    stopping by her and taking her with.

    “Take me home,” she says—no,
    pleads. Battered and bloody, tired
    eyes from neglect and abuse,
    she pleads for rest, for hope.

    She had been taken advantage of,
    and surrendered; but she still stands
    strong. Buffeted by storms, she stands
    tall. Taken ill and hardly attended to,
    she soldiers on.

    For help, where else can it be? Nurses
    and doctors rush, for whom else to turn towards
    but those trained? In every step, every attempt,
    her skin flourishes. From pale to peach
    to a healthy pink. Who else could save her
    but those who take action, who has proven themselves?
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • Icarus

    by

    , 
    She was like the sun in the way
    I’d like to be millions of miles away.
    But much like the fool Icarus,
    I find myself falling and choose
    to seek the high of freedom—not
    reason. It’s a gamble sought
    with nary a chance like a coin flip
    and choosing the side. A slip
    of judgement, falling from the sky,
    reaching for that same sun, I—
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • Dull

    by

    , 
    Pound after
    pound, hack
    and hack
    until you run
    out of breath,
    of life. Defined,
    insanity is
    to repeat the
    same act and
    expect different 
    results. A dull 
    ax does not
    cut.
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • Night and Day

    by

    , , 
    Good mornings and good nights
    come out of habit and out of 
    love—making them part of everyday.

    From waking up to the end of day,
    they’re part of yours until the night
    descends. They become a part of

    you in sun up and at lights off.
    As time passes, even in your day-
    dreams they come. And no night-

    mares shall keep them off, night or day.
    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt

  • Scars

    by

    , 
    It’s just simple teasing until
    you go too far. Scars blight
    friendships, and may not heal.

    And like taking the lead,
    stepping down means having
    your legs weigh like lead.

    Vision blurred, a criss to
    cross of feelings red; of scars
    like Zobel’s Saeta No. 42.

    Where do lost things go?

    Fernando Zobel’s Saeta No. 42

    Na/GloPoWriMo Prompt
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