Day 30: Goodbyes

(Even though there are technically 31 days in August, I only have 30 prompts, and so this will be the final poem of this particular challenge. If I can find another version of this challenge and I have the time, I'd love to do it again! And now for the final poem, to finish up the challenge started with hellos.)

We stand here
under the cold
street light
trying to find words
in which to tie
loose ends,
but within a
sense of finality
there are open doors
to an elusive possibility
of another beginning,
another hello.

Day 29: Acrostic

Evanescent brilliance
Pales into the mirrors of minds
Hounded by the thoughts of
Eternity,
Material and abstractions will only 
Ever disappear with time and we must dive into the
Rote of learning of
Appreciation not preservation when faced with the ever fleeting
Light

Day 28: Blackout Poem

lifelong 
obsession finding 
love spending 
days
for a 
colour always 
graceful 
elusive 
and comfortable.
 close to perfection a true romance 
happened by chance 
waiting for me. 
a slip, 
a whimsy that 
made me smile. 
I made my way 
to full-on love in an instant.

Day 27: Dialogue

The voice comes 

slicked with the 

blue-green sheen of 

oil, 

You never 

did mean much 

to anyone, 

they might have smiles 

around you

but they're just 

painted on. 

I know it's not true, 

don't lead me to think otherwise;

You're just a fraud with 

half a heart on 

her sleeve, 

if they saw the black feathers 

underneath the 

white plumage 

they would leave you 

like she did. 

They wouldn't, 

they're not like her; 

And yet you haven't changed: 

still a burden, 

still useless, 

still so pathetic. 

Please just 

leave me alone; 

But how can I 

if I'm just a part 
of you? 

Day 26: Someone I Wish I Knew

She was sitting 

on the ledge of 

a fading house, 

so vibrantly coloured 

next to the 

peeling paint:

red hair 

yellow dress 

purple sneakers. 

I sat in the park 

across from her, 

watching 

her head bowed as 

she scribbled in her

notebook,

and as I walked past her 

towards home, 

I glanced and saw
her drawing of a girl

looked somewhat 

like me.

Day 25: Based Off My Favourite Myth/Mythology

(I am such a mythology geek, I didn't even know where to start! I love all different sorts of myths from different cultures, particularly Greek and Norse mythology, but I decided to go with Greek mythology for this, with a focus on the myth of Persephone and Hades.)

She wanders the fields

where sweet flowers 

entrap the innocent

and summer was 

 swiftly taken on

the wheels of the underworld; 

she is given temptation 

to stay

presented in

tiny ruby red 

packages that bleed 

with sweetness 

and promises 

that she was never made 

for the light.

Day 24: Twenty-four Words

(Fun at the CNE last night! It helped lift my mood after a very long week)

Within the midst 

of a summer night 

I am spun 

in a dance of lights that

twirl and

entwine through 

the cracks in 

myself.

Day 23: A List

Things that I keep inside my heart

• a folder with written mementos I received with love
• a box of crumpled letters and messages I never sent
• a shelf of bottled up emotions
• 1 half full bottle of anger
• 1 almost overflowing bottle of sadness
• a book full of half-finished poems and stories
• a stone full of crushing doubts
• a grain of hope

Day 22: Perspective of My Favourite Fictional Character

(I have way too many favourite characters, so I just chose one that I had actually been talking to someone about earlier today)

It started off 

as a game, 

where did we go wrong? 

It was all fun and now 

I'm sitting in 

the middle of nowhere, 

mother's scarf wrapped 

around my neck, 

drawn to the allure 

of the bottle 

full of 

nostalgia 

with the lip painted

the same shade of 

lipstick as hers. 

We tried to grow up 

so fast,

so young. 

Darkness is 

now an old friend, 

and has taken to whispering 

to me, 

grinning as it 

pushes me towards 

the edge of sanity. 

Day 21: Advice I'd Like to Give People

(A reminder to all of my friends who are sad, and just need this reminder)

Breathe. 

When the world 

feels like it's 

crumbling around you 

and crushing you 

under the rubble;

when anxiety clouds 

your mind

and you feel so 

utterly alone; 

when everything 

feels so terribly wrong:

breathe.

Everything is going to be ok.

Day 20: Both Sides of a Relationship

(Dedicated to A, as I wish our friendship was never lost, but I suppose the end was inevitable.)

                                          She is my best friend.          She is my best friend.

    She keeps me grounded when my mind is too          She lifts me back on my feet when I feel the

                                            far up in the clouds.           world holding me down.

              Her sharp tongue keeps me on my toes           Her soothing voice coaxes me into moments

                              in lighthearted battles of wit.           of calm and gentle silences. 

   She listens sincerely and whole kindheartedly           She talks to me about things secret to everyone

                                       when nobody else will.           else around her.

                                           She is my other half.           She is my other half.

Forever is what we promised.

                                 She had to move last week           She had to stay last week

                                         and leave me behind.            and I left her behind. 

                             She doesn't live far away but            She doesn't live far away but  

           she's too far away from me and my side.           distance stretches when she's not by my side.

                                               Emails everyday?           Calls everyday?

                                                           I promise.            I promise.

Promises never truly lasted forever when we were so young

I suppose.

                                       She is my best friend,              She is my best friend,

                       though I'm not so sure anymore.             though I'm not so sure anymore.

        She's starting to change over the months,              She's starting to change over the months,

             she's not the same friend I had before.              she's not the same friend I had before. 

                       Her tongue has turned its blade,              Her comfort has turned cold,

                       her words are sharp and cut me.              her indifference chills my heart. 

    I stopped calling so I didn't have to hear her              I stopped emailing so I didn't have to see her

                                          and her accusations.             lifeless insincere words.

                                 She stopped emailing me.              She stopped calling me.

                                  Fear sinks into my heart:               Anxiety settles into my mind:

                                                    She hates me.             She hates me. 

We were left with unfinished silence 

to pick up the pieces. 

                             I wonder where she is now.               I wonder where she is now. 

              Brief emails pepper silences once in               Brief messages break stillness once in

                                                    a blue moon,              a blue moon,

            though those have seemed to stop too.             though those have seemed to stop too.

                                  She was my best friend,              She was my best friend,

                         and now she's only a stranger.             and now she's only a stranger.

Day 19: Based Off a Picture

(This is very late, I apologize. I got carried away trying to finish a game.)

She falls 

into the 

pinpoints of 

her life, 

grasping for sense 

within the 

unruled nature 

of her mind

and building 

constructions to house 

her memories and 

unfinished thoughts 

she is left 

in a void of 

ambiguous space.

Day 18: Starting With One Word and Ending With the Opposite

Surrounded by 

hazy streetlights 

that attempt to 

mimic daylight shining 

through the window,

I sit in the noise 

of my mind 

as the time trickles by

in those nights 

at 2 in the morning 

where I am

so awake and

utterly alone.

Day 17: About a Natural Disaster

 The Earth shifts 

and groans,

slowly opening 

wounds that run 

deep into

her core, 

revealing her blood 

running hot;

yet within her 

own self-destruction, 

she is still 

creating.

 

Day 16: With a Hidden Meaning

This poem, 

this sentence, 

these words 

are meaningless. 

Day 15: Point of View of a Book

(this is not about one particular book, but books in general. Also includes a bonus haiku that I created with my cousins)

Forced beyond 

the appearance of covers

into my sea 

of words readers 

dive, 

snaring them 

into the lives 

of those who 

populate  

fading pages; 

much like 

my readers, 

I am a universe 

hidden inside 

an unassuming 

shell. 

--------------

I'm not a coaster 

Don't abuse my broken spine 

Just read and enjoy. 

Day 14: Place I'd Like to Visit

(This is very much inspired by the books I read when I was younger. Venice has always held such an allure for my younger self, and it still casts a romantic charm on me now.)

 Crumbling beauty 

of buildings shadow the

brightly coloured 

tourists, 

so much like 

flitting migrating tropical birds 

wandering as the 

city breathes 

and pulses

with its lifeblood 

crisscrossing 

in multiple 

veins.

Day 13: Response to a Shakesperean Sonnet

XVII
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice, in it, and in my rhyme.

 You with your 

aureate tongue,

so worn out 

and overwrought, 

like wine that 

has been 

aged beyond 

its time; 

euphonious are

your words, 

speaking of the 

heavenly beauty 

found in your 

subject, 

and yet beauty 

is all you speak of, 

and the people 

would point out

your lies;

no such person 

existed except within 

the chimerical whims 

of your mind.

Day 12: Stranger's Perspective

(This was really really hard, and I'm not even sure why. Excuse the tardiness of this poem and the quality. Dedicated to that one guy who I caught staring at me when I was taking pictures downtown.)

Walking down the 

street, 

feeling weighed down 

with the humidity 

of the summer air

and lightened 

by the smoke that 

filled my lungs 

and core, 

a curious figure cuts 

the scene of 

bustling people

with a camera 

in hand 

stock still

in the middle of the sidewalk. 

I gaze at her, 

carefully, 

cautiously, 

so as not to bore 

into her, 

watch as she's enveloped 

in the scene behind 

her viewfinder.

Her eyes 

flicker to mine, 

and I drop my gaze, 

rushing past her, 

though I'm stuck wondering 

what made her stop 

on a hot mid-summer afternoon 

to capture in 

her camera.

 

Day 11: Based Off One of My Favourite Lyrics

(This was really challenging, considering I don't really have much of favourite lyrics, or a favourite song even, but I chose a piece that has always kind of stuck with me.)

For reasons unknown 

I had thought of him

today, 

thought of our years together 

and the eventual unraveling 

of us.

And I had realized

where I used to 

see ghosts,

there are only 

faint feelings of nolstalgia, 

and all of the sadness 

that once held onto me 

to the bitter end

has faded into 

the distance, 

now only

gentle fleeting memories and 

fading photographs 

of a time

where he and I 

had made every single moment count. 

Now

the time on 

the clocks we had shared 

is moving on, 

and I have been carried 

along with it 

to a different precious moments 

with someone else. 

Day 10: Moon

 She illuminates 

the sky, 

with her consorts 

her stars that are 

outshone by her 

 sempiternal glow. 

Gently 

caressing the 

faces of those who 

stare up at her,

she places a

soft touch 

in the hearts of the 

romantics that write 

odes to her 

beauty. 

She eludes 

capture 

of anything more 

than the human eye

before she disappears 

with the aubade 

harking the rise of 

her sister 

the sun. 

Day 9: Honest Poem About Myself

I am unremarkable,

no revolutionary ideas 

to call my own, 

no event shocking enough 

to leave an impression, 

no calling card for the 

universe to recognize me by. 

I'm merely a girl, 

full of juxtapositions and 

contradictions: 

a mouth that habitually lies

and a self that values truth, 

a selfish heart 

with a need to give away too much, 

a noisy mind 

that rarely voices itself; 

strong yet fragile, 

breakable, 

like steel that has been tempered 

too often. 

I am unremarkable, 

just like most girls, 

but I am full of thirst 

for beauty, 

love and 

prose.

Day 8: Describe a Colour

(Kudos to you if you can figure out what colour I'm talking about, although I think I gave it away in the last line. Also, I'm going to be away until Monday afternoon, so I'll catch up on my missed days when I get back, I promise!)

It's the colour 

of the fog 

that I see when I 

close my

eyes, 

of waking up to a 

dawn without 

the traces of the sun 

other than the 

dull glow hidden 

behind heavy clouds, 

the mess of 

ambiguity 

where nothing is ever 

black or white.

Day 7: Something That Makes Me Happy

Click. 

Let the shutter 

freeze the 

moment 

that human eyes 

let pass

without another thought. 

Click. 

Paint pictures 

using reality,

manipulating

light and

perspective. 

Click. 

Drift into 

observation, 

anonymous behind 

the face of a lens. 

Click. 

Let the camera become 

your tool and 

your eye.

Day 6: Season Metaphor

Summer is the 

capricious youth:

bathing in the

stillness between 

the sowing of spring and 

the harvesting of autumn

with moods quick to 

dour clouds and 

elate sunshine; 

like the fireflies that 

flickers around her, 

she is
ephemeral 

fleeting and 

brilliant.

Day 5: Eulogy

(I was absolutely stuck on this prompt for the whole day, until I realized that eulogies did not necessarily have to be for a deceased person. Have some short praise written for one of my favourite authors of all time, Neil Gaiman.)

Here's to the
crafter of words,
the man who 
spins tales of

ancient gods fighting for recognition
 among the hostile world
of modern America

underground cities
with a secret named Door

Morpheus and his siblings
who must adapt to survive

magic beings and 
a pond (or ocean?) hidden
in fragmented childhood memory

and many more filled
with tangled wordplay
and plots that demand
to be devoured,
leaving his readers
drunk in
his worlds.

Day 4: Dictionary Entry

Toska noun /ˈtō-skə/

1. the fire in that
   unplaceable part of
   your heart
2. longing for
   something that you can
   only perceive as
   intangible fog
3. that humming and
   aching within your
   bones that sets
   you on edge
4. the sense of you
   feeling everything
   and nothing
   at all

Day 3: Based Off Of My Favourite Fairytale

(The Robber Bridegroom isn't exactly my favourite fairytale, but I do enjoy it a lot, as I do all Grimm fairytales.)

An exchange is made 

between two men, 

a distrustful bride as

commodity,

 the bridegroom all charm 

and invitations.

She turns down the path 

to his house 

in the middle of the 

dark forest, 

following the ash 

and trailing behind 

the fruits of her 

life.

Turn back, turn back

cries the bird, 

screeching of 

murderers and 

cannibals. 

 

A creaky old woman 

in the cellar

as old as the house 

whispers secrets and 

plans of escape 

as the bird 

cries out its warning 

a final time.

She watches: 

one other maiden 

three glasses of wine 

one death 

one feast 

one golden ring attached to a finger. 

She escapes 

full of secrets and 

a plan. 

A wedding banquet 

lavishly furnished with 

the bridegroom's lies, 

she spins tales of 

a dream 

that is the truth, 

with the golden ring and finger 

as the funeral bells

for the robber bridegroom.

Day 2: To My Future Self

You are a stranger to me, 

made up of complex choices and 

feelings and 

traveled paths I have not 

yet walked on or 

approached.

But I trust that you don't 

have that many 

ghosts of regret.

Do you still feel that 

humming in your bones, 

the ones that set your 

mind on edge? 

Do you still silence yourself 

when you feel 

the words would break you and 

everything else?

I hope you don't. 

And perhaps you'll 

look in the mirror 

tomorrow and 

within fragments 

of yourself 

remember the 

girl you used to 

be. 

Day 1: Hellos

I'm attempting a 30 day poetry challenge! I don't even know how well this is going to go, or if I'm even going to be able to stick with it...but I'll try!

Either way, here's Day 1: a poem about hellos (last minute).

Beginnings are so easy 

to start, 

words slip easily 

off of insincere tongues, 

a conversation tied into a 

tidy package 

so easily thrown away. 

I can never say 

that you had me at 

"Hello," 

a word so threadbare 

that it's no longer

of meaning, 

but it opened 

the path from nothing 

to everything.