{"id":18360,"date":"2023-10-19T12:21:50","date_gmt":"2023-10-19T17:21:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/?p=18360"},"modified":"2023-10-19T12:21:53","modified_gmt":"2023-10-19T17:21:53","slug":"poetry-in-10-minutes","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/2023\/10\/19\/poetry-in-10-minutes\/","title":{"rendered":"Poetry in 10 minutes"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

When I was writing for my audition, I came up with something called \u201c10-minute-poetry,\u201d where I just let my fingers go and wrote in my notes app whatever came to me, see what I made with just that time, then make some titles after the fact. That\u2019s the basic gist of what happened here.<\/span><\/p>\n

tw: body horror, implied suicide<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n
Beyond Imagination<\/span><\/h5>\n<\/blockquote>\n

The earth shatters under my heels, the blood twisting out of my arteries makes it\u2019s way onto the ground and I breath. Shallow and afraid. <\/span><\/p>\n

Never have I been this afraid before, this terrified, as I stare into the open maw of a creature with jagged edges and overbite, claws carved out craters on its tongue, and a ferocious smile. By God, a ferocious smile. <\/span><\/p>\n

It licks its lips, its slimy tongue coating the outside of its fur, before it starts. Its feet will pound the pavement enough to shake the entire city and the chase to kill me ensues. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou know you\u2019re tired of running. I can always smell you.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

My vision spins and my heart bursts out of my chest and I look back at the creature as it licks up my spilled arteries and the hole it dug itself out of, and I know I’m screwed as I’ve stopped running.<\/p>\n

It looks up. It smiles.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know you\u2019re tired of running. Don\u2019t you want to die?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

I wake up. <\/span><\/p>\n

And I won\u2019t go back to sleep. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n
the color outside<\/span><\/h5>\n<\/blockquote>\n

There\u2019s snow outside my doorway.<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s white, it\u2019s a flurry, it\u2019s beautiful. <\/span><\/p>\n

I close my blinds. <\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s rain outside my window. <\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s pouring, it\u2019s monstrous, it\u2019s destroying everything within its wake. <\/span><\/p>\n

My mother leaves town without a note. <\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s sunny on my porch. <\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s breaking across the grass, it tears apart shadow and dawn, yet it burns my skin all the same. <\/span><\/p>\n

My brother parks his car. <\/span>He\u2019ll start to talk about how nice it is outside. I won’t go.
<\/span><\/p>\n

Clouds hang onto the sky. <\/span><\/p>\n

They\u2019re threatening rain, thunderstorms, hail, but the weather forecast says we won\u2019t be seeing either of this. <\/span><\/p>\n

My father walks to the sky and sips his coffee. He wishes something would happen. <\/span><\/p>\n

We both know it probably won\u2019t.
<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

\n
your headstone is not poetry.<\/span><\/h5>\n<\/blockquote>\n

I think I will die <\/span><\/p>\n

Scatter my seeds across tilled soil and expire <\/span><\/p>\n

Watch from the heavens as the crows pick apart my body, and know this is poetry. <\/span><\/p>\n

But it’s probably not. <\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s no poetry to a funeral, that\u2019s for the living
<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u2019s no poetry to weeping mothers and siblings and fathers.<\/span><\/p>\n

There’s no poetry as freshly dug graves are made in the ground and they bury<\/p>\n

someone young.<\/p>\n

Poetry is bled from tears.<\/p>\n

And the dead cannot cry.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I was writing for my audition, I came up with something called \u201c10-minute-poetry,\u201d where I just let my fingers go and wrote in my notes app whatever came to me, see what I made with just that time, then make some titles after the fact. That\u2019s the basic gist of what happened here. tw: … Continue reading “Poetry in 10 minutes”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":89,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18360"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/89"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18360"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18360\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18376,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18360\/revisions\/18376"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18360"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18360"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.msabrookhaven.org\/literary\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18360"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}