Tag: creative writing

Volcanic Dust


If Vesuvius would bath me

Leave an ashy mold of life.

When they come years later

And uncover me

With slow blows of chisel

What will they find?

Liquid rock ruthlessly drinking up

Everything I know and leaving a perfect casing,

A gift wrapped for a recipient

Not yet known.

Would it even be exciting?

This man was inspiring,

This man loved loudly

And cared deeply.

This man stood up
When others lay down,

Resisting the current and by that

Being the only one

To truly know it’s strength.

Or

This man was lazy

This man hit snooze too many times

Life forgot him long before this.

This man spun in circles

Never picking a direction.

Here’s hoping it doesn’t take

A volcano for me to leave a legacy.

– Vagabond Prophet

Wrought Iron

Watching her preen herself with envy green

Attempts to sharpen herself

on the surface of you

Only left her more dull.

Shavings scattered on the ground in a rainbow arc.

By this method you’ve been tempered,

From fire to water and back again.

This is what the bellows wrought

A blade both cunning and beautiful.

Wrought iron sought no siren

To draw attention to herself,

Unlike the one who gouged bits out

To begin this brutal work,

The catalyst of forges holy.

I’m no dummy I know

What swords are made for

I’ve only nicked my knuckles

And I can’t imagine the blows you’ve known

To become this instrument honed.

But you don’t use your edge

For causing harm, pain, or alarm

Rather to protect the loved ones you collect

A guardian, a safe place, a strong defender.

– Vagabond Prophet

Neutral Ground

No Switzerland or Sweden

When our conflicts erupt

No neutral ground

To ignore the bombs

Just your love creeping

Through my veins

Threatening to invade my heart.

You’re relentless, a war monger

I’ll appease your wrath

Take what you want

When you’ve claimed all of me

Know that for this man

You’ve conquered the world.

– Vagabond Prophet

Disarmed

You were armed to the teeth

With something underneath

Disarmed by my smile

That goofy grin not yet yellow,

You ran away for miles

Losing your shoes in the mire.

Years later it was your turn

I was disarmed by your beauty,

But I ran to you not away

For yours is a beauty that beckoned me

Closer and closer still

Until nothing between us but time,

Time to let our love perfect,

Sweetening and intoxicating as

Years go by.

– Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 30

Islands built in lake beds

One thing her hometown

And my hometown have in common.

Lake water seeped into soil

Transforming into corn,

Mangos, tomatoes, jalapenos.

Everything worth eating.

Surrounded by volcanoes

Reminding me beauty and joy

Always come with risk.

I miss the people with skin of brown

And it taking all day to drive through town.

Pyramids reaching to the sun

And journeying it with son on back.

I expected new flavours and smells

I expected new sights and sounds

But I could never expect

A tattoo on my spirit.

Flourish and dance entrance

This stoic gringo in plaid

Leaving me speechless,

My words already meaningless.

Family I’d never met embrace me

With more tenacity than those back home,

I met every shade of every colour

On the concrete walls of houses,

I met every type of kindness

On the inside of open hearts.

My stomach always full

From the generosity of others,

Need to wake there soon

To smell a thousand smells

Whispering I’m welcome.

Home in a brand new way,

Cajeta resonating in a maple syrup man,

Pine needles replaced with cactus spines.

My money went far, my heart went further

Hasn’t quite come back

I’m going to have to chase it.

– Vagabond Prophet

      – I’m in love with Mexico in case you didn’t catch on, and as such I don’t believe I’ve done it any kind of justice. Anyways that’s the end of my prompts for National Poetry Writing Month. Drop me a line!

Our DNA braided together
To make a brand new person,
Now laying in our bed
Perpendicular to logic itself.

I’ll be woken by a sleepy kick
In the jaw or the nose,
But to lose her and gain sleep
Would be the stuff of nightmares.

Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 29

Baa baa black sheep have you any wool?

Any trough not yet full

Any fervor to pull

In a direction of my choosing?

Away from the herd

You can fly like a bird

You’ll be more at home

If you leave your present loam.

Baa baa black sheep you may be a bear

Taken for a sheep, didn’t even care.

If your teeth are sharp be what you are

Do you work, I’ll do mine, play this harp from afar.

– Vagabond Prophet

      – Today’s prompt: Renovate a Nursery Rhyme.

Seeing Red


We can argue whether

Blood is red or blue

Instead of addressing

The hole it’s spilling out of.

Or we could staunch the flow

By whatever we can find,

Cloth left bleaching in the sun

Just waiting for opportunity

To be dyed by tragedy.

I understand you’re both

Feeling blue and seeing red

But we can mend this over time

So don’t let it all unwind.

– Vagabond Prophet