I don’t see many people these days,
There lights blind my eyes
I run and I hide.
My name is Aurora
Come north come at dark
And I’ll dance for you
Through the night.
My flowy dress twirls outwards
And my hair changes colours
You’ve never seen before.
My fingers writing stories in the sky
In a language long forgotten.
I see my face reflected
In the great lakes,
I really am radiant
And wanting to share my beauty.
I want somebody to talk to,
Somebody to sing to,
Somebody to quarrel with.
Come further north, further still
Bring no light of your own
For I’ll light our lives enough,
And you’ll only diminish me.
– Vagabond Prophet
Tag: napowrimo
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!
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.
Prompt Day 28
Christmas time comes soon
And they’ll be home for christmas,
Those that can navigate their way
Across the Atlantic to my front door.
Old Fashioned everybody?
They all smile and nod
All of us wearing same toque
Without even meaning to.
Bulleit Bourbon everytime,
The extra 5% for anybody
Who can’t make it this year.
More than one bottle
To last us past three days,
Mixing it extra strong
To loosen words.
Got to get those gears spinning
Make up for lost time,
Catch up just in time
To say goodbye once more.
– Vagabond Prophet
Prompt Day 27
Most nights dreamless
Sleep found seamless
A border into restfulness
With no crossing guard.
My dreams get out during day
And at night I won’t dismay
For I’ve got magic in my brain
And lyrics in my vain.
I won’t wait for dreams at night
I won’t chew my nails and bite
It’s like waiting for high tide
While sitting at the lake side.
The body content in its fullness
In its being fed by outside sources,
And in the stillness of the night.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Today’s prompt:
Write about the dreams that keep you up at night.
Would love to see other peoples work on this prompt.
Prompt Day 26
The irony of pleasant weather
When we learned we’re not to be together.
The currents of discontent
Loosening you from the riverbed.
Nearly thirty long years of marriage,
Erosion is a persistent thing.
I think you taught me that
Driving past canyons
Above river beds long gone dry
Water having spent itself
On carving things uncarvable.
The worst storm for me was this
Most strange in its calmness.
No screaming match
No begging at the door.
Excepting of course for
The screaming match days later
Where I spoke my greatest lie.
The cold front met the warm front
Swirling around dancing beautiful
Save for its destruction
Ash clouds floating down
To smother what was left.
I said very little.
What is there to say
To the one who taught you speech
When he leaves.
Plates shifting earth quaking
I was shaken awake
By a thirst unslaked.
I’m not thirsty anymore,
And we still touch
Though from opposite sides
Of the canyon.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Today’s prompt:
Write about the worst storm you’ve ever experienced.
So this might be cheating but it’s what came to mind.
Prompt Day 25
Conduit between body and head
Corridor for traveling thoughts
And speeding instructions.
It bends unnaturally as time
Slowly puts down its full weight
And as thoughts get clogged in mind
With nowhere to go.
For a job that only values my sweat
My rhyming spheres of soul
Gone unnoticed.
Every borrowed lungful
Of air I waste on breathing
Rather than singing.
Neck is sore today,
No wonder! You’d be sore too
If you’d been cajoled
Into molds unsavoury.
Excepting for this one thing
That my neck slowly straightens
As I learn to let go.
A jubilant surrender
Of weights that break my neck,
Simple recognition that I put
Them on myself
And that you’d lift them off
If I’d just let you.
– Vagabond Prophet
Prompt Day 24
I tied a hangman’s noose
Within the womb
Around my neck was slung
And from those gallows swung.
I was six days late
The pressure wouldn’t abate
I’ve always been
Afraid of change.
I came out looking blue
Foreshadowing how I’d feel
Writing this at all.
I was timid, I was quiet,
Sleeping days away.
Always compliant
Never outspoken.
Obedient, a good kid
They’d say.
Now looking back as a man
With fissures throughout my heart
I think it’s not that simple.
Never outspoken sure,
For every strongly expressed opinion
Was shouted, and frightened
This gentle child into quietness.
So I grew with roots reluctant
To claim soil another may one day want,
Older brothers younger sister
More abrasive than I.
I like tile they like sandpaper,
Every attempt to rough me up
Only made me smoother.
One day I was called to manhood
By nothing but necessity.
At an age that couldn’t be expected
To swing a hammer well.
Hell I couldn’t even swing a decision yet
How could I possibly step into shoes
Strangely unworn before
And with strength strike
The nail on the head.
I filled those shoes in time
Sometimes feeling room still
By my big toe.
I swung a decision,
I’d be the man I wanted to be
To be different than the example.
A timid trailblazer still covers ground,
A kite broken free may crash,
Or fly higher than ever imagined.
The world needs good men
I’ll fill that need or die trying,
She needed me to be more,
My soul began
To grow chest hair.
So that’s where I’m from
There’s my past laid out.
My future?
Well that’s up to me isn’t it.
– Vagabond Prophet
Prompt Day 23
Oh! Look over yonder
Ye brilliant must ponder
As earthen staff impaled
Into oceans deepest trench.
Between Sun and Moon
Where quilt of stars are strewn,
She of light and he of darkness
Made their battle.
She of goodness, green, and soil
He of shadows, pride sure to spoil,
Her majesty wielded supernovas
His insidiousness armed with blackest hole.
Blessed Queen of sky and birth
With shield of light and rod of earth
Might of the heavens
Their blows making water quake.
Rod met sword and musically rang
Swirling waters to themselves clang
When staff broke in two
And plunged into ocean depth.
Causing terrific quake
Causing world to break,
The known globe scabbing over
Solid ground for creatures yet to be.
They yet meet blades
Sparks becoming glades
Every piece of celestial debris
Adding to our home.
– Vagabond Prophet
– Today I was tasked with writing a creation myth, enjoy.
Prompt Day 22
I lilt and sway
Just like Gord’s voice
When he sang Fiddlers Green,
Soundtrack for my life.
Sinclair drops the bass,
Fay crashes cymbals,
Paul and Robby plucking strings,
Like wizards to make waves
For the words to dance all over,
Like the wind in a storm,
A real nautical disaster.
Yer not the Ocean but the surface is green
And the dark interweaves
In a lonely iridescence,
It’s terribly deep and the cold is complete.
Just like the ocean.
Loving your country, playing songs of small town news,
I can teach my children about the nation
With rock and roll.
Canada divided into thirteen parts,
A discography of thirteen albums,
No coincidence.
The most honourable thing yet,
That you evolved to challenge a nation
Unknowingly flawed, abusive.
Adoring your home, but not calling it perfect
True patriotism, true love always seeks to improve.
That’s just what you did
You are ahead by a century.
Now Downie gone,
But his voice will ring out forever,
As he walks among the stars.
I still lilt and sway
Just like Gord’s voice
When he sang anything,
Soundtrack for my life.
– Vagabond Prophet
– for ‘ The Tragically Hip’, quotes throughout this poem from their songs: Nautical Disaster, Yer not the Ocean, Fiddlers Green, Ahead by a Century, The Drop Off.
– If you don’t know this band you should, He rhymes Catharsis with ‘My arse is’. If that’s not a clever lyricist I don’t know what is.
Vagabond Prophet 