Tag: poetry prompts

Red Breasted

Midnight snacks and joints that crack

The consequence of needs not flaunted.

Dreaming is hard when what you desire

Is beyond imagination.

In the meantime I keep

A dead bird in my pocket

Robin red breasted

Dressed to impress,

Imbue me with your majesty

So I can pretend at confidence

Until it’s not pretend.

Don’t be a mute canary

In the coalmine

Silent when we need your shrill chirp.

In death give me your sense for emergency

And a voice to match.

All these things and more I’ll do

Until I wake up by surprise

To find a new sunrise

Finding a world, no longer in disguise.

– Vagabond Prophet

 – Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “a dead bird in my pocket”

Silent Radio

It’s not broken muted or otherwise malfunctioned

It’s just what I need at this particular junction,

My own mind deafening

Need some quiet to drown it out.

Words float by on the wind

Lullabies soar on a stream,

And serenades with night sky.

The cool air complains about

The chill off my bones

And the radio sits silently

Nodding it’s support

And I crank up the hush.

You need silence

Before you can make music

You need ugliness before you can

Clothe it exquisite.

You need a blank page

Before you can drown it

In a sea of swirling thoughts,

And I needed to fall

Before I knew I needed you to catch me.

– Vagabond Prophet

Thanks @josy57 for the prompt “listening to a silent radio”

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.

Prompt Day 21

Hot or cold

Mild or bold

Wet or dry

Make a decision already!

You circle around the globe

Trying to ‘find’ yourself,

What you should be

When you come to fruition.

Circumlocution embodied,

You try on every outfit

And voice every thought

Over and over

For thirty whole days.

It’s like this every year,

You can’t make up your mind

To stay in the past

Or leap to the summer.

Yet May always comes

To usher April out of the room.

– Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 20

Daddy’s home yay!

They cry from the top of the stairs

Wearing dresses and suits

From dancing with each other.

“Daddy, want to watch us dance?”

They spin and spin

Just like the vinyl on the turntable.

“Daddy want to see my super jump?”

“Daddy you need to shave,

Your cheeks are all scratchy.”

These are the things I live for,

Not praise but simply speech

From sweetest voices

Wanting nothing but my attention.

So I’ll watch them orbit the living room,

I’ll keep my cheeks all smooth,

For I am their daddy, and they my children

And they love me, it’s terrifying but it’s true.

They really love me.

– Vagabond Prophet

Prompt Day 12

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