NAPOWRIMOCONTEST,14414, a common denominator ; a gravitational pattern

PROMPT OF THE DAY – today’s prompt is a little something I’m calling “Twenty Questions”.the idea is to write a poem in which every sentence,except for the last one,is in the form of a question.that’s it.it can be as long or short as you like.the questions can be deep and philosophical (‘what is the meaning of life?’) or routine and practical (‘are you going to eat that?’).or both.happy writing.

 

 

 

 

a common denominator ; a gravitational pattern

 

 

and then ..was she ?

but oh dear me   – weren’t they ? 

those addicts ..?

those addicts who used to like ..?

to like to steal ?

to steal to sell ?

to sell to buy ?

to buy to feed ?

to feed. ..their habits.

 

 

 

a.aime

NAPOWRIMO CONTEST // 9th APRIL 2013 // THE SWEETEST DEATH

And now our (totally optional) prompt. I’m a sucker for a good mystery novel, especially the hard-boiled noir novels of the thirties and forties. There’s always a two-timing blonde, a city that keeps its secrets, and stuck in the middle, a man who just can’t help but rabbit after truth. Today I challenge you write a poem inspired by noir — it could be in the voice of a detective, or unravel a mystery, or just describe the long shadows of the skyscrapers in the ever-swirling smog. After all, “you know how to write a poem, don’t you, Steve? You just pick up a pen and you write.”

WEDNESDAY, 9th APRIL 2013

I do, I clearly do remember what happened that day.

It was Monday, 8th, April 2012.

I woke up

I washed and shaved my face

I had breakfast

I went to work

I did the same shit i did everyday.

When I came back home I found a letter from abroad, impossible to see exactly where it came from.

Inside, I found a picture of a stabbed unicorn, turning on a carousel, crying blood.

And a message. written in the left corner, in capital letters: ” LOVE IS THE SWEETEST DEATH. ”

I threw it away. I thought it was probably a joke made by some kids.

 

 

It has been one year now since I received that letter.

And I am now writing my own one.

A suicide love note.

 

 

367 days ago my life had no sense because there was no love.

I found it eventually, I trusted it, I believed in it.

Then, suddenly it was taken away from me.

Love was able to see my soul, to find it, and then steal it.

And now, I feel like an empty book,

laying on a shelf among other useless old books,

completely aware that nobody will ever look at me again, or search my name.

 

 

And so World excuse me, while I live you behind.

 

 

All I can say is that if could come back,

I WOULD STILL CHOOSE THE SWEETEST DEATH.

 

 

with love, by a man who could love.

 

 

a.aime