Dragon in my Closet


1.
I should write a poem
today. Now. But
I just don't feel like doing so.
Instead, I'm going to write
a story
about why. About the Dragon.
And that'll do.


2.
Once upon a time,
there was a To Do List
that needed to be Done.
It had items and points
and notes and scribbles;
she was absolutely the most
prettiest thing.

This beauty belonged to a Knight,
a pilgrim in the Land of Adulthood.
And I'm about to tell you
why, though he wanted,
and tried and tried
he never could
get the stupid List Done.

So, one day while
he was wooing Lady List,
a thunderous roar stopped him
in the middle of his speech.
He smelled the sulphur before
he saw the shadow fly over,
but it was too late
and the dragon grabbed his Lady lover.

The List yelled for help,
but what could Knight have done?
Before him stood the vicious
Merciless Procrastination Dragon!
With a slice of its claws
and just one breath of flames,
the poor List was done for
and could nevermore be Done.

Well, you can imagine
the scenario that now unfolded:
List gargling on the floor,
Knight screaming like a toddler.
The Dragon wasn't done yet, though,
he still had one more goal:
Keeping the Knight busy all day
so he won't rescue List with CPR.

This was the easy part,
and loads of fun too.
Knight had snapped out of his shock,
but the dragon just had to
keep his paw on the Knight's head
and hold it there until
the Knight got tired of fighting air
and became very still.

Then the Dragon lifted his paw.
Knight fell on the floor with a
THUD.
Dragon flew off with a smile on his face,
happy with the fun he'd had.
The Knight scrambled the strength together
to crawl on all fours to his List -
or rather, what remained of her -
and pretended she still exists.

(But she was dead,
and the Knight was broken.
He would never even look
at another List again.
Until he gets lonely and
tired of Nothing,
then another To Do List pops up
that's in need of Doing...)


3.
This tale is true,
believe me, 'tis so.
I have met the very Knight
and greeted the Lady too.
And the Malicious
Procrastination Dragon
made its nest in
my closet.

And that's why
I'm not writing a poem.

ring² (/rɪŋ/)
verb

1. (of my ears) the thing they do when filled
with another disappointing, wordy silence, especially
when I'd so hoped to hear you say... Read more

• The thing my heart does when it hears
those 3 little emotion-packed words
(never said by you).

(See also, "disappointment")

Phrases: "Did you eat?", "Are you okay?",
"I made you breakfast..."

"I love you"

When I close my book,
do the characters get trapped
in time or pages?

The Pint of a Groggy Moat


“If writers wrote as carelessly as some people talk, then adhasdh asdglaseuyt[bn[ pasdlgkhasdfasdf.”
― Lemony Snicket


There are 2 mornings of types
How I wake up:
1, the glorious morning seeps in my being and
fills me with light for the day.
2, the mornious gloring beeps in my ceiling and
tilts me with fight for delay.

This morning was the second type.

Magic Flowers

There's a bug in the house
and a big one too;
has our tummies curl up
and us running to the loo.

I wish I had flowers -
magic ones of course -
then I'd brew us a tea
that'd shoot the bug out the door.

I read so much of herbs
that can heal anything;
flu, pox, diarrhoea,
broken spine, lost limb...

But they grow in deep woods
where sunrays don't touch the floor,
and the books don't speak of maps
or if they exist (anymore).

So till the enchanted woods are found
I'll stay safe at home,
and drink rooibos tea with plenty o' honey
and write another poem.

Frailty of Life

How quickly is your warm
muscled arm carrying
everything you care for
and caressing my heart
broken.

Fear for the Unknown

  "The only thing we have to fear is
                                     fear itself."



Fish in a pail swim
Anxious circles & they can't see
The waddling bird yet.

We Are The Builders


Our most important projects
Are those we never finish:
We will always be building
friendships.

Sandwich by sandwich.

Ages of writer's block,
Unmotivated of ever being productive,
Witty lines became depressing,
Every word seems so boring as ever.

A new start was all that was needed,
A shove from the back for it to begin,
Its been a while since ive got this feeling,
More longer that i could remember.

October is the creativity month,
The hype is really living up to its name,
And so here i write for the first day,
And all i could say is; Hello there Inktober!

-HIY