For NaPoWriMo Day 21, the prompt is:
“Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense, but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.”
Credit: The Chronicle .
It’s not up to you, to point out black holes,
Name the constellations, and mark each glimmering star alive or perished.
Some stars can’t be named the North Star or apart of mythical stories, there constellations too;
For Never-neverland maybe imagination, but it soared, became more than a bubblegum dream.
If you’ve not struggled, you can’t realize,
How verbs, syntax, nouns, adjectives, punctuation, character, setting, and ambience —
Connect, form a string each a crystalline sentence that aligns and meander as champagne bubbling.
Writing’s not only selling New York Times novels, nor a stilted profession of the tearful unaccomplished.
Not everyone can do it, become JK Rowling or Carrol Lewis — but many succeed in unaccomplished glory.
Wonderland’s not where we live because we write, the everyday is clear and time counts;
The ruby-red snarls of many ‘Queen of Hearts” are far too real to avoid.
Bur, not having lived it, you can’t define an accountant, a banker, an assistant, a poet alone or how words of struggling flow.
Still, wise experience nods a teacher, it creates flushed fools for judging.
Hopes and dreams aren’t for the gavel;
Wasp words, those who stomp out candle light, don’t define reality or illusion as they intertwine.
Hours, sweat, tears, mental blockage, palms ink-stained, and effort –to finish but a sentence, they’re lived;
Writers aren’t mere dreamers, simple poets or wordsmiths;
Artists decide their titles, their boundaries.
People aren’t opinions, so let judgement float into words unsaid; instead, — hasten positivity.
Life’s understood by all uniquely, both in practicality and summer days’ swarming.
It’s not formed by popular opinion, social media, a hostile or forgiving world.
It’s a story that blooms and it’s not for anyone to say what is or isn’t,
For you’re not you’re opinions, and I don’t define you, thus;
People are multifaceted, sharing life’s uneasy ride;
So, keep your conclusions, define your passion and ambitions — not mine.
Unless you’ve walked in my shoes, are the hand covering mine as I jot –the nomenclature isn’t yours.
It’s mine, and I’ve been a writer since I was young,
Yet, the world remains both contentious and compassionate for any career,
I only wish the latter won, somewhere the ethereal and everyday combined in creative culture.
©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.