Poetry competition CLOSED 19th June 2024 10:20pm
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Tell me about your morning

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

Poetry or prose about a morning you've had. Good or bad.
Tell me about your morning. Good, bad, boring, busy, crazy... whatever it is, I want to know.

Thanks to Ahavati for prompting me to make this comp, based on my poem 7:43am


~7:43am~

4:49am  
I woke up too early  
couldn't get back to sleep  
cause I lost my PJ pants  
during the night  
and couldn't be bothered  
to get up and try and find them  
lost between the bed sheets and the floor  
 
5:56am  
Get body slammed  
by my four year old  
with the cries of  
"Mummy wake up"  
before he gets tangled  
on his way out of  
his own PJs  
and pisses on the carpet  
cause it was easier  
for him to piss in an  
over-full nappy  
than make it to the toilet  
 
6:02am  
Why does the kettle  
always take so long to fucking boil  
it's cold and all my socks  
are in the dryer on the other side  
of the house  
so it's hot coffee and cold toes  
before I drag my blankets  
to the couch  
 
7:24am  
Kiddo dropped the new heater  
and now it tings and smells  
like burning metal  
and I'm screaming about  
new things and money  
and how I can't have  
fucking anything nice  
while he looks at me  
going "no screaming"  
cause all he wanted to do  
was fiddle with the heater knobs  
and all I want is to not be cold  
and for anything to last  
more than a week  
before succumbing to  
curious hands that can't understand  
that we're supposed to look  
with eyes not hands  
 
7:29am  
I have completely lost the calm  
I didn't have to begin with  
and I'm hunting down my meds  
that I've somehow misplaced  
and can't find in the chaos  
of the kitchen  
 
And I wonder if this is what  
my mother feels like  
when she wakes up  
and breaks the dishes  
 
But that's not relevant  
cause if I don't find these meds  
I'm gonna punch a wall  
a window  
my fucking self  
I don't even know  
as I tear apart the pantry  
edging a rage filled panic attack  
that's gonna have me  
crying on the floor  
in 3...2...  
found them  
 
7:43  
Dose myself  
and pray I don't break something  
before this medication kicks in  
 
Is it too late  
to turn this day around?
 

1000 words max, please. No novellas.

1 entry per person.
2 weeks.
No erotica.

Have fun

poet Anonymous

Bad Rooster

Cock-A-Doodle-Doo  
Yes I still remember you  
Every morning before the sun  
I hope you're ready to run  
 
Because your head is mine  
No more annoying sunrise  
I don't want to know the time  
Please stop this hate crime  
 
Deep inside you know you're wrong  
Silence is where you don't belong  
No more Cock-A-Doodle-Dooing song  
Why not chill and smoke a bong?  
 
Cock-A-Doodle-Doo  
Yes I still remember you  
Every morning before the sun  
I hope you're ready to run  
 
 
poet Anonymous

Related submission no longer exists.
poet Anonymous

Morning Rain

Morning rain on the darkened pane
sliding off my memories
of those lonely yesteryears
my remembrance
as rain washing off dirt
encrusted on perceived love
twisted in trust and faith

there would be other rainy mornings
when tears mingled with the showers
to land and invigorate the grass
to melt hardened resolves  
as frost on a summer day
breathing on not wanting to know
to feel to see to speak

enforced tranquility of aloneness
unfeeling
living was merely breathing
then Words like little raindrops
fell one by one on a dead soul
the lifeless seed quivered
growth of hope on blackened
bulb, stubs of faith appeared

“It is raining this morning, My Angel!”
“That’s good, My Love, Rain cools…”
poet Anonymous

Before The Dawn

Awake at 4 am  
every day whether I need to be  
or not.  
 
My 5 cats roll off the bed  
and trot downstairs  
to await their breakfast.  
 
Must pee first  
then feed them  
scoop the crap and piss balls  
from their litter boxes.  
 
Pack lunch for the day  
have my own breakfast  
wash the dishes  
then shower with 2 of the cats  
in there with me...  
 
(not kidding.... they love water)  
 
On the road by 6 am  
45 minute drive  
arrive at work, 6:45
and bring the laboratory to life  
 
Run system checks  
and quality control  
on all the machines  
in time for the hoarde of patient blood samples  
to start zipping in  
through the pneumatic tube  
8 am, on the dot.  
 
And so it goes  
for the rest of a 10 hour shift.  
 
 
poet Anonymous

A cold brewing.

Summer past
Months were
Listening to
Melody of
Presley.
Dog barks
At wind cold
Brings chills.
Summers in
Morning poems
In bedroom
Cold in pages.
Whites and red
in sheet
Brings caps
To  call
For the first
Day of duty.
poet Anonymous

Mornings

I wonder what its like  
To wake up looking forward to what a new day brings  
To feel refreshed and ready to take on the world  
Seeing the sun shining around the edges of the blackout curtains as a beacon of hope  
Instead of a stark reminder of having to push through another day  
 
Another day  
 
Of surviving rather than living  
Of an unrelenting desire to stop being  
 
Fighting not to give in to what is wanted the most  
Every fucking second  
The battle never stops  
A war raging inside  
While navigating through the monotony and playing a role  
Hiding what lies right beneath the surface  
 
No one knows  
 
How Im barely holding on  
How thin that line is between the person standing before them flashing a pained smile  
And the one that is being lowered into the ground, no longer fighting for a cause that he doesn't believe in
poet Anonymous

Monday Morning

I woke up before dawn in a confused state of mind
And I stayed awake until daylight
It was a Monday morning and I had nothing to do
I couldn't cope with the trials of life anymore
Contentious people kept looking for trouble
I wanted to find happiness and serenity even for a day
So I left home in a hurry for a long walk
 
It was the first time I forgot to wear a mask
I bought one from a female vendor on the roadside
My shadow was right under my feet
I wasn't sure where I was going,
But I had to go somewhere to meditate
I was walking aimlessly in the hot sun
Lots of vehicles drove past me along the way
 
I walked a few miles until I ended up at the park
There were many settings from which to choose
I sat on a hard bench near the walkway
A strong cool wind was blowing from the east
The limbs of the trees were shaking
I relaxed in the shade of the Bauhinia x Blakeana
 
A number of people were in the park
Some were sitting by themselves
Others were sitting in twos and in groups
Children were playing everywhere
And there was a peaceful atmosphere
The lawn was covered with beautiful crabgrass
Oil palms were waving in the wind
 
I felt like writing something while I was there
And I wrote this poem about my experience
I spent exactly four hours in the park
The time slipped away faster than I expected
I didn't intend to leave the location so soon,
But I left when I received a phone call from someone
poet Anonymous

With Eyes to See

Beyond the orange lid of my eyes  
lies a summer sunrise    
sticky as an egg yoke  
ready to burst    
   
The mountain’s silhouette    
becomes outlined in neon red    
   
Across this distant room  
my cat purrs    
   
In her dreams    
she is once again Egyptian    
a goddess worshiped    
by thin fingers of light  
 through the window  
 stroking her calico fur  
   
Outside, a cacophony of birds  
break the stillness    
  I know each voice by heart  
   
Squirrels scold one another    
  while spiraling around    
  the old pin oak  
and the neighbor’s fan belt  
squeals as it’s forced to move  
  through the neighborhood    
   
Much like my body    
creaking as a stairwell    
  that may fall through    
  any given moment    
   
This is the fingerprint  
of daily aging    
the physicality of wearing out  
and losing value  
   
After years of waking  
imagery becomes embossed    
as braille across the heart    
   
The daily story of us    
is a shroud of experience    
filled with light and debris    
   
Without any further need    
to open our eyes to see  
poet Anonymous

Early Morning Piss

She woke up in the middle of the night
maybe 4:35 am
she needed to pee
he then got the urge to pee
he waited near the closed bathroom door until she was finished
when she opened the door, he punched her straight into her face
she fell backwards into the shower glass doors
her body fell into the tub
she was cut severely on her leg and torso
blood was all over the shattered glass, tub and bathroom floor
a crime scene has officially happened within seconds
maybe she'll bleed to death, maybe she won't
didn't matter
he knew what he was going to do next
he went to pee and decided to go back to bed
poet Anonymous

Thoughts on a Saturday Morning

I sit on the porch at 5 am
brewed too-strong caramel pecan coffee

too much cream and sugar
like I prefer it

it's quiet but cars on their way to work
are already disrupting this

I am
a bizarre surge of energy
the caffeine exacerbates

I want to write a poem

shower and put on a long floral dress
do my makeup with utter precision
and feel utterly beautiful

though I am anything but

walk swiftly to the edge of the property
where the sprawling oak meets the country road

wave excitedly at passersby
while the wind whips at my flowing flowery dress

hop in the car and go save animals
and children

something, anything to run away from

this emptiness

that reminds me of who I really am
the anomaly that is me
different from others

though I always wished it were not so

and not deserving of love
or happiness

but something within me stills
even my hands retract

because once a brilliant poet I know
said to let a poem stew for a day or two
even a week

not to manifest oneself too early
though I have never been successful at this

and he publishes prolifically
while at best I am
an accidental poet

so I'll go back to bed
begin again in a few hours

but this time paint myself
slowly and methodically
not splatter myself
upon the world

I only hope
I don't stop breathing in my sleep
and miss out on the chance to do

something truly
and furiously beautiful

with this strange, sad canvas
of a life I was given
poet Anonymous

Smiling at the waves

Yet again, we meet the day and night
Time runs through me
as everything stops
Nature stops
Wilderness stops
to await the dawn
Here
Now

I open the tent and you’re smiling inside
You ask me if I wanna go swim
I’ve never wanted anything else, I say
poet Anonymous

Your Lips

In damp sleep
of our warm bed,
I awoke upon
two sweet tasting
morning pillows.
poet Anonymous

My Morning

Get up in the morning before the sunrise
 before the alarm goes off
before my eyes even open
I sit there my legs dangling off the bed
Waiting for everything to catch up to my awakened mind.

 Once I can open my eyes
I go get my clothes, put them on
 I go brush my teeth and from there comb my hair.
Put a little liner in my eyes and say in the mirror.
“Another day we got this”

 I go out there and as I go down the elevator
Do a little prayer that I make it home that day.
 Because the city has gone back to wild, wild west, and I am just armed with a spray.
Go to work to help those who need the help and those who don't.

 I get angry eyes
 I get sad eyes
I get wails and tears
 I get hugs and there are times I have to give a hug.
 Even though I just don't have my light to give that day.

 At the end of the day.
 I look at everybody with a smile and wish them safe travels.
 I trudge my way right back through the wild, wild west.

I hope with all the crowds and the noise
someone doesn't decide that I'm just a perfect target.
To either snatch, cut, or shoot because the city is not always safe, but it is my home.

I walk from the train to my home
 go back on the elevator.
Hope, I don't get stuck to be rescued by the fire department yet again
 
Go through the door lock it
  That's my day
poet Anonymous

Mornings Episode

My life greets the dawn, weary from the night,
For my eyes shut tight as darkness embraced the light.
With a sense of defeat, I face the coming day,
And the endless doubt returns, never far away.
For if I spoke the words of parting in sorrow’s shade,
You closed the door, my love, and with my soul, you strayed.

Why won't you restore my strength?
Why don't you come to reclaim your love?
For every chapter you grant me, I gasp through the scars,
With every departure, you stretch the distance, time, and my heart's jagged edges.
Why don't we begin anew, despite this fragile start?

I've attempted all, even loving in foreign arms, my delicate one,
But my voice chokes, unable to speak their name without your shadow.
Even my cherished solitude, once a comfort when you were gone,
Now shouts at me in the mirror, blaming me for your departure.
For if I uttered the bitter farewell in the night's embrace,
You sealed the door, my love, and with it, took my soul's grace.

Why won't you restore my strength?
Why don't you come to reclaim your love?
For every chapter you grant me, I gasp through the scars,
With every departure, you stretch the distance, time, and my heart's jagged edges.
Why don't we begin anew, despite this fragile start?

Why won't you restore my strength?
Why don't you come to reclaim your love?
Why won't you deceive my heart, extinguish the pain, and return my soul?

Why won't you restore my strength?
Why don't you come to reclaim your love?
For every chapter you grant me, I gasp through the scars,
With every departure, you stretch the distance, time, and my heart's jagged edges.
Why don't we begin anew, despite this fragile start?
Why don't we complete the tale of our fragile bond?
Why don't we start by ending this delicate madness?

R.Sena





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