The warp and weft
of earth meets sky.
My skin glows
orange against it.
Such harmony
in opposition, an outcry.
Why do I remember you
when time loses meaning?
Fire and water cannot mix.
How quickly they stun each other.
I’ll blend into bustle of scene as you pass.
This cycle spirals onward.
Some physiologies
only thrive apart.
The comet is beautiful
as it dies.
© N Nazir 2022
Written for Sammi Scribbles weekend Writing Prompt: Outcry, 65 words.
I kiss…
your throat –
in communion
we lie,
sprawled
and
echoing
*Text source from Blue Ticket by Sophie MacIntosh, p.168
*Shared for dVerse Open Link Night, hosted by Grace.
I saw a crow do something disgusting the other day. Perhaps it’s natural and I just didn’t know that it’s perfectly normal behaviour for a crow. I was walking toward the main square when I saw the familiar blue-blackness up ahead. Raven or crow? I wondered. There are differences. It always surprises me how big they are close up. Substantial. Their stance, sort of proud as they strut.
I noticed it foraging at the foot of a tree then lift up its head. Something was moving in its mouth. That’s a mighty big worm, I thought. What had it captured? Surely, it’s not…? It can’t be. It was. A tiny bird. Squirming. Held fast. Far from escape. A little wagtail. I could see it. The tail. Wagging in the crow’s beak. I felt terrible. I love those little birds. Oh, how it wriggled. But the crow was an expert at bird-napping. You could tell. Though wagtail was certainly not napping. It was lunch and it knew it. I, hungry, moments ago ruminating over all the ways I could murder a cinnamon bun, instantly lost my appetite.
Crow gave me side-eye, then hopped-skipped-flew onto the perch of a nearby café, before pecking at its fresh catch. Turns out crows are cannibals. Perhaps all birds are and I know nothing. Predators are fascinating. I skipped lunch that day.
Now I understand
why they call it a murder.
Rest in peace, wagtail.
© N Nazir 2022
*this is absolutely true. It’s taken me a while to get the image out of my head so God knows why I’ve gone and shared it with you all. It’s all I could think of to write for this prompt.
Written for dVerse Poetry Prompt night hosted by Ingrid, who challenges us to write a corvid poem, that is, a poem related to a bird from the corvidae family. These include ravens, rooks, jackdaws, jays, choughs, magpies and crows.
*Here’s an erasure poem I did last year that also fits the prompt. Apologies for the poor quality photo. Text taken from The First Man by Albert Camus.
Ravens brood
and obsess
over dark things
filing away
the tragedies
of the past.
*In other news, thank you to Whispers and Echoes for publishing my poem There is Comfort Here. This is the last of the three I mentioned before and was originally written for NaPoWriMo last month. If you wish, you can read it here.
I thought it was you. How are you, Nightwalker?
I am well, Daywalker. How goes it in the sunshine realm?
There is chaos and secret order. Disarray and shambles. I tread amongst it. I am one with it.
Nightwalker nodded. Us felines don’t hold onto things. It is the only way to live amongst the falling, the fallen, the not yet fallen.
That makes me sad, Dark Side. Why can’t it be the other, the rising, the risen, the not yet risen?
Because time is against us. The two-legged ones make many errors. They walk a perilous tightrope.
Maybe that’s how it is meant. There is no spark without friction. Birth is a collision of cells before the cry of wakefulness. Truth comes not gently.
You’re right, of course, said Nightwalker. I can but prepare for the worst. Then it’s a pleasant surprise when everything turns out well.
That is a fine way to look at it. Yet I can but hope for the best, and never give up hope. Even if hell is on the horizon. What else do I have?
Nightwalker’s eyes flashed. Care for a midnight stroll? The moon is out tonight and wishes to greet you.
So long as you’re with me, Night-time.
I am your shadow self. How can I ever desert you?
A tiny glittering orb emerged from Daytime’s heart and danced awhile between them before encircling Nighttime in a soft haze. Then she stepped out and joined him, a beacon in the dark.
© N Nazir 2022
Written for the Sunday Muse #211 responding to the above image. I originally wrote it in response to the image below but realised I got the cats mixed up (because sometimes I am shockingly unobservant). But what does it matter 🙂
said the woman, only you know the
meaning of unseemly power.
You writhe with…
…you can read the rest of the poem here.
© N Nazir 2022
*I’m very happy to share the second of three poems published by Whispers and Echoes. Thank you to Sammi Scribbles for accepting my work. If you like writing short poems of 10 lines or less, you might want to check out this great journal.
*I do write about other things too, just so you know. Other food stuffs, people, places, nonsense.
Sunra Rainz 