8. Singularities

There’s a lot that i don’t know.

I don’t know where I am.

I don’t know how i got here.

I don’t know what happened.

I don’t even know who I am.

Yesterday, I was playing with all the little flying people,

fairies, I think they were called,

flitting from flower to flower, me chasing them, until they had to get back to work.

I played around with all the fishies,

racing and losing but then they had to get back to work.

I sat and listened to Oak, but then I drifted off to sleep in his arms, and when I woke,

he went back to work.

I didn’t have any work, so I looked for one.

And now my best friend is under trial,

everyone hates me,

the mother ant looks at me with a look that says, “Sorry, honey, don’t ask me for details,”

all the while I’ve changed.

One millimeter at a time

and I don’t even know how I got here.

Should I set it back right?

Or is there an “or”?

I’d written a Children’s fiction story a year ago and I’d won second place! This poem is a run down version of that story.

I’m attempting these prompts with Parvathi over at Queen Talks and these prompts, “The Lonely Astronaut” were set by Amanda Torroni and Tyler Kent White. I’m combining prompts from these and the Official NaPoWriMo.


#30: Misery Riot

The last one!

I’m gonna miss writing this kind of poetry!

Every night, as you come home,

I try for a genuine smile

from the heart.

But, it knows,

and you know,

that my heart belonged


before you came,

and brought me

the sun with you.

#29: Legacies of Ruin

Your mouth hangs open

at the huge box of gifts.

I angle the camera on the tripod

towards you.

I want to be able to cherish forever.

Any lover would be

content with just that look

on your face.

But not me.

I have more in store

and I can’t wait

to let you experience it.

Read More

#28: Ghost stories at Breakfast

Little more sentiment.

You seem to appear at odd times of the day, 

When I’m in the shower,

I feel you peeking at me through the gap in the curtains.

When I’m in the kitchen,

your eyes follow me around. 

When I’m on my way to work,

you travel beside me.

When I’m sipping green tea

in front of TV, after a long day.

When I’m tucked in bed, 

you hover at the door, gingerly. 

We don’t do anything. 

You don’t speak. 

I don’t speak. 

We just share glances,

knowing smirks,

with mischievous glints in our eyes, 

and you laugh out loud,

having the freedom

that no one else can see or

hear you. 

Or your motherly fun.

#27: Look for me in the stillness

I stare at the wall;

I’ve been staring at it for God knows how long.

For hours, months, years,

I can’t say because,

each time I look ta it,

you look different.

In every picture,

in every doodle that you and I

did together,

in every painting that you did,

in every charcoal sketch that I did.

Every tear that falls on the ground,

memories of you and me

are etched deeper into my soul.

#26: I can hear you ticking

I stare at you,

you stare at me,

from across the room,

with the sofa,

TV, coffee table, cat and dog

between us. 

I can see smoke coming out of your ears

as you can see my face red. 

I begin counting,


as my counsellor told me to,

and you walk away 

from me


#25: Fresh Dirt from an Old Grave

As I dig the soil,

making way for new seeds,

A deja vu moment

took me back,

fifty years ago.

My wrinkled gnarled hands were

replaced with smooth skinned,

strong ones,

beside yours.

And i smile, as that moment

seemed to stretch infinitely,

as I joined you,

beside you,

in the ground.