#200poemsproject

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Earlier this week, I wrote my one hundredth poem for the 200 Poems Project/Poem-A-Day Challenge ONE HUNDREDTH. No matter how you slice it, that is a lot of poetry and big bundle of writing. Doing the challenge has given me a lot of creative freedom, and in some ways, it's been much lower pressure than writing can be and often is.

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This week’s featured poem for the #200poemsproject is by the lovely foxtrot-through-my-mind. Check out the entire poem at hidturner.com! 

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Check out more cool poems at hidturner.com! This week’s featured poem is a barrel of fun.

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Cavern - Poem 47 - July 3, 2015

There is no filling this cavern that exists beneath my skin, no filling the cavity within my ribs, and I can accept it. I realize I am alone in this tired world, living for love long lost and equally broken causes. 

You are equally empty, I know because I know that look, that vacant stare and absent heart. One day, someone who is full will see you, by some miracle they will love you. I know, I know that is true, because once I was full, but I did not resist a cavernous heart. www.hidturner.com 

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By Heidi Turner Instantly emaciated, the bugs already feel at home on my limbs, I sigh a quiet sigh and breathe my age in. Some graybeard said: "oh, to be young again," forgetting the wrinkled souls that grow under kindred traitorous skin. Beneath these ribs, a tired snare beats a march to a song I have forgotten. The bright blood melody leaves me listless but alive, and I recall only the quiet motion of the summer as it died. So as I lay (or is it lie?) among the acidic leaves, I raise my tired eye to a sun I have seen for twenty years, rising, passing overhead, erasing and raising reason to fear, and I let myself go blind. I whisper one thing that only worms will hear. With cracking lips and empty skin, I say: "Oh you, my betraying limbs, if only you were young again."

Check out the other poems for the 200 Poems Project on the website! 

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By Lily Calderwood

This week, I’m featuring the brilliant work of idontthinkyoureclever for the 200 Poems Project blog. Check it out! 

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The Coasters - Poem 19

The oak table beside me has circular burns, proving once you were here, not using a coaster. You were here, making tea and coffee; I did not decide then which I preferred, not thinking I'd be making them again only for myself. And no, I do not muss the yelps mid-sentence because you forgot boiling water is hot, nor do I miss your special, home-grown honey on my toast, the one from a friend's farm. We kept it to ourselves. However, I do wish I had a hand to hold still as I checked the red marks; I miss laughing at your pouty face and floppy hair. On the upside, (there is, in fact, an upside) I now have a pile of dusty, wooden coasters all to myself. 

www.hidturner.com

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Lonely - Poem 19 -

I now spend my days lonely, though you are beside me, breathing gently the pale night air, and breathing out against my hair. Oh, yes, you are there. You exist in name and body, But I tell no one, "I am his." You are hers and I cannot forget The ever-clinging warmth She put under your skin, the effervescent venom she kissed you with. No, do not ask me to explain how I can tell he is far away; I have only whispers, only silence and a half-said name. I spend my nights longing for you, but knowing I am lonely. Warm body beside me, try just once to hold me, or release me so I may go. I am lonely, and cursed life I live, I am not alone.