Eating Words (NaPoWriMo)

Eating Words
By Donna M. Monnig

We eat food,
not words,
except for when we do.
Beware of your word-salad.
When tossed and
coated with vinegar,
they can be bitter and hard
to swallow.

© 2017 Donna M. Monnig

Prompt from Day 19, still trying to get my poems from the last few days posted.

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The Creation of Time (NaPoWriMo)

The Creation of Time
By Donna M. Monnig

Time was created by the evil gods of man.
Once upon existence, the universe,
in perfect harmony,
had no need to age itself.
Man came along,
turned day into night,
measured the sun’s rotation,
and called it time.
Satisfaction is a futile beast.
Control; a consuming monster.
Time became hours,
hours turned to minutes.
Minutes broken into pieces,
60 shattered shards
cutting and biting us
from our inception
until our time is up.
Horology, a despicable necessity.
For, no matter how long, time is always
too short.

© 2017 Donna M. Monnig

This is from Day 18’s prompt to write a creation myth poem. I wrote the last few days, but am late getting them posted! Ah, grad school … 😦

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Nocturnal Eyes (NaPoWriMo)

Nocturnal Eyes
By Donna M. Monnig

Crickets chirp,
you hear them.
Crickets chirp,
I see them.
The dew covers
the leaves,
You gather
your covers.
The stars burst
into flame,
Your eyes blink
out the light.
The world on pause
while you sleep,
Except the moon rises,
the night awakens.
A strange new
world unfolds,
Aliens do come
out at night.
So it would seem,
to your eyes.
But I see the dew,
sparkle under the stars.
I see the crickets
making their music.
You will never
know what I see,
The world I witness
behind nocturnal eyes.

© 2017 Donna M. Monnig

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Dear Murphy (NaPoWriMo)

Dear Murphy
By Donna M. Monnig

I don’t know who,
in my ancestry,
Ticked you off,
but it wasn’t me.
I have a right,
to pick this bone,
So be a dear and
leave me alone,
I’m tired of things
going wrong,
So, revise your
law and so long!
Sincerely yours,
a poet who,
is tired of putting
up with you.

© 2017 Donna M. Monnig

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Halfway There (NaPoWriMo)

Halfway There DMM.png

Halfway There
By Donna M. Monnig

To complete or not complete,
that is the question I repeat,
As I stare, halfway there,
Nearly done but not yet won,
Trying to finish my degree,
Before Grad School finishes me!

Except when my M.A. is mine,
There will be no time for wine,
Rather instead, if I’m not dead,
I won’t be through, there’s Act II,
As I further strain my insanity,
By trying to complete my Ph.D.

The glass is half full, not half down,
But it’s just enough, I could still drown,
What don’t kill makes us stronger still,
So they say, it gets me through the day,
So even on days when I don’t care,
I can’t give up, I’m halfway there!

© 2017 Donna M. Monnig

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Clerihew for Geoffrey (NaPoWriMo)

Clerihew for Geoffrey DMM.png

Clerihew for Geoffrey
By Donna M. Monnig

Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth,
Wrote a history and things went south,
He wrote about a king, at first no big deal,
Until people believed King Arthur was real.

© 2017 Donna M. Monnig

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The Void (NaPoWriMo)

The Void
By Donna M. Monnig

The universe slowly disintegrates into an unknown void,
Space, made of dark energy, none know what lies in the void.

The universe is infinite: A notion long employed,
No hypothesis is free, from one day being void.

The cosmos cares not, when or if humans are annoyed,
Homo sapiens are lost in their self-contained void.

Each birthday and occasion, celebrations so enjoyed,
No one notices as entropy slowly fills the void.

© 2017 Donna M. Monnig

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