Fin: #Inktober Day 31

A frail ghost yawns 

in the dusty shade of a shadow 

as a curtain of cub webs is drawn.

Armies of light

slow match to the hallow ticks 

of ever dying time 

ferrying the gift of life

to a decaying vessel.

Life wrestles death

as the day wrestles the night

at sunrise,

birthing a swirl of gold dust 

that put a smile in the sky. 

—

Thank you so much for following the series. I put the last few prompts together to produce this piece. As I said in the beginning, all the poems were produced as first drafts, written at once with no editing. I’ll take them down soon. – Hakeem Adam. 

Squeak: #Inktober Day 26

Where did your voice go

when pain invaded my heart

and set fire to the vines

that bridge my mind.

Where did your voice go

in the storm of hurt

that washed away my memories 

of joy.

But I hear you groan

as I teach my lips to be free

and smile.
When you were the ball of dirty

trapped in my throat. 

Ship: #Inktober Day 25

The amputated arm 

of the Sailing Lady 

greets the silent beach 

with a stale handshake.

The reply is muted

but the weighted groans 

of the bodies she never returned.

They lay with her head

in vast darkness 

charting the stars

for a route back home.

Blind: #Inktober Day 24

Raindrop clear eyes 

see the world through 

a thick nest 

of cloudy mirrors 

each reflecting a tinted view

of the same vista.

Juicy: #Inktober Day 23

Chiseling a smile

from the lump of coal 

I have become

is like

squeezing life

out of a bag of bones. 

Trail: #Inktober Day 22

Trust your blind heart

to guide your tired feet

with each heavy beat 

like the drum directs hips

towards bliss
You will melt into rhythm 

when you learn 

to deflate your chest

so the pain you carry 

falls to the ground.

Furious: #Inktober Day 21

For men,

anger is a thin string 

that holds up a tired smile 

and breaks to free the flame

that warms their frozen egos.
It is not an emotion 

It is a guard 

seen too often

yet ignored 

Deep: #Inktober Day 20

A butchered self 

scampers from the light 

clings to the blind fold 

that is the dark 

and wonders the littered path 

in search of fragments of the heart 

to stich together with hope 

so it can bleed again 
A numb body 

trapped with memories 

of a time when hair stood at parade 

to announce the invasion 

of love. 

Cloud: #Inktober Day 19

Shooting Star, aiming for the sky

Shooting Star, burning bright

scorching the clouds, 

leaving a tail of grew

along the shimmering white and blue 

announcing your death 

to your fan below.

Filthy: #Inktober Day 18

New stains

drenched in hues of

regret and hurt,

loss and love,

dry in the kindling heat

of experience 

as you grow and learn

to trust the fire 

you started inside.