#escapril day 5

[trickstersaint]

frameworks // april 5 2024

[versesandvice]

Nocturnal Animal

Your love is a nocturnal animal

Eyes too big, mouth too wide

Soaking in all the shadows of my mind

Your love is a nocturnal animal

Hunting, harrowed, dark as pitch

A sinful treasure that you know I miss;

But that's the problem I have with it:

It only comes out at night.

[angelus-a13]

nocturnal animals

silence breaks the trail of her wings, I'm in awe a moon's shadow, the moon's sweetheart gliding floating over moor and field her heart hollow face meets me in the trees petal soft, razor sharp feather and talons marking the end for the vole on a clear ink black night

[makgilbert]

escapril day 5 - spiral

[flugsvamp88]

spiral

(5/4/24)

nothing here to see, blood on my teeth spitting out that foul taste into the sink it’s still dark whilst i try figuring out the handful of pastel powdered pills and whilst that song plays into the dawn i thought it would have lasted forever

c.m

♫

[barelyevenwriting]

Day 5 Here’s What I Remember

Here’s what I remember

After all the things you left me:

    Memories branded into softened clay.

    There is a certain cadence to silence,

Timing steps with exhales

And curling arms into elbows

And too gentle ribs.

    There is an art to the madness,

Words bursting through windows and walls,

Hands that grip too tight,

Leaving marks for too long.

    Your steps are always leaving,

Dragging sadness and nausea away

Back out into halls that I swore

I would never again visit.

    There is a pattern to the lonely,

To the pulling of strings and hairs

And pushing down in imagined misbehavior.

    These are lessons I know,

Step forward then backward,

Always to the side,

Be heard but not listened to.

    There is a madness to words

Flowing in and out of conversation,

Lessons taught in concrete silences.

    There is more of the lesser parts of me,

That I wish I’d never learnt to understand,

To recognize among the chaos.

    You always leaving

And me coming back into silences.

    There was a beauty to pain,

That never lasted beyond the first lesson

Before it dragged us back into the light

Where glass and nails made forgiveness

Their only weapon.

[clinksandgroans]

spiral (sestina)

On the beach the shells are spirals.

Calcium carbonate shell,

a remnant, a memory

of a living creature in its home,

now not anything, just an ornament

Picked up and taken from the beach

to my home, where I dust off sand from the beach.

Framed by dried kelp, the shell, part of a larger spiral

is photographed, part of an ornament-

-al display. Removed from context, the shell

is alien, far from the strange deep ocean, far from home,

It isn’t mine, the memory

it evokes, and yet memory 

still resurfaces, of the ocean in conchs at the beach,

of the drive back, hair full of salt as I returned home,

as kids we drew spirals

in the sand, and heard the crackle and crunch of bits of shell

beneath our feet. All that remains serves as an ornament,

placed on the shelves, my goodness just an ornament,

is this all that is left of memory?

Collecting shell after shell,

so much time spent at the beach,

All neatly placed into a sculpted spiral.

It fails to distract me from this empty home.

Recalls the coastline, a home away from home,

itself eroding, the houses on the cliffs ornaments

dangling on a precipice. I can’t help but spiral

as I recall memory,

and the impossibility of return, the feel of the beach,

the fragility of the shell,

how it is worn down, the shell

lives on, far past its purpose as a home

for a life it once contained, strewn on the beach,

empty and hollow, an ornament 

atop the dunes. Does the shell feel longing? Does it recall a memory?

The porcelain shell, embedded in the spiral,

does not answer. I call the sculpture Study of a Beach By Way of A Shell,

and place it next to every other spiral I’ve made out of things I brought home.

Each one serves not just as an ornament, but as an attempt (which fails) to return to memory.

[threateningtospill]

nocturnal animal

eyes glowing in the dark they see the world diurnals don’t.

when the quiet of the night settles in,

their community rises up.

crouched in their secret societies,

they share the hottest gossip, conspire against the common enemy and laugh at the mere attempts of inspection that the humans conduct.

they hide their wit within their innocent daylight selves- sleeping in a burrow, cave or whatever they consider their safest nest

and turn the game around at night after attaining their needed rest

it truly feels like a world of theirs, their survival skills unsung

Perhaps they are the only ones living the way one must,

active in the moonlight while lazily basking under the sun.

[circadeacademia]

Prompt: Purr (Escapril Day 13)

when i was 5, i wanted to be an astronaut

i thought i could do anything once i touch the sky.

when i was 10, i thought of being a doctor

i felt that'd be nice for my family's pride.

when i was 15, i said screw it, i'll be a musician

i’ll be famous if i can do it right!

when i was 20, i was nothing but a poet

scribbling my heart out with an empty hand

now at 25, still a poet, my hands are still bare

but nowadays i call myself a long-term wannabe cat.

a cat is all I ever needed to be —

could've ruled the world with a wave of my paws

pride? that would've come in default

and i could've been web's most famous feline!

the world is a cat playing with it's ball

i’ll call it karma when it purrs.

sometimes i think my poems are like cats

driven by mood, ignorant when desired

at times, my poems hiss & growl

clenching apex thoughts in their tiny body —

sometimes they snuggle, rub and cuddle

brushing against my head and hand.

when i was 5 or 10 or 15, as i was 20 and 25,

i wish i could see the world in a dozen pounds

how the leaves fall and how the night sounds

the world is a cat's wonder and we just be living in it.

i don't want medic, no space, no music

i just want soft fur and a tail and whiskers

i wanna be small and i wanna be sharp

i don't wanna do human, i’m a wannabe cat.

— circadeacademia

[oceansabove]

escapril day 5: spiral

hey, sorry i missed ur bar crawl. was spiraling. it was a really bad day and the kind of day that i think it would be a bad idea to go to a bar crawl like even if i didn’t drink i would feel very small and paranoid and tempted to drink and dude i would ruin everything drinking in that state of mind. trust me!! wayy too many tears for ur 21st. so really this is for you. bc i care. i’ll spiral alone. and hey let’s try again when i feel better, ok?

[theyovngveins]

escapril day 5

[cjoatprehn]

Happy Escapril! I hope everyone’s having a good day so far. I’m a bit late…as I took a break yesterday. I’m dropping my 4th poem this month with @adventurerswritingguild 5th Escapril prompt combined with the 5th Shy Prompt from their lists! Day 5 is “spiral” with “friendship bracelet.” This poem was rather emotional for me thanks to a friend of mine. We connected with a heart to heart via Vincent van Gogh’s work. This one is shorter as a tribute. I’m happy to have written it though.

Songs Playing:

Here’s the poem titled,

Stars Align in the Spiral

[#escapril Spoken Poetry] “Stars Align in the Spiral” by CJOAT for AWG’s Escapril

I hope y’all enjoy. ^^

[poeticfawnbug]

first 5 days of escapril 2024 <33

(poeticfawnbug on insta)

[wheatfieldspoet]

little one / golden spiral

you sleep in a spiral: perfect, a golden shape, fibonaccian— if that’s even a word, but by now you know i love to make up words and names and songs to praise you— you, the only one of your kind; the best of your mother and father; your eyes as sweet as boba; i love to come home to you and your kisses which explode with years of fondness that only builds all the more when i am away for longer than twenty minutes— then suddenly turn gentle, nuzzle your nose into my palm, caressing the curve in a ratio divine, as i hold your ears in my hands up like a crown, my princess— oh, you who are so dear to me, only a black sheep in name, little one, this home is yours, too, so curl into my side of the bed, any shape we make is golden, cuddled into a spiral, perfectly fit in my heart.

escapril day 5: spiral

@skylerwitherspoon day 5: Write a poem about something you love. Once you're done, keep writing. Make it twice as long. Find out what you say about it when you push yourself further.

[llamentforicarus]

april 5th / escapril 2024, day 5: spiral (although it is not about a spiral, really, it's more about how i, and others, have thought and talked about how life feels like a spiral to us, and not a line).

[flugsvamp88]

nocturnal animal

(5/4/23)

i am the rotting corpse that was thrown into the lake whatever elder god chose to keep me here has visited me ever since that day keeping my bleaching bones rising to the surface a glimpse of that impurity of religion the putrid air that fills the swamp

c.m